They had been walking along a footpath beside the river and now reached a wooden stile which led on to the road. A car was approaching them, moving rather slowly. Violet hopped up onto the stile and waved. Patten the chauffeur was driving the big Daimler down to lunch. He had already transported first of all the housekeeper and two maids to prepare the boat-house and light the fire and then Rogers and two footmen with the lunch, some of it in hayboxes to keep it hot; the housekeeper and the maids had been returned to the house, their duties completed. Now he had Cicely beside him in the front, while behind the glass screen Aline and Minnie and Ida, wearing their tweeds, talked about her marriage prospects, and Olivia, who had put on a brown velvet jacket above her long dark tweed skirt, with a brown fur hat and muff, looked out of the window and wondered whether she would find herself sitting next to Lionel Stephens at lunch.

Aline had asked whether the Hungarian could be considered a serious contender for Cicely’s hand.

‘We’re not thinking of it,’ Ida had answered.

‘Couldn’t we look on him as just a little but sur le tapis?’ Minnie suggested. ‘Just a foot, just a toe? He is so handsome.’

‘Her father’s against her marrying a Continental,’ said Ida. ‘He says things are too unsettled at the moment to risk her marrying anyone except an Englishman.’

‘If there was a war we’d all be on the same side,’ said Minnie comfortably. ‘After all, all the Royal Families are related. They can’t possibly have wars with each other. And the Rakassyis are so wonderfully rich.’

‘An English match would be much more secure.’

‘I suppose so. And all those foreign relations would be rather a bore. Foreign aunts and cousins are usually deadly, much worse than English ones. Besides, we can enjoy a year or two of speculating, can’t we?’

‘What does she think about it, I wonder?’ said Olivia.

Minnie smiled at her.

‘She will enjoy speculating too. She is not like you, with those high ideals which make you the princesse lointaine for so many admirers. Very few of us are like you, dear Olivia, that’s why we cherish you so. Most of us are dreadfully mundane.’

‘Oh.’ Olivia protested; she was genuinely surprised.

Cicely tapped on the glass partition, laughing and pointing to the side of the road. Violet was standing on the stile waving, with Nanny beside her. Patten slowed down but did not stop. Violet saw Cicely laughing, her mother and grandmother waving, Olivia smiling, Aline’s raised hand from the shadow of the back seat.

‘If we start walking up the road Patten will give us a lift on his way back,’ said Nanny.

In the car Olivia was saying, ‘I do hope they found the duck.’

The boat-house was largely Minnie’s creation. Ten years ago she had looked at the simple structure which at that time provided shelter for a couple of punts and an old rowing boat and had said, ‘What we need here is a rustic summerhouse.’