“I could walk if necessary. It’s only two miles.”

“Through snowdrifts? Dear me, it must be urgent.”

“It’s probably a letter to that Darcy person,” Fig commented. “Am I right?”

“Not at all,” I said. “If I can’t have the car I’d better start walking.”

“Dashed slippery out there. Who is going out walking?” Binky asked, appearing in the doorway.

“I am,” I said. “I have to go to the village and I’ve no other way of getting there.”

“I’m going in myself later,” Binky said. “If you don’t mind sticking around a bit, you can ride in with me.”

Fig glared at him as if he had let the side down by actually wanting to help me, but it was his car, after all.

“Thank you, Binky.” I beamed at him. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

I went upstairs and worked at composing my telegram. Would it make me seem too eager and pushy? I wondered. But then other girls in more southerly climes would have had a couple of days’ head start on me, and Christmas was rapidly approaching. I had to take the risk. I scribbled, crossed out, scribbled again and ended up with:

COPY OF THE LADY JUST REACHED ME. HOPE I’M NOT TOO LATE TO APPLY FOR POSITION. SENDING MY PARTICULARS BY POST. GEORGIANA RANNOCH.

Of course anyone who sends telegrams on a regular basis would know that this amount of verbiage would cost me a fortune. I blanched when Mrs. McDonald at the post office-cum-general store told me the amount, but Binky was hovering and my pride would not let me take it back for rewriting. Besides, I didn’t actually know what I could have left out. So I handed over the money, hoping that it would result in a paid position shortly. I realized there had been no mention of money in the advertisement. Perhaps the only recompense was to be the joys of a big house party. Ah, well, no matter. Anything would be better than a house full of Fig’s relatives.

I waited all that day and all the next, sinking further and further into gloom. I was too late. Some other young woman of impeccable background would be enjoying the delights of that big house party while I ate baked beans on toast and dodged Foggy’s grabbing hands. Then the next morning a miracle happened. Hamilton appeared with the post while we were at breakfast.

Fig took it. “Oh, something for you, Georgiana,” she said. “Who do you know in Devon?”

I snatched the letter and went out of the room to read it. “It will be a rejection,” I kept muttering as I opened the envelope. Instead I read:

My dear Lady Georgiana:

I was overwhelmed to receive your telegram. I had no idea that someone of your rank and status would ever consider gracing our small house party in the Devon countryside. We would be more than honored for you to join us. As mentioned in my advertisement, your duties would only be those of a young hostess, making sure that the younger guests have a good time. Could you be here by the twentieth and stay until after the New Year?