At that moment Lady Hawse-Gorzley came in, pushing back her hair from her face. “Oh, there you are. You girls have met, I see. Splendid.”

“Is there something you’d like me to help you with, Lady Hawse-Gorzley?” I asked.

“We could use more holly and some mistletoe too, if you girls would like to take a basket down to the churchyard. I want the whole place decorated with greenery—festive atmosphere in every room, y’know. Oswald has gone out looking for the Yule log.”

“Yule log?” Bunty laughed. “Aren’t you taking this a bit far?”

“Nonsense. It’s part of the traditions of Christmas. We’ll go out with the guests on Christmas Eve and have one of the horses drag in the Yule log. If only it snows we can put it on a sledge and drink hot toddies and sing carols as we bring it home.”

Bunty shot me a look. “While the happy peasants dance in the snow and tip their forelocks, I suppose.”

“Don’t be facetious, Bunty. I’m counting on you to get into the spirit of the thing. So off you go and bring back as much holly and ivy as you can carry. And you might see if the vicar could spare us some more candles. We’ll need an awful lot, especially to light the ballroom for the costume ball.”

“We do have electric light, Mummy.”

“Yes, dear, but candles are so much more atmospheric, aren’t they? A masked ball by candlelight. Think of it.” And she looked quite wistful.

“Come on, then, Georgie,” Bunty said. “I’ll find some shears and off we go.”

“And could you possibly stop at Dickson’s cottage and tell him I’d like to go through things with him later this morning, if he doesn’t mind?”

Bunty turned to me. “Dickson’s our former butler. He grew so ancient that he had to be put out to pasture, but we dust him off for formal occasions. He’s an old dear, actually. Almost like one of the family.”

I put on my coat, hat, and gloves and we set off down the driveway. We stopped first at the gate cottage, where we were shown into a spotless little room and Bunty gave her message to the former butler. He looked extremely elderly and frail, but was dressed formally with stiff collar and black jacket, as if ready to spring back into action again. When she introduced me he gave a correct little bow.

“What an honor, my lady, that you would choose to grace our little corner of England. And how is the health of their dear majesties?”

“I haven’t seen them since Balmoral but they were well then, thank you.”

He sighed with relief. “One does worry so much about His Majesty’s chest,” he said. “Given the current behavior of the Prince of Wales. Tell me, have you actually met the American woman?”

“Yes, I have,” I said. “Many times.”

“And is she . . .” He paused, searching for the right words.

“As dreadful as they make out?” I smiled at his embarrassed face. “Oh, yes. Quite as dreadful.”