“Fancy, me getting a present from royalty,” Mrs. Huggins said. “Just wait till I tell them back home at the Queen’s Head.”

“You’re a good girl, my love,” Granddad said, putting an arm around me. “I wish I’d got a present for you, but I had no idea I’d be seeing you. I hope good things come your way soon. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“Actually, having you close by for Christmas is the best present I could have,” I said, giving him a kiss.

I felt a rosy glow as I came out of the cottage. I saw Miss Prendergast hurrying across the street, even though there was no traffic in sight. She was holding her shapeless hat firmly to her head, although the wind was hardly blowing, and she didn’t notice me until she almost barreled into me.

“Oh, goodness me,” she said. “So sorry. Didn’t see you. I’ve just come from the Misses Ffrench-Finch. Tried to cheer them up but they are completely devastated, poor dears. They relied on Miss Effie for everything. She used to boss them around dreadfully but they are lost without her. One feels so sorry for them.” And her voice cracked. She swallowed hard, willing herself not to give in to sentiment. “I really wish that . . .” she began, then shook her head firmly. “Can’t undo the past, no matter how sad, can one?”

And she went on her way, up the front path to her cottage door. I stared after her. What did she wish? I wondered. That Miss Effie hadn’t died, or that one of the other sisters had died in her stead? I continued on my way back to the hall.

* * *

THE REST OF the day went smoothly enough. The younger set were in good spirits after the pantomime rehearsal and amused themselves playing board games. The Sechrests and Rathbones played bridge, chatting as they did so about this area and their memories of past hunts and regattas and families they both knew. The Rathbones once owned a house nearby for their home leaves but had been forced to give it up a few years ago, when so much money was lost in the great crash of ’29.

“The memsahib still misses her garden, of course,” Colonel Rathbone said. “It’s too damned hot to work in the garden in Calcutta.”

“The gardeners do try hard, bless them,” Mrs. Rathbone said, “but it’s always a losing battle against the heat and then the monsoon comes and flattens everything.”

“Pity it’s not summer or Sandra would love to show you around our garden,” Captain Sechrest said. “Absolutely devoted to her garden, aren’t you, old girl?”