‘Whatever lines may have blurred between us abroad,’ she said in an icy tone, ‘I’m still your employer. I’ll thank you to remember that and keep your impertinent remarks to yourself.’

James stared at her for such a long moment that Beatrice felt a prickle of shame creep over her skin. She was well aware that this was a poor way of repaying the service he had done her last night, one for which she had not uttered so much as a word of thanks. To say nothing of how he had helped her with the garden. And even been a friend in her lonely childhood and awkward adulthood. So many debts that she could not repay.

‘As always, Lady Beatrice, you make your feelings perfectly clear. I am sorry to be such a bother to you.’ James rose to his feet, tucked his paper under his arm and walked towards the door, where he paused. ‘You ought to know, however, that it is no use being so prickly with me, since nothing you say will convince me that we are not extremely good friends.’

Beatrice was glad to hear him say so. He was departing for India later that day and she knew she could not leave things this way.

‘Wait,’ she said quietly when he was almost at the door.

He paused and turned back.

‘I want to thank you. For looking after the trees. And me. Whilst we were away.’

‘I enjoyed every moment.’

‘So did I,’ she admitted. ‘You are one of the finest men I have known. And I will always be grateful. For your many kindnesses.’

James looked at her, surprised. She had never spoken to him in such a way before, afraid that acknowledging she had needed his help might make her seem weak in some way. Yet in this moment she knew it was the right thing to do – the words made her feel strong rather than weak, and she was glad she had not left such important things unsaid.

James offered her a bow. ‘The honour has been all mine,’ he said. ‘I hope you win that wish.’

‘You said once you thought I deserved a wish more than anyone you knew,’ Beatrice said.

‘I remember.’

‘What did you mean by that?’

It was a question that had niggled away at her ever since, like a worm in a piece of rotting wood. She worried that James pitied her, and the idea was curiously unbearable.

‘I suppose what I meant is that some people are born out of place in the world. I ought to know, as I’m one of them myself. If you and I had lived in a different place – or perhaps a different time – then perhaps the world would have suited us a little better. It’s a hard thing, and unfair.’ He shrugged slightly. ‘It only seemed to me that a wish might go some way towards rectifying that.’