The next two weeks before Alexander returned to the front were full of peace and happiness, made all the more poignant by the knowledge that each day was precious and had to be made the most of. To her relief, once her milk came in Rose found she had more than enough to content the babies, who fed every two or three hours and seemed to have voracious appetites. They were very different to how Betsy had been as a newborn; both of them had chunky limbs and large hands and feet and seemed very aware of their surroundings. Alexander walked about like the cat who’d got the cream and a feeling of joy pervaded the house despite the happenings at home and abroad with the war. Alexander had thoroughly approved of her choice of nursery maid and often could be heard joking and laughing with Jinny, and once Betsy was home from school she couldn’t be torn away from her baby brothers.

They had let Betsy name the twins, which had thrilled her. The first was duly called William Alexander, which had brought a tear to his grandfather’s eye, and the second James David. Rose had wondered if Alexander would mind Betsy using the name of her own father, but he had assured her he didn’t and she believed him. He knew that she was his in a way that she had never been Davey’s. They had not discussed this, they didn’t need to. A love such as theirs only came once in a lifetime.

On the day that Alexander left Highfield Hall, Rose insisted on accompanying him to the train station. It was the end of November and the weather was bitterly cold. There had been intermittent snow showers for days and Alexander had tried to persuade her all morning to stay in the warm before eventually admitting defeat. They left Hammond, the valet, sitting in the car outside the station and once Alexander had his ticket they passed through the barrier. Rose was clinging on to Alexander as though she would never let him go and he had his arm tightly round her. He led her to a seat at the far end of the platform, where they sat.

‘You should never have come, you should still be resting.’

‘Nonsense, I’m as strong as a horse.’

‘My mother was in bed a month after me, she’s horrified you were up and about within days.’

She didn’t want to talk about Arabella. She turned her face to his and immediately his lips were on hers. They clung together, willing the moments to stretch into eternity, and when at last he lifted his head, his voice was husky when he murmured, ‘I hate leaving you.’