Alexander Norman did not speak again of marriage to Frances, but he visited the Ark at Lambeth every week. He took Frances out on the river, he bought her a pony and took her riding in the lanes away from Lambeth and out into the country. Frances came back from these expeditions unusually quiet and thoughtful but she never said more to Hester than that her uncle had been very kind and they had talked about everything under the sun, but nothing that she could remember. Hester felt torn. On one hand she felt she should warn Frances against deepening her relationship with her uncle, which could only bring him pain and disappointment; but on the other hand she did not want to prevent her daughter from enjoying a trusting, loving relationship with a good man old enough to be her father.

It must be Alexander who was principally at risk from heartbreak. Frances enjoyed his company, and learned much from him – from horsemanship to politics. Hester trusted Alexander to spend every day with her without one word of courtship, but she wondered how much pleasure he took when Frances looked up at him and said trustingly: ‘You’ll know about King Henry, won’t you, Uncle Norman? You were a boy when he was on the throne, weren’t you?’

He gave Hester a wry smile over his niece’s brown head. ‘That would be true if I was a hundred years old now. Do you know nothing of history, Frances?’

She made a face. ‘Not much. So how old are you, Uncle?’

Hester thought he had to brace himself to answer.

‘I am fifty-four,’ he said honestly. ‘And I have seen three monarchs reign; but never times like these.’

Frances looked at him consideringly, her head on one side. ‘Well you don’t look very old,’ she said bluntly. ‘I never think of you as that old.’

‘I am that old,’ he said.

Hester thought that the assertion must be costing him dear.

‘I am old enough to be your father.’

Frances’s surprised ripple of laughter made him smile. ‘I think of you as my friend!’ she exclaimed.

‘Well, I was your grandfather’s friend before you were born. I bounced you on my knee when you were a dribbling little baby.’

She nodded. ‘I don’t see that that makes any difference at all,’ she said, and Hester wondered, but did not ask: ‘Difference to what?’