‘That’s brilliant,’ said the voice encouragingly, and then, ‘What’s her name?’

‘Lady Harts . . .’ she heard Richard begin, and then, ‘Er, Grace.’

Even in this moment, the embarrassment in his voice amused her. How many times had she told her staff to call her Grace? But the older ones, the ones who remembered her parents’ time at the Hall, just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.

‘Now then, Grace,’ the voice continued, and Grace looked up to see a young man with little round John Lennon glasses and a face to match. ‘If you can sit in the chair for me then I can whizz you along to the maternity unit. We don’t want you having this baby out here, do we?’

He gave her a compassionate smile and Grace nodded her agreement, letting him guide her down from the Land Rover to the waiting wheelchair. He made her feel safe and secure and his soft voice reassured her continually. Just as her bottom hit the seat pad, the next contraction started up. There was almost no build-up now. The pain just appeared like a firebrand in her very soul.

‘Where’s Charles?’ she managed to moan before the contraction took hold.

‘I’m going to get him now, Lady . . . Grace,’ said Richard. ‘We’ll be back before you know it.’

Grace had no memory of getting through the maze of corridors to the labour room, but now she was there, her nightdress was on somehow and her hand was grasping the gas and air mask so tightly that its edge was making imprints in her palm. A midwife – she had given Grace her name but it had not registered – was examining her, a gloved hand emerging from between her legs.

‘It’s a good job you didn’t leave it any longer,’ she said brightly. ‘You’re all ready to go. With the next contraction I’d like you to push.’

‘But I can’t,’ breathed Grace, no energy available to sound her words out. ‘I have to wait for Charles.’

The midwife shook her head. ‘There’ll be no waiting now, pet. This baby’s on its way.’

Well, Grace wasn’t going to be told what to do. She was in control of this process and if she decided that she would wait for Charles to arrive then . . .

But her body had other ideas. The instinct to push was suddenly so strong that nothing could stop it. She thrust the gas and air mask towards her mouth and sucked hard as every muscle in her body bore down. Where was Charles? she thought through the agonising pain. When this was all over, she was going to kill him. It was all his fault that she was here dealing with this all by herself. And if he didn’t get here right now he was going to miss the birth of their second child.