by when Uncle Bertram used to perform conjuring tricks, or balanced a glass of water on his head while he danced for them.
‘Do you remember when Uncle Bertram bought us that Jack Russell puppy, Mama, and it nipped Grandmama’s ankle?’ Kitty said.
Jane smiled. ‘Yes, I do, my dear. But he was very young, barely twenty, and Papa found the little dog a good home with one of his parishioners.’
Charlotte recalled when she had been ten years old and Uncle Bertram had secretly given her an inordinate number of sweetmeats until she was horribly ill and had to be put to bed by Nanny Bull.
Jane sighed. ‘Yes, there were always tears before bedtime, when dear Bertram was here, but your uncle likes children and was always so jolly. It is such a pity that he has no little children of his own. He would make a wonderful papa to some lucky boys and girls.’
She sighed again and to break the mood, Charlotte decided that she and Kitty would perform some duets on the pianoforte, giggling a little and making their mother smile by their devastating imitations of the style and content of some of the young ladies of their acquaintance. ‘Miss Aurelia Casterton has graciously consented to perform an air by George Frideric Handel,’ Kitty announced and Charlotte gave a burlesque performance of Miss Casterton’s rendering of the piece, complete with flamboyant arm movements and exaggerated use of pedals until Jane Grayson was obliged to smile at their fun and high spirits. Then it was Kitty’s turn and she imitated the style of Ann West, who played and sang in a fashion so quiet it was almost inaudible.
‘From The Marriage of Figaro , Cherubino,’ she whispered and launched into ‘Ye who can measure, love’s loss or gain,’ in such an accurate rendering of Miss West’s small refined voice that Jane laughed out loud and immediately ordered them to go to bed.
‘I need a little peace and quiet after such an eventful day,’ she said. ‘And you two drive me to distraction with your jokes and japes. Come now, both of you, give your mama a kiss and get off to bed. It is late.’
Still giggling, they obeyed. They shared a bedroom on the second landing and were so tired themselves that they didn’t even spend time talking, but snuffed the candles promptly as soon as Phoebe had departed.
The next morning revealed a shining countryside, washed by further overnight rain, making leaves and blades of grass sparkle with jewelled raindrops. After a dull start, the weather was once more sunny and Charlotte pulled on some old half boots and set off for a walk with Phoebe in attendance . In single file, they went along a narrow muddy footpath which joined two more substantial tracks leading to the village church of St Paul.
A farmer led a herd of cows up the nearby cart track as they walked along enjoying the fine August weather. The sun was strong, even though the air had an almost autumnal coolness, and the animals’ breath was steamy as they plodded patiently along with the herdsman. Once they’d rounded the corner and were out of sight, it seemed to Charlotte that steam was now issuing from the hedgerow and billowing along on top of it. Lost in her own thoughts, she was startled when, as the lane seemed to sink lower between the hedges, it began to twist and turn and became very slippery. Many of the stones had washed loose and she began to walk more carefully, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked for the well-known landmarks of St Paul’s and the ancient signpost pointing to Felbrook village.
Suddenly, she heard the loud drumming of hoofs very close by and almost at once a huge black horse and rider leapt the hedge to her right and landed in front of her right across the foopath. Both Charlotte and Phoebe were thrown sideways and caught off balance by the suddenness of it all. Charlotte fell towards a bank where spindly twigs and yellowing wild flowers were still hidden among the coarse grass. She got up quickly and