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though as it turned out, nobody suffered any ill effects, not even the kitten.’
    Fortunately, nobody seemed to have noticed their hostess’s agitation, so Charlotte returned to her covert observation of the ladies in whom both Lord and Lady Granville had taken an interest. No, nothing to mark them out, she decided. Both ladies were short rather than tall, slightly built rather than sturdy. The elder sister was unmarried, a Miss Armstrong, Charlotte understood , and with her quiet demeanour, her blue eyes modestly lowered and her light brown hair plainly plaited, pleasant-looking rather than pretty, possibly in her late twenties or even into her thirties. She was neatly turned out in a dove grey merino with black mourning ribbons, soberly dressed with an eye to economyas Charlotte’s practised eye revealed to her. Charlotte thought she looked as though she had been ill. The other woman, Mrs Chant, looked somewhat younger, perhaps in her mid-twenties or so, though Charlotte looked at her thoughtfully; those very fair complexions could, she was aware, be deceptive sometimes. Unlike her spinster sister, she was clad in the silks and velvets appropriate to an affluent young matron, her rose pinks and silver lace trimmings admirably suiting her fair, blue-eyed prettiness. There had been time only for a brief introduction before the ceremony but now Charlotte was seized by a sense that the younger sister was in some way familiar. She shook her head; it was quite impossible that they could have met, of that she was convinced.
    The third woman in the group was only too familiar to Charlotte, who had first encountered her some months earlier, and had few fond memories of their meeting. As Miss Melicent Dunwoody, she had once been governess to dear Agnes. Triumphantly married only a matter of months ago, Melicent was now the wife of a retired naval man, Captain Penbury, and to Charlotte’s chagrin they had arrived in Hampshire only a day earlier, on a visit to spend the Christmas season at the manor. Already Melicent, the new Mrs Penbury, had managed to grate upon everyone’s nerves with her constant complaints and the frequency with which her feelings were hurt, so that Charlotte thanked heaven that she was no longer obliged to live in the same house as the damply depressing visitor.
    ‘I declare, Gran,’ she had announced only that morning, ‘I could give you chapter and verse of every ailment Melicent has bravely suffered in the months since her wedding, all of them life- threatening and all…’ she grinned, ‘
all
entailing extraordinarily revolting symptoms. I’ll spare you, never fear, though dear Melicent certainly had no such care for
my
delicate sensibilities.’
    Short and thin, Melicent’s lank dark hair was strained back and caught up into a net, and she drooped now beside the other two women trying to look as if she was participating in their conversation. Charlotte, seized by her usual reluctant and exasperated pity, watched the former governess who, for a wonder, was defeated by the other ladies’ polite indifference as she trailed over towardsLily’s prize visitor. Lord Granville’s shoulders slumped and he abandoned his surreptitious attempts to scrutinize the ladies. He too headed across the room and Lady Granville now directed her disapproving gaze elsewhere, her brows meeting once more as her irrepressible lord attempted to lionize the guest of honour.
    ‘Well now, Miss Nightingale,’ he beamed, attempting to engage her in conversation, apparently undisturbed by the repulsion clearly expressed on her face as he edged towards her. ‘This is a great occasion, is it not? A new little fellow ready to take his place in a good old local family?’ His face softened for a moment and he poked his head forward to peer hopefully from beneath his rampant eyebrows. ‘I must present my own young stripling to you, ma’am, a very promising lad.’ However he failed to discover his own son, though Charlotte bit