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his door. He descried a candlestick in the gloom, with a tinder-box laid conveniently alongside, and struck a light. His suit had been brushed, sponged and laid ready. A clean shirt had been fetched from his bag. On a note pinned to the sleeve Charlotte had written, in that elegant script favoured by Dorcas and herself, ‘Dearest Willie I am so happy you have come to see us , and Toby likes you very much … ’
    ‘Damn his eyes!’ William commented, but had to smile.
    ‘ … We dine at four o’clock , so the girl will bring you hot water at a half after three . Pray join us for a glass of sherry , sir , in the parlour! Y’ loving sister Lottie.’
    He flicked open the silver pair-case of his watch and peered at its ivory dial. Five o’clock. For a moment he was dumbfounded to think he had overslept. Then he smiled and shook his head. In the Longe household time would not be held of much account. An hour or so mattered little, and they could have called him if they were ready and waiting. Now the insistent mewing caught his attention. He threw aside the bedcovers and opened his door. Outside stood a copper can of lukewarm water and his top-boots newly polished. And inside one boot, vainly trying to extricate itself, one brave black kitten. He shook it carefully out and watched it negotiate the stairs. Then made a rapid toilet in his fireless room, and joined the company in the parlour.
    He was relieved to find his presence obviously beneficial. An attempt had been made to tidy the house. Instead of slipping out to a tavern with his boon companions, Toby had chosen to preside at his dinner-table and honour his brother-in-law. And though the meal was late, even by London reckoning, the food was good and plentiful. Both Charlotte and Toby greeted William effusively. The local bakehouse had furnished a veritable banquet, and Charlotte and her cook had also contributed to the feast. There was a jug of home-made pea soup, a dish of soused herrings, a rump of boiled beef with dumplings under it, a roast fowl, a raised pigeon pie, a currant tart and a blancmange, and two sorts of over-ripe cheese, with almonds, raisins and apples to follow. Toby had brought in several bottles of claret, a bottle of port and a bottle of rum, plus the ingredients for a hot punch which he planned to mix in William’s wash-basin.
    ‘Had it been summer,’ said Charlotte wistfully, ‘we should have took you to Sadler’s Wells, where there is entertainment from afternoon to night. Else sailed down the river and supped at Vauxhall.’
    ‘But as it is not summer,’ said Toby, pouring sherry into three large tumblers, none of which matched, ‘we shall sit by the fire and talk. Besides, there is a fog outside as thick as Lottie’s soup. We are not far from the river, and the Fleet runs just to the east of us. So we suffer at this time of year from mists — and from miasmas.’
    ‘Why, Lottie, you must have worked all the while I slept,’ said William tenderly, admiring the preparations as he sipped his sherry. ‘I would not for the world you had so tired yourself. But for the soup especially, I thank you.’
    She made a pretty fluttered gesture of the hands.
    ‘I hope I have got the receipt aright. But Betty used to make it for us, near Christmastime, when we were children. And I watched her while I conjugated my Latin verbs. Indeed, I marked the ingredients by means of the conjugations!’
    ‘It is a clever head,’ said Toby fondly, ‘and do not fear, Brother Will, that I shall let it rust for lack of use, nor spend its powers upon the paltry tasks of housekeeping and shirt-sewing!’ William could see good evidence of this, and smiled polite agreement, ‘No, no. I respect intellect in a woman. So let us drink to the three most important people on this august occasion.’ He raised his tumbler. ‘First to Brother William who has come to make all well between the two families,’ and his tawny eyes gleamed gold, to let William know that