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much better, my lady,” said Mariette gratefully. Twisted at the waist, half on her front, half on her side, her position was awkward but bearable for a short while.
    “Thank you, Jenny, you may go. I shall help Miss Bertrand.”
    Jenny curtsied and departed. Spreading a snowy napkin on the bed, Lady Lilian set on it a covered plate and a fork. She removed the cover to reveal poached chicken breast cut in bite-size pieces, florets of cauliflower, tiny brussels sprouts, and slices of pickled beetroot.
    “Oh! Miss Thorne ordered bread and butter...”
    “And Dr. Barley said you must build up your strength.”
    “Good. I’m hungry as a horse.”
    Her ladyship looked startled. Since she knew Mariette was hungry, presumably the phrase was unacceptable, Mariette guessed despairingly. Lady Lilian was so kind, the last thing she intended was to vex her but she was liable to do so inadvertently every time she opened her mouth.
    However, after a momentary pause, Lady Lilian said a trifle stiffly, “How fortunate that the doctor did not prescribe an invalid regimen of broth and gruel. You lost a good deal of blood, Miss Bertrand, but your thick coat and leather...inexpressibles protected you from serious injury. Dr. Barley said you are prodigious healthy and will soon recover your strength. My cook regarded it as a challenge to create a plateful you can eat with only a fork and without dripping. Hmm, I am not sure the beetroot was a good notion.”
    “I’ll be careful,” Mariette promised, remembering she had on one of Miss Thorne’s nightgowns, much to that lady’s resentment, Lady Lilian’s and her daughter’s being too small. She picked up the fork and set to.
    Ragamuffin watched every forkful travel from plate to mouth.
    Lady Lilian smiled. “I shall see the poor fellow is fed later,” she said.
    The chicken was delicious and Mariette wondered what liquid had been used to poach it. She would have liked to ask for the receipt, but she was afraid of blundering into another faux-pas. Was talk of cookery beneath a well-bred lady? How could she guess?
    She wasn’t even sure what to call her. “My lady” sounded like a servant, but “Lady Lilian” seemed much too familiar. Safest to use “ma’am,” she decided.
    The last scrap of food disappeared and Lady Lilian removed the plate. “Now something to drink,” she said. “Dr. Barley was most particular that liquids are even more important than nourishment in restoring the blood, so I hope you are thirsty.”
    “Yes, ma’am, but I can’t see how the deuce I’m to drink without spilling it all over the place.”
    Lady Lilian winced but said gaily, “Oh, Malcolm came up with a solution to that problem. A nursery trick. He and Emily have been out to the stables to find hollow straws--clean ones, I assure you, and Cook has rinsed them besides. You put one end in the drink and the other in your mouth and simply sip it up. Here, try it.”
    “What a clever idea!” Taking the cup and straw she offered, Mariette sucked up a little of the lemon-flavoured barley water and giggled. “It’s fun!”
    “Nanny used to grow quite irritable when we tried it in the nursery. ‘Disgraceful conduct for young ladies and gentlemen,’ she always told us.” Lady Lilian must have seen Mariette’s dismay for she quickly added, “But ideal for an invalid. I must admit we used to misbehave dreadfully. We blew bubbles in our milk, and my brothers shot bread pellets at each other and made horrible squawking noises when they reached the bottom of their cups.”
    The childhood reminiscence made her seem much more approachable.
    Suddenly very tired, Mariette said hesitantly, “I...You don’t mind if I stay here tonight, ma’am? I don’t think I can quite manage to get home.”
    “Of course you cannot, child! No more laudanum for the present, I think, but let me move your pillows so that you can lie down and sleep for a while. There, is that better?”
    “Oh, yes. I don’t know