“They seemed to know a great deal about us,” I commented. “I wonder if they keep a dossier of all their friends.”

“They seemed the kind who would be interested in people.”

“I’m surprised that your father talked so much about us all. It is the last thing I would have expected him to do.”

“Oh, he has changed a lot since he married your mother. But I do agree, it would be unlike him to talk a lot about the family. I hope he gets back tomorrow.”

“They’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t.”

David was thoughtful for a moment; then he said: “I hear that the war is going to be over soon.”

“Do you think the French are going to beat the allies?”

“What with Tuscany making peace and Sweden acknowledging the Republic, I hope we are not going to be left fighting on our own. I think it must end soon, and when it does, Claudine, you and I will have that promised honeymoon. Italy! I long to see Herculaneum.” He put his arm about me. “In the meantime, my dearest, you will have to put up with an extended honeymoon, here in Eversleigh.”

“Honeymoons are to start married life with. We are no longer beginners.”

“I love you more than I ever did.”

He held me close to him and it was all I could do to stop myself crying out: “I don’t deserve it.” I felt I should never rid myself of this burden of guilt as long as I lived.

And later, when there should have been perfect intimacy between us, I kept thinking of a gondolier singing Italian love songs, and as we floated down the canal my company was not David but Jonathan.

In the morning, as I passed through the hall, I noticed that the silver punch bowl, which always stood in the centre of the big table, was not there.

David and I went to the dining room.-My mother was already seated.

She said: “Oh hello, my dears. Our guests are not up. They must have been tired out. Travelling can be so exhausting!”

“They didn’t seem exhausted last night,” commented David.

“What’s happened to the punch bowl?” I asked.

“Oh, you noticed too. I expect they’ve taken it to the kitchen to clean it.”

While we were eating one of the servants came in.

“Something awful’s happened, M’am,” she said. “I think we’ve been broken into.”

“What?” cried my mother.

“Cook has noticed there’s things missing from the hall. Silver and things…”

“The punch bowl!” I cried.

We went into the hall. Several of the servants were there.

“It must have been vagrants,” said my mother. “How could they have got in? Who locked up?”

“The doors were all locked last night,” said the butler quickly. “I always see to that myself. And this morning the doors were shut but unbolted. I couldn’t understand it.”

“Extraordinary!” said my mother. “What could have happened? Did anyone hear anything in the night?”

Nobody had.

“We’d better look round quickly and see what has been taken.”

On the floor leading from the hall were one or two rooms including the winter parlour and Dickon’s study. The winter parlour seemed to have been untouched. This was not the case with Dickon’s study. The door of the cupboard had been forced open and papers were scattered on the floor. One of the drawers of his desk had been broken open.

“This is terrible,” said my mother.

At that moment a maid appeared. She said: “Madam, I took hot water up to the red room. There was no answer so I knocked again and when there was still no answer I went in. There was no one there and the bed hasn’t been slept in.”

We were all aghast and hurried up to the red room. The maid was right. The bed was untouched. It was instantly clear that the people whom we had entertained last night were not Dickon’s friends, but had come here expressly to rob us.

My mother was filled with trepidation. She had welcomed them and had entertained them; and all the time she had been harbouring thieves.

We went round the house to try to discover what had been taken. Dickon’s study seemed to have been the main object of their interest. That was what was so alarming, for there was not much of value there. It was true they had taken silver, but why overturn Dickon’s office?

The people calling themselves James and Emma Cardew were clearly no ordinary thieves.

It was no use trying to send someone after them. They would be well away by now, and who could say what direction they had taken?

We were helpless and stupidly gullible to have been so deceived.

“But they seemed so genuine,” my mother kept saying. “They knew so much about us. They must have known Dickon was not home. To think of them prowling about down here while we were all in our beds! It makes your flesh creep. And what were they looking for in Dickon’s study? Did they find it? Oh, I wish he’d come home.”

He returned in the early afternoon.

When he heard what had happened he turned white with anger. He immediately went to his study. Jonathan was with him. In a short time we knew that something very important had been taken. Dickon said little but there was a flush in his face and a glint in his eyes which told me that he was very disturbed.

“What were they like?” demanded Jonathan.

We described them as best we could.

“It didn’t occur to us…” cried my mother. “We didn’t realize that they could be criminals. They knew so much about the family. I naturally thought that they were friends.”

“They had their informants,” said Jonathan. “And they knew that we should be away.”

“They couldn’t have pulled it off otherwise,” added Dickon. “My God, how far has this gone? They knew what was in my study. I’ll have to go back to London at once. We have to follow this up. Lottie, you will have to come with me. It may be that someone will know who they could be.”

“I’ll get ready at once,” said my mother. “Oh, Dickon, I’m sorry, but we have all been taken in.”

“Of course you would be. They would be clever enough and well informed enough to deceive anyone.”

“They took some silver too.”

“Oh, that was to make it seem like an ordinary robbery. It was what was in my study that they came to get. It is better that the servants should think that was the case. We don’t want them to talk.”

My mother nodded.

“I shall want to leave in an hour,” said Dickon.

He with Jonathan and my mother left for London. The servants could talk of nothing for days but the effrontery of the people who had called themselves Cardew.

To us who knew that there was some ulterior motive for the robbery, the incident seemed very sinister. I wondered more than ever about Dickon’s and Jonathan’s affairs. It had been clear to me for a long time that they were not merely bankers; they were engaged in some secret diplomatic work and of course in such times as ours such work must become increasingly important.

They did live dangerously. Both Dickon and Jonathan were men who knew how to take care of themselves, but I guessed that the work they did made them ruthless, and of course, those who worked against them would be equally so.

I hoped Dickon would not run into danger. I trembled to think of what my mother would do if anything happened to him.

And Jonathan? I tried not to think of him; but he did intrude often into my thoughts.

For a few weeks no subject was discussed in the servants’ quarters but the audacious burglary at Eversleigh, and it was talked of with equal interest in the neighbourhood I was sure.

Dickon, back at Eversleigh, had decreed that there should be no mention of important papers having been taken and that the impression should be given that it was only valuable silver which had been stolen.

“I believe there is an old proverb which says that it is too late to shut the stable door after the horse has been stolen,” I said.

“Quite right,” answered my mother. “But I intend that no more horses shall be stolen.”

“Is Dickon still very upset?”

“Yes, indeed he is. I do wish he were not so involved. These people are dangerous, capable of anything. It worries me… but this is Dickon’s life. He always has taken risks, and I suppose he always will. Jonathan is the same. I am so glad you chose David. I married two adventurers.”

“And you were happy.”

“My first husband went to America to fight and died there. I worry a lot about Dickon. But it was worth it. I wouldn’t have him otherwise.”

But in due course the burglary became a nine-days’ wonder and the excitement shifted to Jonathan’s and Millicent’s wedding.

Another wedding was to take place in April—that of the Prince of Wales to the Princess Caroline of Brunswick.

“I thought he was married to Maria Fitzherbert,” I said.

“So he was,” replied David, “but the marriage was not considered legal.”

“Do you remember we saw them once at the theatre? I thought they looked so handsome and so fond of each other.”

“Times change, Claudine.”

“And they are no longer in love.”

“They say he greatly resents having to marry Princess Caroline, and would not if he could avoid it.”

“Poor kings, poor princes.”

“How lucky we are!” said David. “We should always remember that, Claudine. We should never let anything spoil what we have.”

“We must not… ever,” I said fervently.

There were to be celebrations for the royal wedding and my mother suggested that we go to London to join in them.

“We could do our shopping during the visit. We shall both need new gowns for Jonathan’s wedding.”

I said that would be wonderful and we could feel quite safe leaving the babies in the charge of Grace Soper, who was proving herself to be an excellent nurse.

“Fashions have changed so much in the last years,” went on my mother. “Everything seems to be so much simpler. I suppose it is something to do with France, as the fashions have always started there. This new simplicity has grown out of the revolution. I’m glad we’re rid of those hooped petticoats. They were so restricting. I rather like those high-waisted gowns, don’t you?”

I said yes, but did she think Molly Blackett could do them justice?

“Molly’s a good dressmaker. She’ll try. I don’t think she likes the new simplicity though. It makes much less work for her, I suppose, and it is not so easy to hide the little flaws. I thought if we got the material now there would be plenty of time for her to make them up before the wedding. We shall need some lace for fichus and perhaps shawls. The low-cut shoulders can be a little chilly. So you see, we shall have plenty of shopping to do…”

“I’ll look forward to it,” I said.

“We’ll go in good time. The royal wedding is on the eighth. If we arrived on the fifth we could get the shopping done first. I doubt the shops will be open on that day. Shall we try that?”

I said it would be excellent and as Jonathan and Dickon agreed to the dates, the four of us set out in the carriage. David said he would take the opportunity of going over to the Clavering estate—another of Dickon’s properties—as it was some time since he had been and another visit was due.

I always enjoyed London. I felt excitement grip me as I drove through those crowded streets. There were people everywhere bent on their own business, dashing around as though they were in a mighty hurry. I watched them all with pleasure—the hawkers, the ballad singers, the lavender women, the apple women, the watercress sellers—they were all there. I used to listen to their cries and was delighted to discover new ones like that of the lady with her paper of pins who stood on a corner singing in a high cracked voice:

Three rows a penny pins,

Short whites and middlings.

There was the Flying Pieman who ran from Covent Garden to Fleet Street between noon and four o’clock crying:

Who’s for a mutton or a Christmas pie

Buy, buy, buy

A piece for a penny,

while people stopped him for a piece of his meat pies or baked plum pudding.

Won’t you buy my sweet blooming lavender,

Sixteen branches one penny,

sang the lavender woman.

“Fine fritters, hot fine fritters,” cried out the woman who was frying batter on a tripod over a fire set on bricks.

I loved to hear the bell of the muffin man as he wandered through the streets, performing an admirable balancing feat as he carried his basket on his head.

Every time I came to London I tried to discover a new trader and I invariably did.