Unfortunately, as soon as they went into the ivy-covered mansion, Albert erupted in the same hostility he had shown before. Grimly Christopher dragged him to the parlor, where his mother and Audrey were having tea.

Albert barked at the women. He barked at a terrified housemaid. He barked at a fly on the wall. He barked at the teapot.

“Quiet,” Christopher said through gritted teeth, pulling the crazed canine to the settee. He tied one end of the leash to a leg of the settee. “Sit, Albert. Down.”

Warily the dog settled on the floor and growled in his throat.

Audrey pasted a false smile on her face and inquired in a parody of teatime manners, “Shall I pour?”

“Thank you,” Christopher said in a dry tone, and went to join them at the tea table.

His mother’s face pleated, accordionlike, and her voice emerged in a strained tone. “It’s leaving mud on the carpet. Must you inflict that creature on us, Christopher?”

“Yes, I must. He has to become accustomed to staying in the house.”

“I won’t become accustomed to it,” his mother retorted. “I understand that the dog assisted you during the war. But surely you have no need of it now.”

“Sugar? Milk?” Audrey asked, her soft brown eyes now unsmiling as she gazed from Christopher to his mother.

“Only sugar.” Christopher watched as she stirred a lump of sugar into tea with a little spoon. He took the cup and concentrated on the steaming liquid, while he struggled with a rush of untoward rage. This, too, was a new problem, these surges of feeling that were entirely out of proportion to the circumstances.

When Christopher had calmed himself sufficiently to speak, he said, “Albert did more than assist me. When I spent days at a time in a muddy trench, he kept watch over me so that I could sleep without fear of being taken by surprise. He took messages up and down the lines, so that we didn’t make mistakes in carrying out orders. He alerted us when he sensed the enemy approaching, long before our eyes or ears could have detected anyone.” Christopher paused as he glanced into his mother’s taut, unhappy face. “I owe him my life, and my loyalty. And unsightly and ill mannered though he is, I happen to love him.” He slitted a glance at Albert.

Albert’s tail thumped the floor enthusiastically.

Audrey looked dubious. His mother looked angry.

Christopher drank his tea in the ensuing silence. It tore at his heart to see the changes in both women. They were both thin and pale. His mother’s hair had gone white. No doubt John’s prolonged illness had taken a toll on them before his death, and nearly a year of mourning had finished the job.

Not for the first time, Christopher thought it a shame that the rules of mourning imposed such solitude on people, when it probably would have benefited them to have company and pleasant distractions.

Setting down her half-finished cup of tea, his mother pushed back from the table. Christopher rose to help her with the chair.

“I can’t enjoy my tea with that beast staring at me,” she said. “At any moment, it could leap forward and rip my throat out.”

“His leash is tied to the furniture, Mother,” Audrey pointed out.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s a savage creature, and I detest it.” She swept out of the room, her head high with indignation.

Freed of the necessity for good manners, Audrey rested an elbow on the table and leaned her hand on her chin. “Your uncle and aunt have invited her to stay with them in Hertfordshire,” she said. “I’ve encouraged her to accept their offer. She needs a change of view.”

“The house is too dark,” Christopher said. “Why are all the shutters closed and the curtains drawn?”

“The light hurts her eyes.”

“The devil it does.” Christopher stared at her with a slight frown. “She should go,” he said. “She’s been holed up in this morgue for far too long. And so have you.”

Audrey sighed. “It’s almost been a year. Soon I’ll be out of full mourning and I can go into half-mourning.”

“What is half-mourning, exactly?” Christopher asked, having only a vague notion of such female-oriented rituals.

“It means I can stop wearing veils” Audrey said without enthusiasm. “I can wear gray and lavender dresses, and ornaments without shine. And I may attend a few limited social events, as long as I don’t actually appear to be enjoying myself.”

Christopher snorted derisively. “Who invents these rules?”

“I don’t know. But heaven help us, we must follow them or face the wrath of society.” Audrey paused. “Your mother says she won’t go into half-mourning. She intends to wear black for the rest of her life.”

Christopher nodded, unsurprised. His mother’s devotion had only been strengthened by death. “It’s clear that every time she looks at me,” he said, “she thinks I should have been the son she lost.”

Audrey opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. “It was hardly your fault that you came back alive,” she said eventually. “I’m glad you’re here. And I believe that somewhere in her heart, your mother is glad as well. But she’s become slightly unbalanced during the past year. I don’t think she’s always entirely aware of what she says or does. I believe some time away from Hampshire will do her good.” She paused. “I’m going to leave, too, Christopher. I want to see my family in London. And it wouldn’t be appropriate for the two of us to stay here unchaperoned.”