“Thank you, that’s kind of you,” Emily said. “And some candles, please. It was quite alarming having to go to sleep in utter darkness.”

“I assumed Mrs Trelawney would have taken care of such things. I did let her know you were coming. Tell her what you want.”

Emily didn’t like to say that getting anything out of Mrs Trelawney would be like wringing blood from a stone. Instead, she murmured, “Thank you,” and went back to work.

When Lady Charlton had gone, the other two came up to Emily. “Well done,” Alice said. “I heard you telling her a thing or two.”

“Simpson is going to find us more furniture,” Emily said, “and Mrs Trelawney will give us candles.”

“Not without a fight, I expect,” Alice said.

By the end of the day, the front beds were cleared and the rose bushes pruned back. As they stood to eye their accomplishments, Emily glanced up at the house. Lady Charlton was standing in the window and nodded her approval.

Later on, they had just finished a bowl of mutton stew with dumplings when Lady Charlton appeared at the kitchen door. They all rose to their feet.

“Continue with your dinner, please,” Lady Charlton said. She looked at Emily. “I was wondering if this young woman would care to take a glass of sherry with me when she has finished her meal.”

“It’s very kind of you, my lady,” Emily said, feeling horribly awkward because the others had not been asked.

Alice, as usual, sensed this. “Don’t you worry about us, love. We’ll see you back at the cottage later.”

Feeling the others’ eyes upon her, Emily followed Lady Charlton through to the main part of the house, along a draughty hallway and into a large drawing room. A sofa and several Queen Anne chairs were arranged around an enormous granite fireplace in which a fire was burning, even though it was still summertime. A tray with a sherry decanter and two glasses had been put on a low table in front of the fire.

“I know it’s an extravagance to keep a fire burning in summer,” Lady Charlton said, “but the rooms are so vast in this place, and I feel the cold at my age. Do sit down.”

“Thank you.” Emily perched at the edge of one of the chairs.

Lady Charlton handed her a glass. “I’m intrigued. What made you decide to become a land girl?”

“I felt I should do what I can to help the war effort,” Emily said.

“Hardly a normal occupation for one of your class.”

“I wanted to volunteer as a nurse, but they didn’t need any more volunteers. They did need land girls.”

“What did you parents think of this? They surely can’t have approved?”

“They did not.” Emily had to smile. “Quite the opposite. They did everything they could to bring me home again.”

“But you dug in your heels and stood up to them. Well done. One should make one’s own decisions in life.”

“I agree, but my parents do not,” Emily said. “I’m afraid a great rift has come between us.”

“I’m sure they’ll relent when this nonsense is all over and you can return home.”

“I don’t think they will.” Emily pressed her lips together, trying not to show emotion. “They do not approve of the man I’m going to marry.”

“A rascal, is he? Or not of our class?”

“Not at all. He’s a good man. Kind, funny. And his family is quite wealthy. But he’s Australian. He doesn’t believe in the whole class distinction thing. He doesn’t play by our rules. He thinks they are silly.”

“And your parents disagree?”

“Oh yes.” Emily had to smile now. “It’s a pity, but I’m going to marry him, whatever they say.”

“You’ve turned twenty-one?”

“Earlier this summer.” How long ago it seems, she thought. Another lifetime.

“Then I suppose your life is in your own hands, and you are free to succeed or fail on your own terms.”

“I wouldn’t call marrying Flight Lieutenant Kerr failing,” Emily said. “Surely marrying the man one loves is the highest achievement in life?”

“Not all would agree with that. It doesn’t always bring happiness to move too far from where we are planted.”

“So you would not have left your home for a man you loved?”

“I didn’t say that,” Lady Charlton replied. “I am merely spouting conventional wisdom. Not everyone has to live by convention, like your Flight Lieutenant Kerr.”

A log settled on the fire, sending up sparks.

“You live all alone here, my lady?” Emily asked, changing the subject away from her.

“I do.” Lady Charlton sighed. “My husband died ten years ago. He was a good man. A fine man. He threw himself into every activity with enthusiasm. He travelled the world. He was a great collector. And when we inherited this house, he took an active role in the running of the home farm—improving breeding stock, lambing, you name it, and he wanted to be part of it. Well, he was present at a lambing one dreadful spring night. He came home soaked to the skin, caught pneumonia and died. Such a waste.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emily felt obliged to say. “And you had no children?”