“One son. James. He was a career military man. Officer in the Grenadier Guards. And he had one son as well. My grandson, Justin. He wanted the boy to enlist at the beginning of the war when he turned eighteen, but the boy refused. He said he thought wars were wrong and solved nothing. His father was furious with him. There was a terrible shouting match and the boy walked out. We haven’t heard a thing from him since. But we were told that he did do his duty when he was called up, and was sent off to France. However, we have no idea what happened to him. His body could not be found after a particularly fierce offensive, so either he was blown to pieces or he chose that moment to desert. We can only pray it was the former.”

“You’d rather your grandson was blown to pieces than escaped?”

“If it meant dishonour, yes. If he deserted and is recaptured, it would mean the firing squad. So yes, I pray he was killed doing his duty.”

“And your son?” Emily asked.

Lady Charlton stared into the fire. “My son died in the first year on the Somme, leading a charge over the top. He was buried with full military honours.”

She continued to stare into the fire, her face like stone, but her back straight and proud. Then she looked across to Emily. “You must come and take sherry with me every evening you are here. I will welcome the company. Mrs Trelawney has no conversation except for complaints. If I hear about her rheumatics one more time, I feel I shall scream.”

Emily laughed. “I would be delighted to take sherry with you, but I feel a little awkward about it, since my companions are not invited. I wouldn’t like them to think that I am getting special treatment.”

“Do you not believe they would feel ill at ease in a room like this, speaking with someone like me?” Lady Charlton asked. There was a glint of humour in her eyes.

“I suspect you are right, Lady Charlton,” Emily agreed.

“Then put it to them that they are welcome to join you if they’d like to. I will wager they will refuse.”

The old lady proved to be right.

“Not me, thanks,” Alice said, shaking her head violently when Emily extended the offer. “You wouldn’t catch me sitting with that old tartar.”

“Nor me,” Daisy added. “I’d be terrified I’d spill something or say the wrong thing.”

“Don’t worry about us, ducks,” Alice went on, seeing Emily’s embarrassment. “Daisy and me will take ourselves off to the pub and have a nice chat with that Mrs Lacey. You’re welcome to your sherry with the grand lady in the grand room and having to be so frightfully posh.” She put on a fake aristocratic accent.

And so Emily sat with Lady Charlton after their supper the next evening. She learned that Lady Charlton had travelled with her husband for the first twenty years of their marriage, living in Switzerland and as far away as Egypt, India and Mesopotamia, until he inherited the title and house from a distant cousin and had come to be lord of the manor here.

“Sometimes I have cursed that cousin for dying,” she confessed. “Until then, we had an exciting life. We thought we couldn’t have children, but then James was born to us quite late in life. My husband sent him to boarding school in England at a very young age, insisting it was the right thing to do for boys of our class, but I was really sad that he never saw his parents. So in a way I was glad when we were compelled to come home.”

“I long to travel,” Emily said. “I am so excited about the journey out to Australia.”

“I never had a chance to visit Australia,” Lady Charlton said. “I should like to have done so. Now I only visit places when I read.” She looked up suddenly. “Do you enjoy books?”

“I do, very much,” Emily said.

“Then let me show you our library.” Lady Charlton got to her feet. “Come with me.”

She led Emily along the long hallway through a door at the far end. Emily gasped. The walls were lined with leather-bound volumes. Dust motes danced in the slanting rays of the setting sun. Around the floor were display tables.

“My husband was a great collector,” Lady Charlton said. “He collected everything from Egyptian artefacts to butterflies.” She walked over to one of the tables and ran her hand lovingly over the glass.

“If you would like something to read while you are in residence here, feel free to borrow a book from my library.”

“Oh no, I don’t think I would want to take one of these beautiful books down to the cottage,” Emily said, embarrassed at the thought of coming into this lovely room in her muddy uniform. “And I’ve discovered some books for me to read.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I found an old trunk with books in it.”

“Oh. An old trunk. Of course.” She nodded as if this made sense. “I’d forgotten.”

“I plan to teach Daisy and Alice to read. They won’t get anywhere in life if they can’t.”

“You look out for each other. I like that,” Lady Charlton said. “I have a feeling that we women will need to support each other in the years to come. We will have no menfolk to take care of us.”

Emily returned to the cottage, armed with candles and a box of matches, to find no sign of the other two. She sat on her bed in the fading light and wrote to Robbie in pencil. It was easier than trying to juggle pen and ink. She told him all about the house, about Lady Charlton and the library and the cottage. We were told it was cursed, and it does have an uneasy feeling to it, but we’re only here for a few days and none of us has turned into a frog yet. She tried to make every sentence funny and light so that he’d smile as he sat on his bunk near the enemy lines.