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more samples. Would you like me to send for some?’

      ‘No, I am afraid there is no time,’ Margaret said, deciding not to tell the woman that the gown was intended for her wedding; she was not sure if the dressmaker was capable of anything elaborate. If her mother, who was a first-class seamstress, had been alive, she would have had a wedding-dress the envy of the world. She sighed. If her mother had been alive, she would not have been in Ely choosing a wedding-gown in the first place. ‘I need something simple.’ She picked up a swatch of pale lilac taffeta. ‘This, I think.’

      ‘Margaret, it’s too plain!’ Kate exclaimed.

      ‘It can be trimmed with satin ribbon bows and lace in the neck and sleeves. I am in mourning, after all, and I don’t want anything too bright.’

      Roland returned at that point to fetch them and Kate turned to appeal to him. ‘Look at this,’ she said, holding the swatch out to him. ‘Margaret wants to wear this.’

      ‘She may have whatever she chooses,’ he said, barely glancing at the material. ‘I am sure whatever she wears will look very well.’

      There was no more argument and, having been promised that the gown would be ready in time, they joined Charles for nuncheon at the White Hart.

      Kate chatted happily to the men and no one seemed to notice that Margaret was very quiet. She was thinking of the last time she had been there. Was it only two days before? So much had happened since then and her life had been turned round in a way she could never have foreseen. Was it for the good? Or had she put her head in a snare of her own making? If she had been able to see into the future, would she have ever left London? It was a question she could not answer.

      Kate was laughing and talking about her own wedding, fixed for early spring. ‘I can hardly wait,’ she said, looking at Charles. ‘Can you?’

      He reached across and put his hand on hers. ‘No, and I see no reason why we should. Shall we bring it forward? Shall we have a double wedding?’

      ‘Could we?’ Kate’s eyes were bright. ‘What do you think, Roland? After all, I am in mourning for Papa.’

      ‘Your father approved the match,’ Charles said. ‘He would not have objected.’ He turned to Roland with a boyish grin. ‘What do you say?’

      ‘I don’t see why not.’ Roland lifted an enquiring eyebrow in Margaret’s direction. ‘Would you like that?’

      ‘I think I should like it very much,’ she said, then to Kate, ‘But are you sure? Were you not thinking of a grand occasion with a great many friends and a big banquet?’

      ‘If you can go without that, then so can we. My gown is ready and has been hanging in my closet for weeks. It is red taffeta, embroidered with pearls and scarlet ribbons.’ She jumped up excitedly. ‘Oh, let’s go back and break the news to Grandmama.’

      Five minutes later, they were once again tucked up under the sheepskins on the sled and on their way back. Kate’s obvious happiness and the fact that she was known and liked locally would ensure that the dual wedding was a joyful occasion and might divert attention from Margaret herself who, try as she might, could not bring herself to rejoice. She was being thoroughly nonsensical, she told herself; she should not be sad. Many a young girl had gone to her wedding without being in love and it had turned out well in the end. Love was not a prerequisite for a successful marriage, never had been, never would be; what was important was to respect and admire the man you were to marry and know that you would be treated with courtesy and kindness. And it was not difficult to admire him, though she certainly did not understand him. He was riding alongside now, deep in thought, as if he were struggling with some weighty mathematical problem.

      When they arrived back at the Manor, they were told that a package had arrived for Mistress Donnington, which had been put in her room.

      ‘A package?’ Margaret queried. ‘But no one knows I’m here.’

      ‘Someone evidently does,’ Kate said, hurrying upstairs, leaving Margaret to follow more sedately. She was puzzled. No one knew where she was except the people at the Manor and Great-Uncle Henry, and she could not imagine him taking the trouble to wrap anything and send it to her. She entered her chamber to find that Kate had flung off her heavy cloak and draped it across a chair and was standing by the bed gazing down at a rather large box, tied with ribbon.

      ‘Oh, do hurry and open it,’ she said. ‘Is there a message?’

      Margaret suppressed her own curiosity in order to take off her coat and boots and put them tidily away as she always did; servants or no, it was a habit she would find hard to break. Then she carefully untied the ribbon, lifted the lid of the box and pulled aside its cotton lining. ‘Oh!’ Carefully she drew out a magnificent open-skirted gown in a heavy ivory satin. The bodice was square-necked with three-quarter sleeves which ended in a froth of pleated lace. The hem and neckline and the stiffened stomacher were heavily beaded in a rose pattern. ‘Oh, it is exquisite!’

      ‘A wedding-gown,’ Kate whispered in awe, while Margaret delved into the box and drew out a piece of paper, half expecting a note from Roland saying he had decided against the gown she had chosen in Ely. It would explain his cursory glance at the material. But why had he not said anything at the time? And where could he have come by such a lavish creation? She found herself wondering if it had been meant for someone else, but she pushed the thought from her; she did not want to think about that.

      ‘What does it say?’ Kate asked eagerly.

      ‘It is from Great-Uncle Henry,’ Margaret said, stifling her disappointment that it had not come from her groom. ‘He says my mother was to have worn it at her wedding, but there was no wedding, not in Winterford at any rate. I didn’t know that; she never told me. Oh, poor Mama! He says it has been in a trunk in a box-room at Sedge House all these years. He sends it with his felicitations.’

      ‘Oh, how romantical! Try it on, do! Does it have a petticoat?’

      Margaret looked in the box. There was a white silk petticoat and a bonnet of matching slipper-satin, trimmed with ribbon. She slipped out of her clothes and put them all on. They fitted perfectly, as she had known they would. She and her mother had been very alike, both in looks and figure. She stood before the long pier-glass, swaying this way and that, admiring the richness of the fabric and noticing the brightness of her eyes and the colour the cold air had put into her cheeks. Suddenly she felt happy. How could anyone clothed in such a wedding-dress not be happy?

      ‘Oh, let’s go and find Roland and tell him,’ Kate said.

      ‘No!’ Margaret said suddenly. ‘I want it to be a surprise.’

      ‘Oh, what a lovely idea! I won’t say a word, I promise.’

      Margaret took the finery off and hung it carefully in the mahogany wardrobe and dressed again in her simple blue merino; then they went downstairs to find that Roland had put the idea of a double wedding to Lady Pargeter and obtained her agreement. What he would not countenance was that Henry Capitain should be invited to the ceremony.

      ‘But he is my only relative,’ Margaret said, feeling that the least she could do was to allow her great-uncle to see her in the gown. ‘Surely it cannot do any harm?’

      ‘I am surprised you can suggest it,’ he said. ‘You know what he is like.’

      ‘I know he is a little ill-groomed, but I am sure he would dress suitably for such an occasion.’

      ‘And bring his doxy with him, I don’t doubt.’

      ‘You could ask him not to.’

      ‘No,’ Roland said, so firmly that Margaret knew further argument was useless. She said no more, but made up her mind to write a little thank-you note and have it sent to Sedge House.

      She saw little of Roland in the next few days because he was busy directing the digging of a new drain and the building of a flood barrier, but he did return to accompany Charles and the girls skating.

      The

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