A shadow crossed Oonagh’s face. “Mother, we are only concerned for your welfare,” she said quickly. “You do sometimes forget to take your medicine…”

“Nonsense!” Mary dismissed it. “I don’t forget. I simply don’t always need it.” She smiled at Hester. “My family fusses,” she explained with humor. “Unfortunately, when you begin to lose your physical strength, people tend to think you have lost your wits as well.”

Oonagh looked over at Hester and her expression was patient and conspiratorial.

“I daresay I shall be quite unnecessary,” Hester said with an answering smile. “But I hope I shall at least be able to make the journey a little easier for you, even if it is only to fetch and carry, and to see that you have all you wish.”

Oonagh relaxed a little, her shoulders easing as though she had been standing unconsciously at attention.

“I hardly need a Florence Nightingale nurse for that.” Mary shook her head. “But I daresay you will be a great deal better company than most. Oonagh says you were in the Crimea. Is that right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Farraline.”

“Well sit down. There is no need to stand there like a maidservant.” She pointed to the chair opposite her and continued talking while Hester obeyed. “So you went out to nurse with the army? Why?”

Hester was too taken aback to think of an immediate reply. It was a question she had not been asked since her elder brother Charles had first demanded of her why she wanted to do such a dangerous and totally unsuitable thing. That, of course, had been before Florence Nightingale’s fame had made it almost respectable. Now, eighteen months into the peace, Florence Nightingale was second only to the Queen herself in the respect and admiration of the country.