“Oh-I see. Would you like some tea? Or do you prefer cocoa? And oatcakes, or shortbread?”

“Tea, if you please, and the shortbread looks excellent,” Hester accepted, taking a seat opposite.

The woman poured tea and passed it to Hester, then proffered the plate with the shortbread. “Mother-in-law has hers upstairs,” she went on. “And of course all the men have gone to work, and Eilish is not up yet. She never is at this hour.”

“Is she… poorly?” As soon as Hester spoke she knew she should not have. If a member of the household chose not to rise until nearly lunchtime, it was not her business to inquire the reason.

“Good gracious no! Oh dear, I did not introduce myself. How remiss of me. I am Deirdra Farraline-Alastair’s wife.” She looked inquiringly at Hester to see if her explanation meant anything, and saw from her face that she already knew who he was. “Then there is Oonagh,” she continued. “Mrs. Mclvor, who wrote to you, and then Kenneth, and Eilish-who is Mrs. Fyffe, although I never think of her like that, I don’t know why-and lastly Griselda, who now lives in London.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Hester sipped her tea and bit into the shortbread. It tasted even better than it looked, rich and crumbly, melting on the tongue.

“Don’t worry about Eilish,” Deirdra went on conversationally. “She never gets up at a decent hour, but she’s perfectly well. One has only to look at her to see that. A charming creature, and the loveliest woman in Edinburgh, I shouldn’t wonder-but also the laziest. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m very fond of her,” she added quickly. “But not to deny her faults.”

Hester smiled. “If we cared only for perfection, we should be very lonely.”

“I quite agree. Have you been to Edinburgh before?”

“No. No, I have never even been to Scotland.”

“Ah! Have you always lived in London?”

“No, I spent some time in the Crimea.”

“Good gracious!” Deirdra’s eyebrows shot up.