“There're dozens of footmen waiting outside to greet us, Em. They look like soldiers on parade with all that green and gold frogging,” Amelia commented in awe.

“Do I have to speak to them?” Serena sounded anxious, as the horses dropped to a sedate walk.

“No, darling; you merely nod and smile at servants. Never offer your hand, curtsy or say thank you. It is not done, you know.”

“Not say thank you, Mama? That's so impolite. Emily has always told us we have to treat our staff with respect.”

“That was all very well, Serena, at Glebe House. But here, at Westerham, things are done differently. You do not want the staff to consider you ignorant, do you?” Serena shook her head, all her pleasure squashed by her mother's words. She shrunk up against Emily's side and pushed her cold hand into her sister's. Emily squeezed it and tried to smile. It was not a very convincing effort.

The coach shuddered to a halt and there was instant activity. Two footmen jumped forward, one opened the door whilst the other pulled the steps into position. The three girls sat immobile, but Lady Althea surged forward. Regally she held out her hand and a footman took it and guided her to the ground. He bowed again, she nodded. Without waiting to see if her daughters followed she walked forward, nodding from time to time, her head high, the ostrich plumes on her bonnet bobbing as she went.

Emily realized they had to move. “Come along, girls, we're getting left behind.” She stood up and, still clasping Serena's hand stepped out, ignoring the bowing footman. She waited, back straight, for Amelia to jump down after her, and set off, not wishing her mother to vanish and leave them alone, surrounded by a sea of unfriendly, supercilious servants.

Millie had taken her other hand and now she was obliged to negotiate a flight of intimidating marble steps, flanked by Doric pillars, with no hand available to hold up her skirts. She attempted to extract one hand from Millie's but her sisters fingers tightened.