This was an unexpected comment, since I had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Why?’

My query was clearly as much of a surprise to her as her statement had been to me. ‘Because of the whole drama,’ she replied, as if this must be quite obvious.

‘What drama?’

She gave me a quizzical look, as if I might be teasing and leading her on, but my gaze was as innocent as a newborn child’s. ‘How amazing,’ she said. ‘Did he really never tell you?’

Then I asked and I listened.

Candida knew Damian well, long before that night. She had flirted with him in her frightening way, she had danced with him, even, I suspected as she talked, slept with him and generally befriended him as the season had progressed. And she had managed to get him included in the Gresham house party, without drawing attention to Serena, and-

‘But I don’t understand. Why did you? I thought you fancied him yourself.’ I remembered that other, different Candida rolling her eyes at Queen Charlotte’s Ball and almost shuddered.

She shook her head. ‘That was all finished long before. And by that time he and Serena were in love with each other.’ Again she spoke as if I must surely have had some suspicion of these things at the very least, and it was precious of me to pretend that I did not. ‘That is, I thought they were in love with each other. Serena was in love with him.’

‘I don’t believe it.’ Of course, I didn’t want to believe it and in truth I hadn’t seen much evidence. They’d kissed. But if we were supposed to be in love with everyone we’d ever kissed…

She shrugged as if to say believe what you like, I am telling you the truth. ‘She wanted to marry him, absurd as that sounds, and as you know, she was eighteen at the time and Damian was nineteen and still at university, so they needed her parents’ consent.’

‘Why? When did the law change?’

‘At the beginning of 1970. It was still twenty-one in Sixty-eight.’

‘But the Claremonts would never have given their consent if he’d been the Duke of Gloucester.’

‘Yes, they would. They did. They pushed her into marrying Andrew the following year, and she was still only nineteen.’ Which was true. ‘Anyway, Serena had got it into her head that if they could only get to know Damian they would fall for him and in time give their permission, which obviously I can now see was a hopeless idea.’

‘Worse than hopeless. Insane.’

My intervention was not soothing to her. ‘Yes. Well, as I say, I know that now, but at the time I had convinced myself, or Serena had convinced me, that it might work. It wasn’t that she wanted to plunge into obscurity with him. She was sure that Damian would do incredibly well in his career and history has, after all, proved her right a thousand times over.’

I nodded. This conversation was having an uncomfortable effect on me. I was feeling numb and strangely tingly, as if I were coming down with ’flu. I am not pretending I didn’t know they were attracted to each other, they were both good-looking and on the circuit and, as I’ve admitted, I’d seen the kissing incident at Terry’s ball. That was enough to make me jealous and angry and indignant, but this… this was something entirely different. This was when I learned a lesson I will not now lose, although it has come too late to do much good. Namely, that just because you start people off, you do not control them thereafter, nor do you have the right to pretend that you do. However Damian began that year under my aegis, however he met those people initially, he was living a life among them, in that world, by the end of it, that was as valid as my own. I had brought him out from under his stone, but at the finish he’d held the promise in his hands of what would have constituted my whole life’s happiness. I was so jealous I wanted to kill almost anybody.

‘Well, somehow her parents got wind of the whole plan. I thought later it might have been Andrew who had tipped off his mother, the dreaded Lady B. Wasn’t she ghastly tonight?’

‘Ghastly.’

‘Well, she was desperate to catch Serena for Andrew and she might have deliberately put a spoke in the works, but we’ll never know. On the day, Damian and Serena drove down together from London. I was coming from somewhere or other, but I got here at about five, after most of the house party, and they were all having tea in the drawing room. Of course, Aunt Roo was being very charming-’

‘Why is she called Aunt Roo?’

She thought for a moment. ‘I’m not completely sure. I think it’s something to do with Winnie the Pooh. Remember the mother kangaroo was called Kanga and the baby was called Roo?’ I nodded. ‘It was some game they used to play at Barrymount, when they were growing up in Ireland. Her real name’s Rosemary, but she was always Roo in the family.’ Somehow Lady Claremont’s nickname only reinforced the iron walls of the culture that Damian, in his youthful ignorance, took on all those years ago.

‘Anyway, when I came in, Damian was trying very hard. Too hard. He smiled and chatted and giggled and flashed and flickered, and Aunt Roo laughed and asked him about Cambridge and so on, but I remember thinking Uncle Pel was very quiet – which he wasn’t usually in those days – and I could tell by the look she gave me, that Serena knew it wasn’t going as well as Damian obviously thought. The guests who were staying did that silent thing, of not quite laughing and not quite letting him in. My other aunt was there, and as Damian was rabbiting on, Aunt Sheila and Roo kept swapping quiet, sisterly glances, which seemed so unkind and disloyal. I can see that’s not terribly logical for me to say, but I felt infuriated for Serena, for both of them really.’ She paused, breathless with the memory. ‘I suppose that was the moment when I realised it wasn’t going to work.’

She stopped for a moment, as if this was the first time she had ever fully registered this salient point. ‘So. We all went up to change and I was sitting at my dressing table, doing my best with my hair. I remember I’d forgotten to have it done, which seems a bit mad for your own dance, but at this precise moment there was a knock and Roo and Pel came into the room. They were already changed and Roo was covered in diamonds, and it should all have been rather merry and gay, but somehow it wasn’t. Then Uncle Pel said, “How long has this been going on?” And we were all quite quiet, as if someone was supposed to ask what he was talking about, but of course we all knew what he was talking about, so there wasn’t any point. Then I started a defence of Serena and Damian, of both of them, but even as I was talking I could hear that it all sounded so childish and ridiculous, as if I were suddenly seeing it through their eyes. I’d never been with Uncle Pel when he was so angry, in fact I’d never really seen him angry at all, but that night he was bulging with anger, blazing with it. “She wants to run off with this smarmy, little oik?” he said. “This greaser, with his oily hair and his dodgy vowels and his ‘pleased to meet you’ and his clothes from Marks and Spencer?” I’ve never forgotten that. “His clothes from Marks and Spencer.” And I looked at Roo and she said “Watson unpacked for him,” and that was that. Then it was her turn. “Of course we want Serena to be happy,” she said. “It’s all we want. Truly.” Which it obviously wasn’t. “But you see, we want her to be happy in a way we understand, in a way that will last.”’

‘I said I thought that this would last, but even as I spoke the words I felt like some little, preppy, Sandra Dee figure asking to be allowed to stay out late.’ Candida sighed. ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t much use.’

‘Did Damian really say “pleased to meet you”?’

‘Apparently. It just shows how nervous he must have been.’

‘Poor chap. Was that it?’

She shook her head. ‘By no means. Uncle Pel hadn’t finished. He was absolutely fizzing and he sort of waved his finger at me, right under my nose, like a teacher in a situation comedy, as if I were the guilty one, which I now think he must have believed, since he knew I’d connived in getting Damian up there. “You tell Serena to get rid of this little social-climbing, money-grubbing shit,” he said. “You tell her to dump him, if she doesn’t want to leave it to me to manage. That kind of chap comes into this house by the servants’ entrance, or not at all.”’