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Lucie’s heart was wrung by the stricken expression on her sister’s face and she put a protective arm around her shoulder. ‘You look burned out, Bella. What has happened? What’s happened to James?’

‘James ran into the path of Mr Brabazon’s curricle and four.’

‘What the devil! Apologies, ladies. Not Ant’s horses! He’ll be mortified.’ Lord Lynwood sounded disbelieving. ‘How could it have happened? How’s the little scamp?’

‘Bruised and has a broken rib. Thank goodness nothing worse as far as the doctor can see.’

‘I’m so sorry. Dash it, though, Ant will be desolate. He was getting inordinately fond of your little lad, you know.’

‘I blame him for the accident, Freddie. It’s a grief to me to say it, but he was driving his horses no better than a coxcomb showing off his prancers. At far too fast a pace for the street.’

‘Oh, no! Don’t ever say that to him. Goddammit! His pride can’t take it. He’s top-o-the-trees, an out-and-outer. No one better with the horses. That it’s his fault little Jim is injured will pierce him through and through.’ Lord Lynwood was exercised by Sybella’s harsh judgement and continued with dismay, ‘He may look as if he’s made of stone, but Ant has a heart and a half; it just lies as deep as the grave.’ But Sybella could hardly bear to admit even to herself that she had been negligent in this most sacred duty to protect her son.

‘How long before James will be up and running around again?’ Lucie looked across at the sofa where her nephew lay like a battered cherub, his head and hands grazed and bruised.

‘When he feels like it. He’ll be in pain, but I have to help him do some deep breaths and then we have to sing together to get his lungs working. We don’t want to risk inflammation and fever.’

‘We’ve both been in the wars with our favourite horses.’ Lucie shook her head. ‘It’s a dangerous game.’

‘But you and James have been so lucky. It could have been so much worse.’ Sybella’s voice became fainter as she spoke. For a moment, she was overtaken by the nightmare thought that she could have lost them both. She turned away, then after a few seconds took her sister’s arm. ‘Would you and Freddie help me carry James upstairs when he awakes? I’m going to ask Nurse to make up a bed for him in my room.’

Once again, Sybella hardly slept. She and Nurse took it in turns to minister to James through a restless night when every movement caused him pain. The doctor had left a small bottle of mild syrup of poppy mixed with oil of roses and mallows to be used to ease the discomfort and help him to sleep. Sybella lay awake, wondering how best to speed her small son’s recovery. She knew honey and comfrey would help in the healing process, after all, the country people called comfrey knit-bone and its hairy-leaved clumps grew freely in the orchard at home. In her sleepless state, she was almost hallucinating with anxiety and fatigue, and the determination to get James back to the Manor became her overriding desire.

Sybella watched the grey dawn breaking and relaxed for the first time as James seemed at last to have been overtaken by restful sleep. She closed her eyes. Suddenly it was nine o’clock and Nurse had bathed James and given him some toast and milk for breakfast. She sprang from her bed and knelt by his side. ‘Good morning, my darling, you look a little better.’

‘I am. Want to get up?’ He struggled to sit and cried out with the pain.

‘Now take care. Just wait for me to dress then we’ll see how you feel. But you’ll have to stay on the sofa downstairs.’

‘Play with my soldiers?’

‘Yes, you can. And I’ll read to you too.’

His energy was flagging by noon and Sybella herself was longing for a chance to close her eyes. There was a knock on the front door and Samson’s voice could be heard in the hall. The sitting room door opened. ‘Mr Brabazon to see you and Master James, Miss Sybella.’ Sybella hesitated. She was too fatigued to resist and just nodded. The door was filled by Anthony Brabazon’s tall frame, a look of stark concern on his face. In his hand was a paper packet.

He came across to Sybella, who had risen from the sofa. Taking her hand, he looked down on James’s pale countenance, where his grazes were already less livid and growing scabs. ‘Master Jim, I have something for you.’ He handed him the packet.

James opened it slowly then turned an ecstatic face to his mother. ‘My kite!’

Sybella looked questioningly at Mr Brabazon. ‘I’m afraid the original kite was trampled but I managed to get this one from the Egyptian Hall this morning.’

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was expressionless. She was still angry with him and with herself, and the conflict of emotion wearied her all the more.

‘How is he?’ His voice was gentle.

‘As you surmised, his arms and legs are not broken but he has a broken rib, where a hoof came down on his side.’

‘I’ve been haggard at the thought of the danger he was in. And you too, going to his aid.’ He had run a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic gesture of distraction, the lines in his stern face even more gaunt and severe. ‘How much worse it could have been. One or both of you could have…’ and his voice died away.

Sybella felt disinclined to offer him any consolation by commending the speed with which he brought his spirited steeds to a standstill, but said quietly, ‘Perhaps the gods were with us.’

He glanced across at James, who was happily twirling the kite between his hands. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?’

Sybella suddenly remembered her resolution in the night. ‘I really want to take him home, as soon as the doctor gives us permission to travel. I wonder if I could borrow one of your chaises? I think it might be more comfortable than Lady Godley’s or our own rather ancient conveyances.’

‘Of course. In fact, I’ll escort you back to the Manor myself. We can easily do it in a day as I have my horses stabled at the post houses along the Bath Road, so we can make swift progress.’

‘You don’t have to accompany us,’ she said stiffly.