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'Very,' Emma agreed tightly.
'In a tough sort of way,' Fanny added thoughtfully. 'I'm not sure I like tough men too much.' She gave Emma a little glance of inquiry. 'You're certain about the other girl? Because I was sure I felt something just now…something between you…'
'Yes,' Emma said bitterly. 'Irritation! We'd just had a knock-down row. Whenever he falls out with his girlfriend he takes it out on me as the nearest available female.'
'What's she like, this other girl?'
'Blonde and deadly,' Emma returned tartly. 'She glitters and has a vicious tongue. I hope they'll be very happy.'
Fanny laughed. 'Oh, darling! You are in a mood!'
'As Ross said, I'm not very feminine!'
'He was talking through his hat. You're the most feminine girl I know. Look how you've mothered those three children! They've been telling me all about it. You've done a wonderful job here. It all depends what you mean by feminine. If you mean someone who swoons at the sight of blood, flutters her eyelashes when a man looks at her and is too weak to carry anything heavier than a cushion…then that doesn't include you. But there's much more to a womanly woman than that, and most modern men know it!'
'You're biased in my favour,' said Emma. 'But thank you for the vote of confidence!'
They carried the tea through into the sitting-room, and found the two men deep in a gloomy silence. Guy was flicking through the pages of a country magazine. Ross stood by the window, his profile stony.
Fanny gave Emma an alarmed glance. They poured the tea, handed Guy a cup, asked Ross to sit down. 'A sandwich?' Emma asked him, fluttering her lashes sweetly.
Ross gave her a little smile of indulgent amusement which made her seethe. 'Playing games?' he murmured under his breath as he settled down in a chair.
'I thought you liked that approach,' she retorted. 'The sweet, feminine touch…'
Guy was nibbling at one of Edie's feather-light scones with appreciation. 'Can you make scones, Fanny?' he asked.
She looked smug. 'Of course!'
'We must have them for tea when we're married,' said Guy.
'If you want to, darling,' Fanny agreed.
Ross was watching Emma, his eyes sardonic. 'Touching scene,' he murmured to her, under cover of reaching for a piece of shortcake. 'Your friend isn't just a pretty face, is she? Wifely submission makes for a happy marriage.'
'Balderdash,' Emma said fiercely. 'Why don't you join the rest of us in the twentieth century, Ross?'
The children were upstairs, playing a noisy game of hide and seek. Suddenly they swept down, in a shouting body, and tore into the room.
'We're starving,' Tracy announced. 'Goody… scones and fairy cakes, biscuits and chocolate cake!'
Robin sat down on the carpet beside Emma. 'Can we have tea in here today?'
'No,' she said firmly. 'You make too many crumbs. Tea in the kitchen for you three. Come on, I'll supervise.' She detached Donna's tiny fingers from a biscuit. 'Your tea is already laid in the kitchen, sweetie.'
'Choclit cake…' Donna moaned.
'Some bread and butter first,' Emma asserted firmly.
She led them out of the room, Donna clinging to her hand, Robin close to her, talking fast, his rosy face uplifted to hers. Fanny watched her go with affectionate eyes, and began to dream about a dim and golden future in which she herself would have children clinging to her hands…
Five minutes later Amanda appeared at the back door, slender and well-groomed in silver-grey, her hair so immaculate that Emma wondered if she carried her own personal atmosphere around with her in order to be impervious to wind and weather. She stood there, casting a distasteful glance over the children as they ate their tea. 'Ross here?' she inquired in a cold drawl.
'In the sitting-room,' Emma nodded.
Amanda drifted past. Emma followed her to ask if she would have a cup of tea. Fanny was talking to Ross, laughing—she looked round as they appeared, and her blue eyes widened. Clearly, she recognised Amanda from the description Emma had given, for she then looked quickly at Ross, who was rising to greet the new arrival.
'Can you come to Queen's Daumaury
