In the following year my father was absent more often than he was present. The household continued to keep its usual efficient order with the Countess at the head of affairs, but she missed him, and as I grew I sensed that something out of the way was afoot. Sometimes it was difficult for her to smile; she rarely laughed. At dinner when she sat in place of honour I could see, when I dragged my thoughts from my own concerns, that she picked at the dishes presented to her. She was pale and I think did not sleep well. ‘Where is he? Is my father at Calais?’ I would ask my mother. The Earl was often called upon to be there to oversee the defence of this most important possession on the coast of Europe. ‘No. The King has sent him to France again.’ ‘Why?’ ‘To make an alliance between our two countries.’ ‘Will it be good for us?’ ‘Yes. Your father thinks so.’ ‘Why does he not sign with France, in the King’s name? Then he could come home.’ My mother’s brow knitted.
