CHAPTER TWENTYFleur, peeping out from behind the drawn blind, watched the funeral procession winding slowly like a black snake down the drive towards Greystone Church.
The coffin was covered with flowers and most of the mourners carried a wreath of some sort, yet even so, the whole impression of the procession was one of morbid gloom.
The procession was turning, leaving the drive to take a side walk across the fields to the Church. Now she could see them clearly, the coffin drawn by the men of the household, old Barham walking first, his face, Fleur knew, creased and wrinkled in sorrow.
Immediately behind the coffin came Sir Norman and Anthony, side by side. Fleur had wondered up to the last moment whether Norman would go to the funeral, it was a difficult position for him to be in. The
