Outside, the fog had deepened to a solid wall of white, shrouding Hill House as though a cloud had slipped from the sky. The world had shrunk to only that which was visible within two, perhaps three feet. Lou followed Captain Mandeville around the side of the house. She had to take two steps for every one of his strides and, once or twice, sensed him slow his pace allowing her to catch up.

They passed the entrance to the walled garden, and Lou peered through the gates. She could just make out the gnarled branches of plants in hibernation and in the far corner, a welcoming smudge of orange light glowed inside one of the greenhouses.

‘Watch your step,’ Captain Mandeville said, as they crossed the stable yard. ‘The cobbles are swept clear of snow every morning, but they can be treacherously slippy.’ Opening the heavy wooden door, he moved aside, letting Lou enter the stables ahead of him.

A wall of warmth hit her, followed by the sweet scent of hay mixed with the tang of leather. She gazed around the stables, taking it all in – the row of stalls running the length of one wall, each decorated with polished brass; the horses tethered loosely to metal hoops in the brickwork; the hand-painted porcelain plaques announcing the names of each horse chomping at the feed in their troughs – Ambrose, Delilah, Leopold, Horatio. These stables were so full of life; so full of beating hearts; so unlike the charred shell of her own time.

A man appeared from a room at the end of the stalls, rolling down his shirtsleeves. A black Labrador slipped past his legs. Wagging its tail frantically, it made a beeline for Captain Mandeville.

‘Hello, Clarence.’ Captain Mandeville stooped to ruffle the dog’s ears. ‘And Elliot, how the devil are you?’

The groom snapped his heels together and saluted Captain Mandeville. ‘Can’t complain, sir,’ he said in a broad Yorkshire accent.

‘Really, there’s no need for that.’ Captain Mandeville took the man’s hand and shook it. ‘And the mounts?’

‘Ambrose there had a touch of colic in the summer.’ With an almost imperceptible twitch of his head, the groom indicated he was talking about a grey and white dappled horse snuffling in his trough. ‘Aside from that, they’ve given me no trouble.’

‘Good. Excellent.’

Captain Mandeville introduced Lou to Elliot, before joining him in going from stall to stall so that Elliot could update him on when each horse had been ridden last, how their appetites had been, how much roughage had been added to their feed in this cold weather. Captain Mandeville listened intently, patting the flank of each horse as he paused in its stall. When he reached Ambrose, he gave the horse an extra pat, and Ambrose responded by scratching his hoof across the cobbles, letting out a contended-sounding snort.

At the very last stall, which was obscured by a high dividing panel, Elliot stepped aside. Captain Mandeville entered alone.