‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Bainbridge answered. ‘But there seems to be a problem with the telephone line. With your father in town, I thought you ought to know.’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be there in a minute.’ He turned back to Lou. ‘Shall we say seven o’clock for dinner?’

‘All right.’

‘I shall look forward to it.’

11

Lou had only been back in her room ten minutes – barely enough time to process what had just happened; if anything had happened – when Sally knocked on the door.

‘Will you be wanting to dress in something simple tonight?’ Sally asked. ‘With it being just you and Captain Mandeville dining?’

News certainly travelled quickly here. ‘I’d still like to look presentable. Although not too … showy.’

‘Very good, Miss.’ Sally took a dress from the rail in the wardrobe, frowned and put it back. ‘Chef’s livid,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘He’s spent all afternoon preparing a meal for the family, which he’s now going to feed to the staff. He says it’s wasted on us. Ah, this will do perfectly.’ She closed the wardrobe and hooked a dress on the door.

Lou hovered beside the bed, waiting for Sally to help her undress. At least Sally now felt able to talk more openly to her, even if she did insist on calling her “Miss.”

After her bath, Lou sat at the dressing table where Sally had arranged a series of bottles and jars. If she had her way, she’d apply her own make-up, but as most of the powders and creams remained a mystery, once again, she surrendered herself into Sally’s capable hands.

‘Miss,’ Sally said as she rubbed rouge into Lou’s cheeks, ‘would you happen to have seen your kidskin gloves anywhere?’

Lou shook her head. ‘Not since I wore them to church yesterday.’

‘That’s what’s so odd. I’m sure I put them away in the drawer, only when I looked earlier, they weren’t there. I’ll ask Mrs Moriarty whether they’ve somehow got muddled with the laundry.’

Lou’s mind drifted away from any thought of gloves. Through the open curtains, she watched the snow fall outside. Thanks to Mother Nature, Hill House was an island tonight. The drawbridges had been taken in. The hatches battened down. There was no chance of anyone arriving unexpectedly.

‘Are you thinking of something nice, Miss?’ Sally asked.

‘Why?’

‘You’re smiling.’

‘Am I?’ Lou looked in the mirror. Sally was right, she was smiling.

Smoothing her dress, Lou made her way down the stairs. She had been so preoccupied with how she looked that she hadn’t worked out how to break the news to Tom that she couldn’t dance. Perhaps she could say that she had weak knees or perhaps they could just “muddle through.” Halfway down the stairs, the front door flew open, and Lou’s smile dropped.

Sir Charles, Lady Mandeville, Edward, Mrs Hart, and Charlotte all rushed inside, chased by a flurry of snow.