A wave of nausea rose from her gut. An historian needs dispassion, remember? Remember, facts are facts.

She took a deep breath. Ok, so if old Bertie’s memory of events was to be trusted, then Charlotte had committed suicide while pregnant with George’s child. Knowing Charlotte as Lou now did, it was impossible to imagine that she was capable of taking her own life. She needed to find out how that had happened, starting with what hold George had had over the Mandevilles that allowed such a marriage to take place.

Lou scrolled through a list of articles about business deals, munitions factories and social calendars, until she came to an article dated April 24 1920. Titled Coroner’s Inquest into the Tragic Death of a Lady, there was a name beside it. Lady Charlotte Caxton.

Lou picked up her pencil. A shaky grey line wove across the page. Just last night, she had helped the young girl thread ribbons around the branches of a Christmas tree, and now here she was, about to read a report into her death.

Dispassion, Lou. You’re an historian. Imagine you’re researching a stranger.

Upending the pencil, she took a steadying breath and used the rubber to erase the graphite sprawl. She clicked on the link. A scanned article appeared, the headline blazing across the screen in an antiquated typeface. Lou began to read the report of an inquest held in Northampton, making notes as she went.

The reporter recalled the scene in the coroner’s court. The public gallery had been filled to capacity, with standing room only, to hear the facts and evidence surrounding a death that had shocked the community. In the sixth month of her pregnancy, Lady Charlotte Caxton had been discovered at the bottom of a little-used staircase at her husband’s ancestral home, Caxton Hall. Her husband, Lord Caxton, had been at home at the time of the unfortunate event, but having spent the best part of the morning in his orangery, before leaving to pay a visit to his mother, the Dowager Viscountess Caxton, he had been unaware of anything untoward. He was alerted to his wife’s accident by a messenger dispatched to the dowager house, at which point Lord Caxton returned to Caxton Hall.

Various servants had been called to give evidence to the coroner and the jury. A picture was painted of the shock they all experienced on discovering Lady Caxton, who was presumed to have lain where she had fallen for up to an hour, on account of her maid having last seen her on taking up a tray of breakfast. The doctor and police who had attended all confirmed that there was nothing to be done for the poor young woman. Lady Caxton had been removed to her bedroom where she lost her pregnancy and passed away within the hour.

The butler gave evidence, as did the two footmen who carried Lady Caxton to her room. Her lady’s maid had to be excused from the witness stand three times before she was able to finish giving her testimony. The final witness to be called was Lord George Caxton. He confirmed the details that had been given as to the events surrounding his wife’s death. A hush had fallen over the court when he further stated that he was sorry to report that his wife had been of troubled mind for some time, suggesting that it was due to an infirmity that ran in her family. He had hoped that marriage would quiet her mind but had privately been concerned of what this inherited infirmity might make his wife capable of, especially in light of the events surrounding her father’s death the previous year.