He remembered hearing that Miss Sharp had lost the chap she was supposed to marry in the Great War, so he’d felt vaguely pleased that she’d found someone else.

He’d assumed a wedding was on the cards. There’d been no announcement but Miss Sharp, he was sure, would inform him in her own good time.

Weddings, according to Esther, were arranged quickly these days, so Joseph assumed that Miss Sharp, as a soon-to-be married woman, wouldn’t move with the bank to Snowden Hall, and before his announcement to the staff, he’d taken steps to replace her. With Ray Maguire.

But as quickly as it had appeared, the ring had gone. It was a delicate matter but, clearly, she’d been let down. Perhaps the chap in question was missing in action. Or worse.

And when Miss Sharp confirmed that she would be coming to Snowden, after all – a relief in one way because she was an absolute treasure – it left Joseph with Maguire. And a tiresome situation.

Today after lunch, Miss Sharp had – most unusually – asked to see him.

‘Is your room quite in order?’ Joseph had asked her. ‘I did give instructions that you should have—’

But it was nothing like that.

‘It’s Mr Maguire,’ she said. She cast around for the right words. ‘To be perfectly honest, your Lordship, it’s proving rather difficult. I understood Ray Maguire was in charge of the move of personnel to Snowden—’

‘Correct. And he seems to have carried that out adequately. All the office furniture has arrived intact, ditto the staff and they have all found somewhere to lay their heads at night, correct?’

‘Yes. But now he’s sticking his oar in, trying to run my office and quite frankly, I won’t have it.’ The colour on Miss Sharp’s face heightened quite alarmingly. Two bright spots of red appeared, one on each cheekbone. ‘It’s him or me!’

When he’d managed to calm her with a large sweet sherry and she’d left his office much placated, Joseph reflected that he hadn’t really thought this through.

He’d have to come up with something else for Maguire.

It hadn’t taken him more than two puffs on a cigar to think of one.

‘Yes, morale, Maguire,’ Joseph said now. ‘It’s vital. Once the novelty of this place wears off, boredom may set in. The countryside isn’t for everyone. Happy folk will stay put, they won’t dash home for the weekend or decide that life would be a darn sight more exciting if they joined up.’

It would, of course, but that wasn’t the point. Joseph needed workers and preferably people who knew the ropes. He couldn’t afford to lose more staff to the war effort.

‘You don’t want them to go home at weekends, Sir?’