Philomena shook her head. She was being foolish. She had thoroughly enjoyed reading Northanger Abbey, Miss Austen’s wonderfully satirical novel that poked fun at a silly young girl’s absurd imaginings of terrible deeds. Surely, she had more sense than that untried fictional heroine, Catherine Morland?

Nevertheless, Philomena could not escape the fact that some mystery surrounded Lady Thatcham’s death. The longer she thought about it, the more convinced she became that Beatrice’s widowed husband, Lord Thatcham, had something to hide. If that was so, then clearly the East Wing of the Hall held the key to the mystery. He had made such a point of forbidding a visit there that the East Wing must surely contain something truly dreadful.

There was only one way to find out the truth. While Lord Thatcham and the other members of the family were away, Philomena would make an excuse and visit the East Wing. She would be quite safe while the master was out, riding across the fields. She would discover every guilty secret and make the man pay for his wickedness.

She giggled with excitement. She had said she wanted adventures: well, here was one right in front of her. Unravelling a mystery would be the perfect way to forget that unsettling encounter with the master of the house yesterday. The mystery of Beatrice, the missing wife, seemed to reach out and beg Philomena to solve it. Such a venture would clear away every trace of restlessness. Of course, she cared nothing for Lord Thatcham. She simply found him unbearable, arrogant and proud. She would discover his guilty secrets and humble him before her.

She supervised John over breakfast: a hearty spread of eggs, bacon and kidneys, washed down with plenty of milk and followed by warm muffins smothered with butter and jam. No wonder the boy was so sturdy and strong. Replenished by the food, the child’s energy levels soared.

He would not concentrate on books, drawing or quiet filigree work. “Can we go out?”

Indoor activity was not likely to calm such energetic liveliness and so Philomena, feeling equally restless, agreed to take the boy walking into the village while she considered the plan of revenge on his father.

First, they descended to the Servants’ Hall where the upper members of the indoor staff, the butler, housekeeper, cook and ladies’ maids, were finishing their own morning repast. “Good morning, Master John,” they chorused, and rose to their feet. John chuckled and trotted through into the kitchen, quickly homing in on Ivy, the kitchen maid, grinning at her and demanding cake. None of the kitchen staff was ever able to refuse him anything, so he seemed assured of success.