Philomena took his hand firmly. “I think not,” she said with a smile. John looked up, his face turning red, prepared to demand his rights. Philomena raised her eyebrows and frowned. The fierce expression left him in no doubt that the nurse would confiscate anything he managed to extort from Ivy, so, reluctantly, he gave up.

“Master John and I will visit the village, this morning,” Philomena told the cook, who nodded approvingly at the new nursemaid’s command of the young master. “I wondered if there were any messages we could undertake for you.”

Ivy sighed. “I wish I could come along with you,” she said, her voice shrill with complaint. “It ain’t fair. There are that many pots to wash I’m sure my hands will shrivel away, and I won’t have a half day off to walk around the village for over a week.”

“Now, be quiet, Ivy,” said Mrs. Bramble. “You know what your job is, and it’s no good aping your betters.”

“She ain’t my betters,” muttered Ivy.

Mrs. Bramble pretended she had not heard and offered Philomena a list of items for purchase in the village.

“Maybe you’ll see the Hunt,” offered Ivy, regaining a degree of good humour in spite of Mrs. Bramble’s set down. “They do say that the Master is gone out looking for that Mr. Muldrow, to teach him a lesson.”

The cook gasped. “How dare you speak like that, Ivy? You don’t know what you’re talking about, and it’s none of your business anyway.”

She leaned forward to hiss at the girl. “Especially with Master John so close by.” In a normal voice, Mrs. Bramble went on, “You get on with those pots and don’t leave any rings around them, neither, or you’ll be washing up all day.”

“Yes, Mrs. Bramble.” Ivy sighed and fell silent.

“Don’t you take no notice of her,” Mrs. Bramble advised Philomena, handing over a wicker basket for the shopping. “Young Ivy listens to a lot of gossip in the village from people who know no better. I’m sure I don’t know what they’ve been a-saying.”

The cook could not quite meet Philomena’s eyes. She fumbled with cloths and pots as if something was amiss. Philomena frowned. The mystery deepened. What had Mr. Muldrow to do with Lord Thatcham?

Thoughtful, she set a brisk pace towards the village. John pulled away, thrusting his stout stick into the hedgerows, chasing after imaginary rabbits and weasels. Philomena was left free to follow some intriguing thoughts. Who were the Muldrows? What deed of Arthur Muldrow’s had so displeased Lord Thatcham that he deserved a lesson? Mrs. Bramble’s reaction left Philomena in no doubt that Ivy had been telling the truth. It added to the growing certainty that the master of the Hall was possessed of a guilty secret connected to the mysterious disappearance of Lady Thatcham.