Lost in a reverie, Charlotte was startled when the door swung open and the light of another candle bloomed in its frame. It was the younger of the two nursemaids, Ella, a pleasant girl, who was in turn surprised to find Mrs Collins curled in a chair.

‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, is aught amiss? Are the bairns quite well?’ she whispered.

Charlotte, also whispering, reassured the young woman that she had been unable to sleep, and had come to check on her daughters. Ella in turn explained that sleeping in the antechamber, as instructed by Mrs Darcy, she had been woken by the light of the candle. But now she was all concern: ‘Sleeplessness is a terrible thing, ma’am. Shall I heat you some milk or make you some tea? Mrs Reynolds has the keys to the main pantry, and Carruthers the keys to the wine cellar, otherwise I would offer you brandy. But there is milk and a loaf of sugar in the servants’ larder.’

Charlotte was about to demur, but the thought of something warm and sweet to drink was suddenly irresistible, and she accepted the offer, grateful for the kindness that prompted it.

‘But let me come downstairs with you, and we can both take something hot to drink,’ she said. ‘The girls are clearly sleeping soundly, and I do not wish them woken.’

The pair of them padded down towards the vast domestic quarters of the building, the light from their candles streaming across the panelled walls, the eyes of the long-dead figures in the portraits following them, gleaming with temporary life.

As they descended in the direction of the Great Hall, they became aware of faint music and a soft glow. They glanced at each other, puzzled, and Ella clutched at Charlotte’s arm in alarm, but Charlotte was made of sterner stuff and pursued the sounds, tracing them to their source in the red saloon. Here they found Herr Rosenstein at the piano, playing a quiet and haunting melody, his own candle guttering in the sconce.

It was hard to say who was more startled, and there were many apologies and counter-apologies and explanations before they established that they were all fugitives from Morpheus. The musician explained that he had come downstairs while the inhabitants of the house slumbered, assuming he was sufficiently far from the sleeping quarters to be able to play without creating any disturbance.

Charlotte invited him to join in their plan to imbibe a wholesome drink to encourage sleep, and he readily agreed. They took up places in front of the banked fire in one of the kitchens, resting their elbows on the rough table while Ella prepared the milk.