“There’s a wooden gate that I think will lead us to the village,” he said. He pointed and, sure enough, there was a wide wooden gate offering us an opening in the stone wall that ran the perimeter of the castle property.

“Do you think this is a secret entrance to the castle grounds?” I asked.

“Most likely it’s just the path the local farmers use to reach the fields,” Andre said. “A shortcut, if you will.”

“After you,” Viv said.

We left the main path and took the side trail Andre indicated. When we arrived at the gate, we saw it had a simple latch, no lock. We made our way through it, and were free from the castle and headed to the village. Much to Mabel’s dismay, we had to ford a small stream, and when we stepped up onto the opposite bank, she stomped her feet, letting me know quite plainly that she was unhappy.

“Do we know where Dominick Falco lives?” Viv asked. “How impolite is it of me to just arrive on his doorstep? After all, he did retire.”

“Once a milliner, always a milliner,” I said. I took out my phone and checked his address. He lived at 4 Adelaide Court. The village was small, maybe three thousand people; how hard could he be to find?

I opened an app on my phone and entered the address. The directions led us through town, which was quiet for a Friday morning, and down a side street and then another until we found Adelaide Court. We passed people, but no one paid any mind to the three of us riding on horseback through the middle of the village. You have to love the country.

“I don’t see number four,” Andre said. “Oh, wait, the numbers are going down.”

We followed him along the cobbled road, which was so quaint. The upper stories of the houses lining the street were covered in ivy or sporting hanging flower baskets. The architecture was old, angular redbrick buildings, some of which were painted white, thick wooden shingles for roofs, and multipaned windows that looked out onto the street. I felt as if we’d passed through some portal and stepped back in time.

“There it is,” Viv cried. She pointed at a charming cottage up ahead. She stopped her horse and looked at me and said, “I can’t do this. Let’s go back.”

“What?” I cried. “We came all this way and my backside is killing me. We are absolutely doing this.”

“But to call without notice,” she protested. “It’s so rude.”

“We’re just going to say hello,” I said. “If he’s busy we can arrange to come back another time. We’re stuck here for a few more days anyway.”