‘Sybil will know what to do,’ she muttered, as she slipped the letter into her handbag. ‘She’s the cleverest person I’ve ever met,’ she thought with a bolt of pride. ‘Surely Sybil will have some ideas about how I can set about finding out what really did happen to my poor husband.’

After her extremely challenging maths exam in one of the government offices, Sybil dropped by to say farewell to her former manager, a middle-aged woman (whom she respected) with iron-grey hair and a grim set to her mouth.

‘We shall miss you, Miss Harwood.’

‘I’m ready for a change, something new and a little more demanding,’ Sybil replied brightly.

The manager’s bony shoulders bristled. ‘Radar-station locations are a far cry from Whitehall,’ she informed Sybil, who gave a tight but polite smile.

‘I’m aware of that: by definition they’re required to be isolated and close to the sea.’

‘You might find the work gruelling; it was predominantly a man’s world,’ the manager told her.

‘Women can do mathematics as well as men, and who else is there left to do the work but women?’ Sybil asked realistically.

‘Fair point,’ the manager sniffed.

‘Anyway, it’s the work I’m keen on, vital war work which I hope I shall be suited to.’

‘I’m sure it will suit you very well indeed, if you can bear the isolation.’

‘I’m rather good at that these days,’ Sybil replied; then, smiling to herself, she thought, ‘After months in Mary Vale I’ve become well acquainted with isolation.’

As Sybil talked of her future, Rosie was knocking nervously on the Dowry House’s kitchen door, which was opened by a scullery maid whom Rosie had already acquainted herself with.

‘This way, he’s waiting for you,’ the little maid whispered, as she whisked Rosie through the servants’ hall to the butler’s pantry, where Rosie immediately thanked the butler for arranging her meeting with Lord Stow, who had only just returned from Stowupland.

‘I mentioned you would be briefly dropping in,’ the butler informed Rosie.

‘What did he say?’ she enquired.

‘He registered his surprise after so many years.’

‘But he didn’t mind?’ Rosie asked anxiously.

The butler shrugged. ‘Just make sure you don’t overstay your welcome,’ he advised, before leading Rosie into the drawing room.

Taking a deep breath, Rosie dipped a curtsey to her former employer, then, after a few curt pleasantries from his lordship, she waded in.

‘Sir, there’s something that has been on my mind since I left your employment.’ Realizing she was trembling with nerves, she took a deep breath before continuing. ‘It concerns the well-being of my former mistress, Lady Veronica.’

His lordship’s thick grey eyebrows shot up, though his voice remained calm. ‘Indeed.’

‘Forgive my impertinence, sir …’ Suddenly overwhelmed by what she was about to say, Rosie just blurted it out. ‘Are you aware of how badly Brigadier Baldwin treats your daughter?’