Rose hugged Madame Bailloux and promised to visit her in Paris. She waved them goodbye. ‘Have you asked him yet?’ urged Daisy.

‘Not yet,’ said Rose. ‘Despite the funeral, Aunt Elizabeth feels it her duty to chaperone me.’

As Harry with Becket drove Madame Bailloux off over the heathery hills, Madame Bailloux glanced at one point through her goggles and thought she saw someone crouched, half hidden in the heather, watching them through binoculars. She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. Probably a gamekeeper. If she said anything, the captain might turn back and she felt she could not bear another delay.

CHAPTER EIGHT

If a gold ring sticks tight on the finger, and cannot easily be removed, touch it with mercury, and it will become so brittle that a single blow will break it.

The Housekeeper’s Receipt Book, 1813

At last the long wake was over and the castle fell silent again, apart from the screeching of the wind, for the fine weather had broken and ragged clouds streamed in from the sea. The air was noisy, not only with the shriek of the wind but with the sound of the waves pounding against the cliffs.

To Daisy’s distress, Harry had sent a telegram to say that he had decided to go on to London with Madame Bailloux but would return shortly.

‘Is it so bad working for him?’ asked Rose.

‘No, it is just that having been your companion, I feel I have now sunk in the ranks. I am a housekeeper, admittedly with light duties. The captain expects Becket to work long hours. He should not have taken him all the way to London. I see you are still wearing your engagement ring on a chain round your neck. Do you keep it there in the hope that the captain will put it back on your finger?’

Rose flushed. ‘It is an expensive ring and I do not want to risk losing it.’ She lifted the chain from around her neck, took off the ring and put it on her finger, admiring the way the diamonds flashed in the light of the oil lamp on a table behind her.

Rose sighed and then tugged at the ring. ‘It won’t come off, Daisy. It was always rather tight.’

They worked on it with soap and then with oil, but the ring stubbornly refused to move. ‘You could put a bit of mercury on it and then break it,’ suggested Daisy.

‘I cannot do that! I’ll just need to wear it. Yes, Hunter, what is it?’

‘The dressing gong has sounded,’ said the lady’s maid.

‘Oh dear,’ sighed Rose. ‘I am so tired of having to change my clothes six times a day, but Aunt Elizabeth, despite her eccentricity, is a stickler for the conventions. Choose one of the velvets, Hunter, and a shawl. The castle has become so cold.’

Dinner was a silent affair. Aunt Elizabeth had periods when she did not feel like talking at all and did not welcome conversation from anyone else.