‘What the hell have you been about? Come and take our mounts at once,’ Luke snarled at their half-hidden figures. ‘Is his lordship at home?’

‘Oh, Mister Luke! Jack!’ Michael simpered, leaping into full view and bowing again and again. Conan followed, thrusting his own head down low. Michael said, ‘We’re some sorry not t’ be here ready for ’ee, sir. And no, sir, his lordship’s over the stud, for a foaling. Her ladyship and Miss Kelynen and Miss Cordelia are gone too.’

‘Thank God for that,’ Luke rasped under his breath. He broke into a fit of coughing. The two stable boys watched wide-eyed, as he hacked and gasped for a full minute while Jack vigorously patted his back.

Next instant, Luke was barking huskily, ‘What are you two standing about for? These horses are not in good form but do your best for them. Tomorrow, put the pony out to pasture. Don’t you dare send anyone to inform Sir Oliver we’re here. Come along Jack, bring Mrs Rosevear into the house.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Jack reverted to the use of Luke’s proper title in the presence of the stable boys. He made no response when Michael said he was glad to see him back safely. He would rather have gone straight to his cottage, reached by a short walk behind the orchards, but he knew Luke would not be argued with. He gave his arm to Alicia. Statuesque, but like a wraith in the dark, she could only stumble a few steps. Luke helped guide her along to a door which opened on to the long corridor that ran to the kitchens.

‘Mrs O’Flynn! Come at once, if you please!’ He shouted for the housekeeper, risking his sore throat. ‘We’re in need of assistance.’

Polly O’Flynn, plain clothed, steadfast and efficient, wife of the estate gamekeeper and head forester, was there in a moment. Luke noticed she had stepped into middle age during his absence. Her cotton-capped hair was now completely grey, her jawline no longer firm, a pound or two of weight was added about her hips. A strange melancholy seeped into him. It was only a little thing to see a change in a servant, but it was more than just change. It was ageing, and it was irrevocable. What other unpleasant surprises lay in wait for him?

‘God in heaven is merciful!’ Polly exclaimed, bending at the knee. ‘Her ladyship will be that pleased you’re both home safely, and in time for Master Harry’s baptism. I suggest you go along to the library, Mr Pengarron, there’s a fire lit against the chill in there. I’ll see to your needs at once.’

She turned to Jack. ‘Your cottage is in proper order, Jack, all ready for your return.’