Oliver’s main interest lay in the woodwork. It was crafted from the finest dark oak, purchased through an agent who had approached the Pengarron plantation. Oliver wondered whether he would have allowed the purchase to go ahead had he known beforehand that the locally ordered consignment of timber was intended for Peter Blake.

By now the rain had tired itself out to a half-hearted drizzle and Oliver swept off his hat to view the doorway and canopy. He concluded that the excellence of the carvings of the portal and overhang were worthy of Pengarron oak. It was a grand house in every way but he doubted if the servants who would be employed in it would welcome the new idea of the kitchen being placed in the basement, causing them much inconvenience as they went about their duties. Replacing his hat, Oliver looked about for his quarry.

There were upwards of a dozen varieties of craftsmen intent upon their industry, and much noise and bustle to sift through. He saw the child first, an attractive boy of seven years who did not resemble either his mother or his father, but in common with them both looked as if he would not grow to much of a height. Simon Peter was being carried on the hefty shoulder of a labourer, chatting away for all he was worth in the indulgent man’s ear. Ignoring them and the other building workers, Oliver dismounted. His mouth was set in a grim line. He had located the man he was seeking.

Peter Blake was engaged in a rather mobile discussion with his master builder and surveyor, the one a portly man with a nervous twitch, the other a disdainful-looking character sporting a large Roman nose. They had their backs to Oliver and were unaware of his approach. The rapid change of expression from satisfaction to fear on Blake’s face as he looked up and saw Oliver bearing down on him made the craftsmen anxious that he had suddenly discovered a massive blunder in their plans. Blake hastily excused himself.

‘Wh-what do you… w-want?’ he faltered, moving towards Oliver but keeping a good distance between them. ‘If you’ve come to cause trouble, let me… let me warn you… there… there are plenty of people about.’

The distance grew smaller as Oliver kept coming. ‘I only want to talk to you – this time, Blake,’ he coldly informed him.

‘About what?’ Blake stepped back towards the master builder and surveyor, the memories of what this big man could do when in a rage forcing him to leave nothing to chance.