“She’ll be lucky,” Bill said, returning his attention to the conversation. “In this weather?”

“Motor-cars drive in the rain.”

Bill twisted to look at the window, as if he needed visual confirmation of the relentless rain and wind. “I wouldn’t bet on it. A storm like this after a long dry spell usually means flooding around here. The roads are regularly cut off in winter. It’s one of the things Jimmy wanted to deal with, when...” He made a face. “God damn Haworth. Damn him to hell.”

“He’s rotten, and all this is rotten, but it’s not down to you,” Pat said. “Come on, old man, let’s think about something else. Tell me about your boxing club.”

They chatted for some time, until there was a knock at the door and Fen called, “Pat?”

“In here.”

Fen let herself in. She looked as if her morning had been difficult.

“All right?” Pat asked, conscious of Bill’s presence.

“It was dreadful, but never mind. The car will take me to the station after lunch.”

“I’ll come and help you pack.”

“Yes, do. I’m sorry to tear your sister away, Mr. Merton.”

“Not at all,” Bill said. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to offer my sympathy?”

“I think you ought to extend that to Jimmy rather than me,” Fen said. “I wish him well, but I’ve made the only possible decision. I hope he will be happy.”

She spoke with remarkable dignity. Bill paused a second and then said, “I shall tell him he’s a fool, on multiple levels. I’m pleased to have met you, Miss Carruth.”

He extended his hand, a strikingly formal gesture. Fen shook it with equal seriousness, and, when they left the room together, whispered to Pat, “What on earth was that about?”

“Goodness knows.”

Jimmy was striding down the corridor towards them, face set and grim. He managed a nod to the two women as he passed, no more. They emerged into the main hall just as the grandfather clock chimed its noisy half hour, and saw Maurice Haworth strolling across the hall directly towards them. Fen instantly took Pat’s arm and pulled her round so they were walking around the edges of the hall, not towards Haworth. “Yes, do come and help,” she said loudly, drowning out any remark that might be made. “I’d like the company.”

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

The luncheon gong was rung at one o’clock, which might as well have been half past midnight for the darkness outside. Maurice Haworth did not join them.

“Where is Maurice?” the Earl enquired of Lady Anna.

She shrugged. She had a higher colour than normal and a self-satisfied look. Pat wondered if one took drugs at midday or waited for the cocktail hour. “I’ve no idea. He often misses luncheon. We shan’t wait.”