“Shooting at you? You mean with a gun? Are you sure? You didn’t wander into the path of a shoot like that poor man yesterday?”

“No,” I said. “We were nowhere near a shoot and I have to conclude that someone was actually aiming at us.”

“Goodness gracious,” she gasped. “Please come inside.” She peered out past us as if expecting to see a hooded figure with guns standing there. She shut the door hurriedly behind us. “Won’t you come through to the sitting room?”

“I should telephone the castle first and let them know what has happened,” I said. “You do have a telephone, don’t you?”

“Usually yes.” She frowned. “But the line came down when an oak fell in a big storm and I’ve been waiting for the men to reconnect us. And I’m afraid my husband and daughter have taken both of our vehicles. But you’re quite safe here. My husband should be back soon and he can drive you back to the castle.”

She ushered us through to a spacious but rather dark sitting room. The furniture was good quality but with a faded air to it. “Please take a seat. I’ll have the girl make you some tea, or you’d probably prefer milk, wouldn’t you, Your Royal Highness?”

“Thank you very much. Milk would be lovely.” Even in moments of stress, Elizabeth didn’t forget her manners.

The woman went back into the hallway again, calling out to a servant. I leaned close to Elizabeth. “Who is that? Do you know?”

She nodded. “I think her husband is in charge of the estate for Grandpapa.”

“Major Padgett, do you mean?”

“That’s right. He’s nice, isn’t he? He helped me with my riding last summer.”

We stopped talking as Mrs. Padgett came back in.

“Tea will be ready in a moment,” she said. “What a horrible ordeal. I trust that neither of you was hurt?”

“No. Luckily Princess Elizabeth is a good horsewoman. We rode out of range quickly.”

“Extraordinary. Quite extraordinary.” She shook her head. “On the estate too. Who could possibly get onto the estate without being noticed?”

“I suppose it’s not hard if one is determined,” I said.

“Do you think it could be foreign anarchists? One reads of such things in other countries but surely Britain is safe.” She stared at me. I noticed she had mournful brown eyes, like a cocker spaniel’s, but not as bright.

“I would hope so,” I said.

Tea was brought in, plus a glass of milk for Elizabeth. Mrs. Padgett poured and handed around a plate of oatcakes. “Our cook is a dab hand with the local cooking,” she said. “Her oatcakes are famous.”