‘I have thought and thought.’

‘It must have been someone she knew,’ said Harry. ‘She must have put on that fancy dress to show someone.’

‘Perhaps she wanted to show it to Lady Rose and was attacked by some madman in the park.’

‘An intellectual madman,’ said Harry dryly, ‘to take the trouble to arrange her like the Lady of Shalott.’

‘I’ve thought about that,’ said Jeremy eagerly. ‘What if the whole effect was an accident? What if the murderer, horrified at what he had done, simply, well, laid her out, as it were?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Harry. ‘There was talk that Miss Tremaine was fond of a local blacksmith’s son, Roger Dallow.’

Jeremy gave a scornful laugh. ‘Village gossip. I know where that came from. That old maid, Miss Friendly, always mooning about the place and dreaming of romance. Every boy and man for miles around was fascinated by Dolly, but she did not encourage any of them.’

‘Have you any idea what became of Roger?’

‘He ran away. I know that. His father is a brutal man, so nobody was surprised.’

‘And he never wrote to your sister or tried to communicate with her in any way? Becket, pray come nearer the fire. You must be frozen over there.’

Jeremy gave a sour laugh. ‘As far as I know, Dallow was illiterate. He was keen to attend school, I’ll say that for him, but his father kept him working at the smithy.’

Harry repressed a sigh. This whole journey had turned out to be a waste of time. He had learned that Jeremy had spent the summer in Greece and had waited eagerly for the Michaelmas term at Oxford to begin in the autumn. He could think of nothing more to ask him and he and Becket took their leave.

As the train approached London, he looked down at the little houses with their neat suburban gardens and said to Becket, ‘I wonder what it would he like to live in one of those little houses, free from the pressures of society.’

Becket followed his gaze and repressed a smile. ‘Those are the homes of the lower middle classes, sir. You would find snobbery and social rules are as rigid as they are in high society. Some people even imagine escaping to a cottage in the country. The vicar and his wife would call and so pigeonhole them into the correct social stratum. The news of the incomers would go round the village and they would only receive calls from people on their own social level and be subjected to all the petty tyrannies of snobbery. But cheer up, sir. The aristocratic male does have freedom. If he does not conform to the rules of society, he is regarded as eccentric. If he is very rich and marriageable, then he is regarded as Byronic.’

‘I did not know you were such a cynic, Becket.’

‘Merely an observer of the world.’

There was a sudden huge bang and the carriage in which they were sitting tumbled over on one side.