For a start, the ‘reasonably extensive grounds’ were massive. They drove through a large elegant gateway, and then through what seemed like acres of meadow, and past a wood, and on, and on. Will saw the distant lights of a house twinkling in the June dark, and thought they were nearly there, but the road kept going, and as the house came closer, it just got bigger.

“It’s sodding huge,” he said at last.

“Yes.”

“It’s a castle.”

“It’s not a castle. It’s an extremely large house.”

“What’s the difference?”

“It doesn’t have a portcullis. Please don’t say it’s a castle. This is bad enough.”

The great building loomed over them as Kim pulled up in front, ghostly-pale. They probably had ghosts, didn’t they? Several servants in black and white—basically evening dress, which they wore a lot better than Will had ever worn his—were waiting to open the Daimler’s doors as soon as Kim switched off the engine.

“Lord Arthur,” said a bald man, with respectful warmth. “May I say that it is a great pleasure to welcome you home once more.”

“As long as you don’t say it in anyone’s earshot,” Kim said. “Thank you, Hastings, it’s good to see you. Were you informed I have a friend with me? This is Mr. John Willerton. Will, Hastings has been the butler here for many years.”

“Welcome to Holmclere, Mr. Willerton.” Hastings bowed. “You are both in the East Wing, on the Floral Stair. James will take your bags. My lord and Lord Chingford are in the Blue Drawing-Room.”

“Waiting up? Oh good,” Kim said. “I trust there’s brandy available. No, we’ve eaten, that’s all right. Thank you, Hastings.”

“Old friend?” Will said, low-voiced, as they headed into the castle. House. Mansion.

“Good man. That’s all the welcome we’re going to get, by the way.”

Will had stayed in stately homes before, or two, anyway. Viscount Aveston’s place was not much more than a large old farmhouse, if very large and very old, and actually quite homely in its way. Lord Waring’s Hertfordshire house had been bigger, grander, and far less normal, decorated as it was with armour, flags, and oil paintings of battles, as well as extremely sharp swords on the walls. Will wouldn’t forget those in a hurry.

Holmclere left them both standing. The entrance hall was huge, with porcelain vases and marble busts on pedestals, full-length portraits of dead aristocrats in gilt frames, elaborate carving and ornate silverware. It was gigantic and silent, and the money dripped off it everywhere you looked.

A palace. That was the word. Kim had been born in a sodding palace.