“Pussies, lots and lots of pussies,” he said, as Carina stooped down to stroke the mother cat.

There was a bowl of milk beside the basket and Carina knew that someone must be looking after the cat, the same person, she guessed, who kept the house dusted so that it looked like a Sleeping Beauty’s Palace, ready for reoccupation at any moment.

The copper saucepans on the chimney-shelf and hanging from the wall were bright, the heavy table had been scrubbed white and the stove black-leaded by careful hands.

And yet, it was all so quiet and empty. Carina longed to see it filled with the bustle and noise of cooks and scullery maids, the oven doors opening to show the newly rising bread, the trays waiting with delicious food to be carried through to the dining room.

And to think that Sir Percy would have all this, as well as The Castle!

Carina felt her heart contract at the horror of it. And now, because she felt urgently that she must help Lord Lynche and be with him, she left Dipa in the kitchen and went back to the salon

Lord Lynche was standing with his arms leaning against the marble mantelpiece, staring into the empty grate.

“I thought you had gone,” he said.

“No,” Carina answered. “I did not like to leave you.”

His lips curved in a cynical smile.

“Were you afraid that I might blow my brains out?” he asked. “I assure you I do not have the courage for that.”

“I was wondering,” Carina said, “whether you had eaten any breakfast.”

“You don’t suppose I could eat?” Lord Lynche said, in what was almost a hostile manner.

“I think that is what you should do,” Carina answered. “My mother used to say that things are never quite so bad after one has had a meal. Surely there is someone here who could cook us something? “

Lord Lynche shook his head.

“The farmer’s wife comes in every day,” he said, “but she lives nearly a mile across the fields.”

“Very well,” Carina said, undaunted, “let’s find something for ourselves. Isn’t there a hen outside that would lay something as ordinary as an egg?”

“Damn you!” he exclaimed. “I suppose you are ordering me to go out and find one.”

“Why not?” Carina enquired. “You are not going to do any good by staying here and being miserable.”

He walked slowly and despondently ahead of her across the hall.

Then he stopped and looked up at the staircase.

“My great-grandfather ordered the Adam brothers to build this house,” he said. “He wanted it for his wife, when she should become a widow. When it was finished, Robert Adam said that it was the happiest house he had ever built, everything had gone right and everything had been completed on time without trouble or disagreements. I wonder what he would say at this moment?”

“Let us answer that question after breakfast,” Carina proposed.