The late-night silence was a little unnerving. Alice had grown up in a house that had practically bustled with servants and guests, even in the middle of the night, and she was used to seeing strangers about. But the servants had departed one by one as times had grown mean, until only Cook, Miss Juniper, and her father’s man were left, and the visitors were less common than they used to be. The guest rooms that lined the hallway were all shut up now, with sheets draped over the furniture.

She passed the doors quickly, tugging her robe a little tighter, and ducked into the servants’ stairs that led to the kitchen. Her father would probably be there, fixing himself something hot to drink.

Sure enough, the swinging door at the bottom of the steps was outlined in yellow light. Alice put her hand out to push it open, but as her fingers brushed the wood she heard the voices, and realized her father wasn’t alone.

‘. . . you have to know what we can do for you, Mr Creighton,’ said someone who wasn’t her father. ‘Someone is going to take advantage of it sooner or later.’

Alice turned away at once. Being up late was one thing, but eavesdropping on her father’s business conversations was quite another. She’d put her foot on the first step when the sound of her father’s voice brought her up short.

‘Don’t you dare!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t you dare threaten my family.’

The words hung in the air for long seconds, like a fading firework.

Her father never shouted, at least not in her hearing. He was a quiet, honest man who dealt fairly with everyone, put flowers on her mother’s grave once a month, and went to church every Sunday. Hearing him talk like that was like watching a teddy bear yawn and reveal a mouth full of fangs. Alice stood perfectly still, not daring to move even her eyes. She wanted to run, knew she ought to – whatever was being said was obviously not for her ears – but her feet felt like lead weights.

‘Mr Creighton,’ said the other man. ‘Nobody’s threatening. I’m just stating a fact. Nothing wrong with stating a fact, is there? No law against it.’

His voice was odd, high and nasal. Alice could hear a strange sound as well, a kind of urgent thrum-thrum-thrum.

‘Don’t mess me around,’ her father said, not shouting now but still angrier than she’d ever heard him. ‘We both know what you’re here to say, and I’m sure you know what my answer’s going to be.’

‘I strongly recommend you reconsider your position, Mr Creighton.’ The thrumming grew louder. ‘For the sake of everyone involved.’

‘By God,’ Alice’s father said. ‘So help me, I ought to break your ugly head against the wall.’