He found his father sitting in the library beside a log fire. Despite the fact that it was the height of summer, the room still felt cold, and the old man sat in an armchair, huddled into his clothes. He got to his feet to greet his son and Rupert was struck by how much his father had aged in the few weeks since he’d last seen him. His face was gaunt, the skin loose about his cheeks, his eyes dull, smudged with dark shadows. The hand he extended to Rupert was dry and bony, more like a claw than a hand, Rupert thought as he grasped it in his. Was this change sudden? Due entirely to Justin’s unexpected death, or had it been happening gradually, unnoticed, over the last few months?

‘Father,’ he began and then had no idea what to say next. He added rather lamely, ‘Here I am, sir. I came at once.’

His father nodded and turned back to his chair by the fire. He sat down heavily and waved Rupert to the chair opposite. For a long moment a silence lapsed about them and then Sir Philip said, ‘He was about to get married; did you know?’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Rupert gently. ‘I was to be his best man.’

‘It’s great pity you weren’t here, instead of gallivanting off to France. If you’d been here it might not have happened.’

Despite the unfairness of this remark, Rupert didn’t dispute it. He realised that his father needed someone to blame for Justin’s accident.

‘I believe Fran has been making all the necessary arrangements,’ he said to change the subject.

‘Frances has been very good,’ agreed Sir Philip. ‘Your poor mother is in no fit state to arrange anything.’

And nor are you, Rupert thought, but he did not put this thought into words. He was shaken by how his father looked and knew he must share the burden Fran had been carrying.

‘And of course there is Katharine. You will have to visit her. The funeral is on Friday – we had to allow enough time for you to get home – but you should pay a call at Marwick House before we all meet at the graveside.’ Sir Philip’s voice was matter-of-fact, and Rupert realised that that was how his father was coping with Justin’s death.

‘Of course I will, sir. I will ride over tomorrow.’

When Rupert went upstairs to see his mother, he found her in her bedchamber. She was not in bed, but wrapped in several blankets, sitting in an armchair before a glowing fire. The room was stiflingly hot, but the windows were tight shut.

Rupert crossed the room and knelt down beside her, taking her hands in his. ‘Mama,’ he said softly, ‘Mama, I’m home.’

She looked at him with blank eyes. ‘Rupert,’ she said. ‘Do you find it very cold in here? Will you put more coals on the fire?’

He did as she asked, adding a single coal to the fire before taking a seat opposite her.