The funeral was held the following day. Amabel Chalfont did not attend and nor did Lady Blake, but both Frances and Kitty, heavily veiled and dressed in unrelieved black, insisted on being at the church and the graveside, after which Kitty returned to Marwick House. Fran, however, played the part of her father’s hostess and joined him in welcoming the few guests who chose to come back to Pilgrim’s Oak. No one stayed long and it was with enormous relief that both Rupert and Fran heard the sound of wheels on gravel as the last carriage drove away and Mitchell closing the front door behind it.

It seemed to both of them that the house that had sheltered them all their lives settled round them as a silent shield. Sir Philip had retired to his library, where despite the warmth of the day a fire had been lit and a tray with brandy and glasses had been laid out. They did not join him, but went into the quiet of the drawing room and sat down together.

‘Thank goodness that’s over,’ breathed Fran. ‘I’m exhausted.’

Neither of them had partaken of the refreshments prepared for the guests.

‘You should eat something,’ Rupert said. ‘I’ll ring for Mitchell.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ said Fran wearily, ‘really, Rupert.’

‘A bowl of soup and some bread and cheese,’ Rupert said firmly. ‘We have to keep up our strength.’ He reached for the bell and when Mitchell came in answer, he asked for the food.

‘I saw you talking to Sir James,’ Fran said as she leaned back in her chair and waited for their supper to appear. ‘What did he want?’

‘To tell me my business,’ retorted Rupert, his eyes darkening at the memory of his conversation with Kitty’s father. Before he returned to Marwick House, Sir James Blake had crossed the room to where Rupert had been speaking with Mr Flugue, thanking him for his thoughtful handling of the inquest the previous day.

‘No point in dragging things out,’ said the coroner. ‘Difficult enough for all concerned.’

Sir James did not exactly interrupt, but standing beside Rupert in a proprietorial way he made it clear that he wanted a private word and the coroner took himself off.

‘Sad day,’ Sir James said, glancing round the room. ‘Very sad. Poor Kitty would come to the church, though her mother and I argued against it. Very hard for her.’

Rupert gave a nod of agreement and said, ‘And very brave.’

‘Your father was finding it difficult… you could see.’

‘That’s hardly surprising, sir,’ replied Rupert. ‘It’s been a dreadful shock to all of us.’

‘Well,’ went on Sir James. ‘Sir Philip’s still got you. He’s not getting any younger and he’ll be depending on your support, I dare say.’

While making these comments, Kitty’s father had not made actual eye contact with Rupert, seeming, Rupert thought when he considered the conversation later, to have been addressing himself to the air between them. ‘No more going off on your travels, eh?’ And now Sir James did look directly at him. ‘Duty before pleasure, I suppose. Yes, I expect you’ll be taking over the running of the estate, like your brother was.’