The present Duke of Haversham bit his nails and looked sideways at the chilly face of his wife. “My dear,” he said tentatively, “do you believe in ghosts?”

“No I do not!” snapped the Duchess. “I believe in facts. I know you are a philanderer, sir, and that is a fact.”

“Indeed,” sneered the Duke. “I, of course, have not yet gone so far as to assault a bishop but no doubt I shall sink to your low standards one day.”

The angry couple glared at each other with hate. Their rage lasted many days and was only assuaged for a short time when they mutually agreed to fire the Groom of the Chambers who had become so meek and frightened that he was of no use at all.

Epilogue

Miss Fadden leaned back contentedly in her cane chair and watched a large red sun sinking slowly down into the blue of the Mediterranean.

Below her, the terraced gardens fell away in ordered beauty to a small curve of white sand. She stretched like an old tabby cat and picked up her knitting. Just a few more rows and it would be time to wake her mistress.

It was paradise, she reflected, this crumbling castle on the Sicilian coast. No one came to call, the few servants were paid well to be discreet, and the happiness of her master and mistress permeated every room.

Then she heard Alice’s light step and leaped guiltily to her feet. “The sun is not yet down, Your Grace,” she said. “I thought you would sleep longer.”

“He will soon be here,” said Alice, Eighth Duchess of Haversham, leaning her elbows on the warm balustrade and staring dreamily out over the sea.

Miss Fadden watched her with a doting smile, remembering their flight from the bitter cold of London, the uncertainty as to where to stay, the travel, the inns, the flying over strange towns and villages, and then finally the homecoming to this remote spot.

The sun disappeared into the water with a flash of green and one by one the first stars came out. Miss Fadden knew that the Duke would make his appearance below in the garden and come walking up the steps as he did every night so as not to alarm the servants by appearing suddenly, say, at the dinner table.

“What if he does not come?” whispered Alice suddenly. “What if he does not come?”

“He will come as he has done every night since we arrived here,” said Miss Fadden in a brisk voice.

“Every night is a miracle,” said Alice.

And all at once he was there, at the foot of the steps, smiling up at her and she looked down at him with all her heart in her eyes, holding out her arms as if to welcome him back from a long journey.