She gave me a nervous little smile. I understood. She came out of the room and opened the adjoining door. This was a child’s perfect nursery, a white-canopied crib, a rocking horse in the window, a doll’s house and a sturdy wooden cart big enough for a child to sit in but now full of various dolls and animals, all going for a ride. The room looked lived in, as if the child who owned it was only outside playing and would come running back with red cheeks to tell her dolls about her adventures. I went over and looked out of the window.

“So is your bedroom on this side of the house?” Belinda asked.

“No. After Jonquil died Tony decided he didn’t want this view any longer. It looks down on the cliff where she fell. So our bedroom is at the far end of the corridor where your rooms are.”

“Oh. I see,” Belinda said. “He didn’t actually see her fall, did he?”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Rose said. There was something in her face that I couldn’t read. A wariness. Almost a fear as if she was treading on dangerous ground.

“Why, there you are, Mrs. Summers.” The voice in the doorway made us jump. Rose sprang around guiltily as Mrs. Mannering stood, arms folded across her chest, disapproval written all over her face. “I hope the young ladies are satisfied with the rooms I have prepared for them.”

“We certainly are,” I said. “Mrs. Summers wanted to show us the view from this part of the house.”

“Indeed.”

“Jonquil must have loved this room when she was growing up,” Belinda said.

“Miss Jonquil loved everything. She loved life. ‘I can’t wait to be up and out there, Manny,’ she’d say to me every morning when I came to brush her hair. One hundred strokes every day. She had hair like spun gold, didn’t she? I used to tell her she was Rapunzel and one day her hair would be so long that she could lower it from her window. But do you know what she said? She said, ‘I think it might hurt if a prince climbed up it, don’t you?’ Such a witty child, always.”

“I think we’ve seen all we need to,” Rose interrupted. “Is coffee ready?”

“That was why I came to find you, madam,” Mrs. Mannering said. “Coffee is served in the morning room.”

As we headed along the hallway I heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock behind us. Mrs. Mannering followed us down the stairs. Just as we reached the bottom of the stairs the front door opened, sending in a great blast of wind and swirling leaves. The man who stood framed against the light was tall, broad shouldered with striking blond hair and a tanned face. Cornwall seems to be full of handsome men, I thought.