‘Thank you, Mrs Baxter.’ Ann turned away, aware the housekeeper was still standing behind her. She had taken to doing that, trying to eavesdrop. Ann shot her a stern look. ‘That will be all.’

Ann cut the cake and began to pour the tea.

‘Aunt Euphemia, I presume you got my telegram?’

The older lady swivelled round, the taffeta of her black gown rustling. She had clearly not heard the question.

‘Ann,’ she said, sitting up in her chair. ‘Where is my nephew?’

The delicate china cup Ann had been placing on its saucer clattered down, spilling some tea. ‘What do you mean by that, Aunt Euphemia?’ She raised her voice. ‘Did you not receive my telegram? It was sent on Monday afternoon.’

Lady Cruickshank glared at her. ‘I left Kirkmichael House on Monday after luncheon on hearing about the accident. Of course I had to be with Caroline in Tayport. My daughter was distraught and I had to be at her side. She is perfectly fine now, her confinement is still some three months hence, but she was anxious and I ordered bed rest until she is calmer. I shall return there tonight once I have done this dreadful thing I must do. Which is why I need Robert. Will he be back soon?’

Ann leant back against the chair, aghast.

‘What ails you, child? Speak!’

Ann took a deep breath and sat up straight. ‘Aunt Euphemia, I had understood you were here as a result of the telegram I sent you asking if Robert was indeed on time for his usual train from Ladybank on Sunday evening, after his afternoon visit to Kirkmichael House. He had indicated you were unwell.’ She paused. Aunt Euphemia’s expression was inscrutable. ‘It seems now that you never received the message, for, if you had, you would be aware why I am in shock. Robert is – we must presume – dead.’ Ann’s voice was raised. ‘He was, again we surmise, on that train and we know no one can have survived.’ She pressed her lips tight together. ‘There, now you have it.’

Lady Cruickshank tilted her head to one side and swivelled in her chair to face Ann. ‘First of all, I am in full health and cannot imagine why Robert thought otherwise. Also, I am unable to recall precisely when Robert left on Sunday, but I feel sure it was not long after luncheon. I had some letters to write so we said our adieux directly after leaving the dining room. I believe his custom was to walk round the estate before taking an afternoon train back to Dundee. I am afraid I cannot help you on his precise timing, but I am sure he was not on that ill-fated train. Perhaps he had to travel to Edinburgh for some business and has been unable to contact you.’