I feel my mood lighten a little, as it always does when coming home. I might have to graciously accept condolences from people I hardly know for several hours to come, but later, when the last guests have been helped into their carriages, I can, here, be myself.

Are you willing to listen to me yet, Lilith?

I feel my spine tingle as the same spirit I heard in the graveyard whispers in my ear once more. I am shocked. Shaken. No spirit has ever spoken to me in this way, without being called. I struggle to retain my composure. I will have to talk to this restless soul, that is certain. But not now, not here. My family needs me now. My non-witch family.

A young footman opens the door of the carriage and Withers, broad shouldered and dependable as ever, appears to offer his assistance to Lady Annabel. Freddie, enlivened no doubt by the prospect of a drink, has already sprung from the other side of the carriage and hurried round to help his mother.

“All right, Withers,” he says, with jarring eagerness, “you can leave Lady Annabel to me. Come along now, Mama. Let’s get you a nice glass of wine, shall we?”

“Don’t be silly, Freddie, you know I never drink wine. Withers, is everything ready?”

“All just as you instructed, Lady Annabel.”

“The flowers … they must be sprayed regularly. This dreadful heat…”

“I’ve put William to the task, my lady.”

The dowager duchess halts her faltering forward progress and stares at Withers. For a moment she looks utterly lost.

“William?” she repeats in a small voice. “Do you know, I don’t seem able to picture his face?”

I hurry to her side. “William Radley, Mama. The second footman, you remember?”

“Oh, yes. Yes of course. Fancy my forgetting. William Radley. How silly of me.”

“You are exhausted, Mama,” I say, taking her arm.

“And thirsty, shouldn’t wonder,” puts in Freddie.

I cast him a look that goes unnoticed as the two of us bear our mother up the steps and into the coolness of the house. Freddie is ready enough to offer help when it suits his purposes. It is not the sort of help I can ever allow myself to rely upon. There will always be Freddie’s own needs behind any offer of assistance. I would be a fool to forget it.

Mama need not have worried; Mrs. Jessop and Withers have carried out her wishes to the letter. The hallway of Number One Fitzroy Square was built to impress, and impress it does. The careful Art Nouveau decor that my mother has so successfully embraced seems only enhanced by the vases of cream aromatic lilies, tied with black satin bows, which have been placed at considered random throughout. I find their perfume in the sultry heat almost overpowering and am aware of a burgeoning headache behind my eyes. Three immaculately turned-out servants hold trays bearing tall glasses.