Mr. Westhall was surprising. He was slightly built with a high forehead and a sensitive face, the face of a poet or an academic rather than a surgeon. She felt none of the power or confidence which had so strongly emanated from Mr. Chandler-Powell. His smile was warmer than those of the women but his hand, despite the warmth of the fire, was cold.

Helena Cressett said, “You must be ready for tea, or perhaps for something stronger. Would you like it here or in your own sitting room? Either way, I’ll take you there now so that you can settle in.” Rhoda said she would prefer to have tea in her room.

They mounted the broad uncarpeted stairs together and passed down a corridor lined with maps and what looked like earlier pictures of the house. Rhoda’s suitcase had been placed outside a door midway down the corridor. Picking it up, Miss Cressett opened the door and stood aside as Rhoda entered, rather, she thought, as a hotelier might briefly indicate the conveniences of a hotel suite, a routine too often undertaken to be more than a duty.

Rhoda saw that the sitting room was both agreeable in its proportions and beautifully furnished, obviously in period furniture. Most of it looked Georgian. There was a mahogany bureau with a desk large enough for comfortable writing. The only modern furniture were the two armchairs before the fireplace and a tall, angled reading lamp beside one of them. To the left of the fire there was a modern television on a stand with a DVD player on a shelf beneath it, an incongruous but presumably necessary addition to a room which was both distinctive and welcoming.

They moved next door. Here was the same elegance, with any suggestion of a sickroom rigorously excluded. Miss Cressett placed Rhoda’s suitcase on a folding stand, then walked over to the window and drew the curtains. She said, “At present it’s too dark to see anything but you’ll be able to in the morning. We’ll meet again then. Now, if you have everything you want, I’ll send up the tea and the menu for breakfast tomorrow. If you prefer to come down rather than have it in your room, dinner is served in the dining room at eight o’clock, but we meet in the library at seven-thirty for a pre-dinner drink. If you’d like to join us, ring my number—all the extensions are on the card by the telephone—and someone will come up to escort you down.” And then she was gone.

But for now Rhoda had seen enough of Cheverell Manor and hadn’t the energy to engage in the to-and-fro of dinner conversation. She would request dinner in her room and have an early night. Gradually she took possession of a room to which, she already knew, she would return in just over two weeks’ time without foreboding or apprehension.

6