‘Bring all the luggage in, please, Goodfellow,’ Kate said firmly. ‘Mr Boggis will show you to your accommodation.’ She turned to Arthur. ‘Is Lady Lyndon in the drawing room?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, miss, but Ivy and the nippers have gone to bed.’

‘Children?’ Arabella’s voice rose to a pitch that might have shattered glass. ‘There are children here? How many?’

‘Eight of them, ma’am,’ Arthur said silkily. ‘Eight nippers running around the house, all of them under the age of nine.’ He turned to Goodfellow. ‘You’d best come with me. There’s room above the stables, but don’t get in Warrender’s way. He’s her ladyship’s groom and he’s not too happy about being away from London. Just so you know to watch what you say.’

Goodfellow shrugged and muttered something beneath his breath.

‘We’re definitely leaving first thing tomorrow.’ Arabella leaned on Jenny’s arm. ‘Take me to the drawing room. Do they keep a good cellar here? I need a glass of sherry wine.’

‘Come with us, Mama. I’ll introduce you to Lady Lyndon. I’m sure you’ll both get along really well.’

As they walked slowly towards the drawing room Kate could hear the strains of ‘Home Sweet Home’ being played on a concertina. She opened the door and they hesitated, listening intently while Annie played the last notes. It seemed to Kate it was an omen, but one look at her mother’s face dashed her hopes.

‘What have we come to, Kate? Who is that person?’

‘Mama!’ Kate released her mother’s arm. ‘That was impolite,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t lecture me on manners. I’m tired and I’m in a haunted house with complete strangers.’

Annie sank down on the sofa, clutching her concertina. ‘I’m sorry if my music offends you, ma’am.’

‘It was beautiful,’ Kate said hastily. ‘I’m afraid my mother is overwrought and very tired. It was my papa’s funeral earlier today.’

Lady Lyndon rose to her feet. ‘My dear Mrs Martin, how very sad. Please accept my condolences.’

Arabella drew herself up to her full height, ignoring Lady Lyndon’s outstretched hand. ‘It’s Lady Martin, and we haven’t been introduced, ma’am.’

‘Mama, I think this is not the time to dwell on etiquette. This is Lady Lyndon and the talented musician is Annie Blythe.’ She turned to Lady Lyndon with an apologetic smile. ‘We will be staying here for a while, ma’am. At your son’s invitation, of course.’

If Lady Lyndon was offended by Arabella’s attitude she was too polite to make an issue of it. She smiled and sat down. ‘I assume we are all being threatened by that dreadful fellow in London.’