The rain had started to lighten, but it was enough to make her hair frizz and skin damp. Caro wrapped her jacket tighter around her shoulders and wished that the sturdy boots Dahlia wore most often had gone with her cocktail dress. In retrospect, while the outfit she’d picked for the evening was perfect for giving her Dahlia’s investigative confidence, it was less ideal for doing the investigating.

‘What did we think about Hugh retrieving the car today?’ Caro asked, as they set out into the rain.

‘Explains where he was all morning, at least,’ Rosalind said. ‘The station is a fair old walk from here.’

‘Interesting that he and Clementine are so in touch, though,’ Posy observed. ‘I mean, he was the one she called to say she was leaving—’

‘Because she needed to borrow a car,’ Rosalind put in.

‘And the only one she’s been in touch with since that call to Marcus on the first night,’ Posy finished. ‘Definitely hints at that connection between them, don’t you think?’

Apparently, Rosalind didn’t want to think about that as she quickened her pace, leaving the others to catch up.

They took the long and the winding path around the back of the house from the side door, past the stables and the West Lawn, where the stalls were set up, until they joined the main driveway by the fountain. The same way Clementine had driven out the previous afternoon, Caro realised. They weren’t too worried about anyone looking out for them, either from the big house or the Gate House. In this weather, Caro could barely see her hand in front of her face through the rain and gloom, and she was grateful for the torches Rosalind had found in the kitchen drawer on their way out. The lights from the windows of the main house wouldn’t reach to the Gate House, but someone might notice if they turned on the ones inside. They didn’t want to be interrupted tonight.

The Gate House stood, as one might expect, by the huge iron gates that formed the entrance to Aldermere Hall. Beside it, the river that edged the western side of the property curled around. The far bank was covered with the same alder trees that gave the house half its name, while from here the river became more of a sluggish stream clogged with reeds – the mere that provided the other half.

If this was one of Lettice’s books, Clementine would be waiting inside, ready to give them the history lesson that explained everything that had been happening at Aldermere that weekend. Caro didn’t think they’d be that lucky, but she’d settle for a decent clue or two.

‘Let’s get inside and have a look around,’ she suggested, reaching for the front door.

‘Wait!’ Posy hissed. ‘What if someone is still here?’

‘You mean, Clementine?’ Caro whispered back. ‘I reckon she’ll be long gone.’