I wondered why she wanted to boost the numbers, since it was already going to be expensive to feed that many guests. Was there a requisite amount of guests needed at a house party? But she had already gone on ahead, out of the ballroom, down the hall and back to the stairs, while hurling out a commentary as she passed. “M’husband’s study and the land office on your right. And servants’ quarters through that door. Kitchen, laundry, all that kind of thing. Haven’t seen a servant in hours. Hope the police haven’t arrested them or scared them all off.”

Then she set off up the stairs at a lively clip.

“Where did your things go? I wonder. Did someone take them up for you?”

“I expect my maid was shown where to put them.”

She turned back. “I’m so glad you brought a maid with you. Of course you would. Of course. Well, she’ll be jolly useful. She can help the female guests with their attire. I don’t suppose they’ll all think of bringing maids with them. Of course they won’t. I don’t have a personal maid any longer. Had to let her go. It’s not as if I need help getting dressed and Martha handles the washing and cleaning admirably. So here we are.”

We had gone along a main corridor, lined with family portraits, hunting scenes, with old china vases adorning the deep windowsills. I saw that this must have been the original manor house and that wings had been added on either side to make an E shape. The walls were also oak paneled with all kinds of nooks and crannies. At the moment I observed this, Lady Hawse-Gorzley said, as if reading my mind, “Perfect place to play sardines, don’t you think? I’m hoping for some splendid game nights.”

She turned in to one of the side wings now and paused outside a door. “I’ve put you in here. Not quite as big as the main bedrooms but should be all right. We’re camping in this hallway ourselves for the duration. Given over our bedroom to guests, y’know.”

Then she flung open the door. I was expecting to see a spartan room like the ones we had at school. Instead it was a pretty room, little and old-fashioned with roses on the eiderdown, a matching dressing table skirt and curtains, a white wardrobe, a white chest of drawers and a fireplace waiting to be lit.

“It’s charming,” I said.

“Used to be my older daughter’s,” she said. “She’s married now. Lives on the Continent. Can’t drag her back to England for love or money. Will it do, do you think?”

“Absolutely. It’s lovely,” I said. “Much nicer than my room at home.”

“Is it, by George?” She looked pleased. “Oh, and I see your maid has unpacked your stuff. Dashed efficient girl, is she? French?”

“No, she’s English,” I said, not wanting to reveal Queenie’s normal lack of efficiency or that I’d probably find she’d hung up my stockings and shoved my ball dress into a drawer.