“I’d better be going,” Cleo said regretfully. “I wish I could stay and help.” She hugged Lucy. “I’ll just get my bag. Oh and for God’s sake be careful, okay? Lock all the doors and the windows, and check in with me every hour—”

“Cleo,” Lucy said. “I’m on holiday, not in prison.” She relented, seeing Cleo’s stubborn, anxious face. “Of course I’ll be careful,” she said, “but I’m not going to overreact. Besides, Geoff will be on guard.”

After Cleo had gone and Johnny and Finn had disappeared down the valley, Lucy opened up the terrace doors and sat outside, a notepad on the table in front of her, alongside the biography of Robert Catesby. She also wanted to note down the details of her conversation with Hazel before she forgot it, just in case there was anything relevant in that as well. The sun felt violently hot and it was sweltering even beneath the shade of the umbrella and she found it hard to concentrate as she read through the pages on Catesby’s birth and early life in Northamptonshire. She thought of the lake with its golden grains of sand and cool waters. It was almost unbearably tempting to go down there for a paddle, but as Johnny and Finn would be working she didn’t want to get in the way. Instead she decided to take a break and go and fetch the book about Lyveden New Bield. Perhaps she could find somewhere cool to curl up with it for a change of reading. Finn had asked her to make a note of anything to do with Thomas Tresham’s connections to the Catesby family and anything about the design of his Northamptonshire garden that struck her as having any connection to Knightstone. She thought that would keep her busy for a while.

She locked the barn carefully and walked back up to the cottage, keeping in the shade of the tall poplars that sheltered the path. In her field, Clarabelle the donkey was also standing in the shadow of a large oak tree, swishing her tail and ears to keep the flies away. It was so humid now that Lucy was exhausted by the time she reached the top of the slope and the cottage, which she found infuriating. For a while she’d been able to forget about her illness but now, as she paused to cool down and draw breath, the sense of dissatisfaction rushed in to fill her; she hated this weakness and the panic it brought with it, the fear of what she could do with her life now, the sense of hopelessness.

Pushing all the negative thoughts to the back of her mind, she got the key out of the box and went into Gunpowder Cottage. The house felt unnaturally still but perhaps that was because all of her senses were on alert, expecting...what? Ghosts? Intruders? Both? Shaking her head she made her way along the corridor to Verity’s study, which Finn had commandeered for the duration of the dig. The book about Lyveden New Bield and the Tresham family was on the shelf where he had told her to look. It was fortunate he had given her instructions on where to find it because the rest of the room was incredibly untidy with maps, drawings, notes and papers scattered all over the place. Lucy was surprised; she would have had Finn down as a tidy person but then, she thought, maybe she didn’t know him as well as she felt she did.