‘May I take your coat, Madame?’

Relieving herself of her very best coat, which now seemed shabby in these surroundings, Mags walked towards the chair that the butler had indicated she should sit on. But as she heard the door close behind him, she changed her mind. Feeling too restless to sit down, she walked towards the window and gazed out. From here she could feel as if she was in the former house, as the view was the same one she’d had from the dining room when she’d visited in the past.

A shudder shook her body, but she didn’t give in to the memories that assailed her. She had to stay strong, to face whatever was coming her way, for it was certain Harold was leading some sort of double life. The distress the butler had shown confirmed the reasons that had driven her down to London unannounced.

The sound of the front door opening drew her attention. Seeing who was leaving, Mags drew in a deep breath. Susan! The maid Flors had warned her about was hurrying out of the house and down the steps, whilst pulling on a coat that was far superior to any that a maid would expect to possess.

The sight seemed to confirm all that Mags had suspected. Her body folded. Reaching out, she held on to the handle of the window and, with an extreme effort, regained control. Preferring now to sit, she crossed over to the fireplace and sat down in an armchair that accepted her as if it were an embracing pair of arms; but she didn’t feel comforted, only apprehension about what was to come.

A few minutes passed before the door opened and Harold, looking cross and agitated, stood glaring at her. She refused to cringe under his gaze.

‘What is the meaning of this? How dare you come down here unannounced?’

‘Good afternoon, Harold. I’m sorry, but, as your fiancée, I didn’t know I had to warn you of my visit.’

‘Well, y – you . . . of course you should have. It is rude in the extreme to land upon me so unexpectedly, and . . . well, to spoil my surprise about the progress of the house, as you have done.’

Mags stood. ‘Oh, I’m surprised all right. No need to worry on that score.’

Harold looked taken aback. He stared at her as if she was an alien being. ‘What is the matter with you? You’re different. You seem to be spoiling for a fight or something.’

‘No, not a fight. Just seeking the truth – and I have that now. I’m leaving. And this is goodbye, Harold. Our wedding is off. Now, where is the bell hidden in this palace of a place? Or would you please summon your butler. Ha, fancy . . . you having a butler; but then your maid has been elevated to a much higher place than simply opening the door to guests, hasn’t she?’

‘What are you talking about? You’re mad. You’re having some sort of a breakdown or something. Sit down at once and tell me what this is all about.’