Rosalind shook her head. ‘That was more than two years ago, Hester. I love my husband and I do love Alex, but like a brother. He’s engaged to my sister, unless you’d forgotten.’ She made her way through the clutching fronds of brambles and the tangle of overhanging branches to the front door.

‘I hope he remembers that,’ Hester said darkly. ‘For both your sakes.’

The door opened and Delfosse stood aside, holding a lantern to light their way. Rosalind shuddered. By daylight the old house had seemed forbidding and gloomy; now, in the hours of darkness it felt positively frightening. ‘Thank you, Monsieur,’ she said firmly. ‘We won’t be needing you again this evening.’

He grunted and ambled away, taking the lantern with him, leaving them little choice other than to follow the vanishing path of light. He opened the drawing-room door and walked off without saying a word.

‘I could do with a cup of hot chocolate,’ Hester said gloomily. ‘Maybe it was a mistake to allow Agathe to return to the priest’s house to sleep.’

‘I could hardly ask her to stay with Madame Planche and her awful brother.’ Rosalind walked over to the fireplace and took a spill from the jar on the mantelshelf. ‘At least we have a good blaze to take the chill off the room.’ She held the spill in the flames and lit several candles. ‘I don’t know about you, Hester, but I’m ready for bed.’

‘I’m not staying down here on my own. I’ll come with you.’ Hester snatched up a candlestick. ‘You lead on. I’m not sure I remember the way.’

Rosalind had to rely upon her memory, but everything looked different in the darkness, with deep menacing shadows at the end of long corridors. The wide treads of the staircase creaked with every step, and the galleried landing was uncarpeted so that each footfall echoed off the high ceiling. Their rooms were on the second floor, the larger of which had been allocated to Rosalind.

As she entered her bedchamber Rosalind could hear waves breaking on the distant shore, but when she went to look out of the window she was met by a wall of darkness. Sleet hurled itself against the panes, tapping and scratching like sharp fingernails.

‘I’ll say good night, then,’ Hester said reluctantly.

Rosalind shivered despite the fire that blazed up the chimney. ‘Lock the door, Hester. Would you mind sleeping in here tonight? It’s a big bed and I promise not to kick you, if you agree not to snore.’

Next morning they were both up early.

‘I hardly slept a wink,’ Hester said grumpily.

‘Neither did I, because you were snoring.’

‘I don’t snore.’