‘He is the only person we know of who wishes me to leave,’ Hester admitted.

‘I know my duty,’ Miss Prudhome announced, ‘it is to protect you.’ Her voice shook again. ‘I know I have not been strong enough. I have shrunk from standing at your side.’

‘It is all so new to you, Maria,’ Hester said, suddenly desperately sorry for the lonely little figure.

Miss Prudhome started. ‘No one ever calls me by my Christian name; my pupils always called me Prudy…’

‘But I am not a pupil,’ Hester said gently. ‘Was it so very difficult and lonely, being a governess?’

‘Yes, but one expects it, you see,’ Maria confided. ‘One is neither one thing nor the other. It was difficult at first, when one was young, to know one’s place, but one soon learns…’

No doubt one does, Hester thought grimly. A few snubs from one’s employers, a few turned shoulders from the upper staff. Yes, one would soon learn one ‘s place.

‘Well, in this house you are my companion and an equal, for I need you very much and I have every confidence that you will help and support me,’ she said bracingly. ‘Now, tomorrow I would like you to wear your best afternoon gown and borrow my Paisley shawl and you must do your utmost to join in the conversation as an equal, which you are.’ She watched the emotions chase across the plain face opposite her and leaned forward to pat Maria’s hand. ‘I am relying on you, Maria. Besides wishing to have your companionship, my reputation depends upon your chaperonage.’

The household had passed a jumpy day and night looking forward to the locksmith’s promised arrival. Hester was conscious of not looking her best as she dressed for Mrs Bunting’s At Home on Wednesday. She chose an afternoon gown of impeccable respectability, added a modest lace fichu and sallied forth with pelisse and umbrella and Maria at her side.

The Rectory was a bustle of feminine chatter by the time she arrived and Hester was grateful that she already knew the Redland ladies and Mrs Piper, as well as their hostess. She greeted her acquaintances, was introduced to the widowed Mrs Griggs and her plain niece Miss Willings and with Maria took an early opportunity to catch Mrs Redland alone.

‘I wonder, ma’am, if I might presume to ask your advice about a sensitive matter?’ She saw immediately it was the correct approach. The matron’s eyes sharpened, but she inclined her head graciously, obviously gratified to be the recipient of such confidence. Hester launched into her carefully prepared speech.

‘… so different from London-I was confident that in such a close and respectable society my age and single status would be compensated for by the kindly attention of my new acquaintance, and of course, by the presence of my dear Miss Prudhome.’ This produced an understanding nod, so Hester forged on. ‘But, ma’am, imagine my discomfort when I discover that my nearest neighbour is a bachelor and one with no established character in the district. And worse, one whose arrival so nearly coincided with my own.’

Mrs Redland’s expression became positively avid. Hester hurried to reassure-and disappoint-her. ‘Not that his lordship has behaved in any way that causes me in the slightest to doubt his gentlemanly instincts.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back; she was as much to blame for that kiss as he and she had no intention of blackening Guy Westrope’s name. But I hear from my staff there has been talk in the village-you can see why I am concerned.’

‘Indeed I can.’ Mrs Redland took Hester’s arm and steered her towards the window seat. ‘No one would think anything of your youth once they had made your acquaintance, my dear, and that of Miss Prudhome here.’ The companion produced a gratified twitter. ‘As you say, the country is a very different matter to the town. But I understand your scruples about the near proximity of a single gentleman to your establishment. Do not concern yourself-with your permission I will confide n the ladies of influence in our little circle. They will watch out for your welfare and at the same time provide you with any additional chaperonage or protection you may require.’

That was all Hester had hoped for and more. With expressions of gratitude, which Mrs Redland accepted with a gracious smile, Hester was setting about greeting old acquaintances and drawing Maria into conversation with new ones when Miss Nugent was shown in.

Hester regarded Sir Lewis’s sister thoughtfully as her hostess brought her across the room to be introduced to the newcomers. Dark hair and large greenish hazel eyes like her brother, average height, a delightful figure and an expression of suffering bravely borne. Hester’s immediate reaction was that this last was somewhat overdone, then she chided herself for a lack of charity. Everyone dealt with grief differently; just because she did not suffer from an excess of sensibility herself, it did not mean that no one else might.

‘How do you do, Miss Lattimer?’ The delicately gloved hand rested in hers for a moment, making Hester feel over-large and clumsy.

‘Miss Nugent. I am so glad to meet you and to have the opportunity of expressing my condolences. I was not acquainted with your father, but I know his loss is much felt hereabouts, and must be a great sadness for his family.’

‘Thank you.’ It was said with a brave sigh and a downward flutter of eyelashes, then Miss Nugent seemed to gather herself. ‘And are you comfortable in the Moon House? For myself I wonder that you should care to live there; I know Lewis would never have sold it to a single lady-he says he wishes you would sell it back-but of course poor Papa was too unwell to consider that sort of thing.’

‘What sort of thing?’ Hester asked.

Miss Nugent waved her hands vaguely. ‘Oh, the local stories, the lights and so on. Ghost stories are all very well, but one hardly wants to live in a haunted house, does one?’

‘Well, no, one does not,’ Hester said as briskly as she could manage. ‘Not that I believe in ghosts and I do not for a moment believe the Moon House to be haunted.’

‘You are so brave!’ Miss Nugent exclaimed in a tone that suggested that she was too polite to say ‘foolhardy’. ‘All I know is that dearest Papa could never find anyone willing to remain in it-not after the first cycle of the moon.’

‘What can you mean-?’ Hester began, only to be interrupted by Annabelle Redland.

‘Sarah darling! Are you telling Miss Lattimer all the dreadful stories about her house? Is she not intrepid?’

‘You were saying something about the phases of the moon?’ Hester persisted.

‘Apparently the manifestations, if that is the right word, are linked to the moon, or so the family story goes. I will have to check the records,’ Sarah said. ‘But perhaps you are not sensitive to those sorts of things and so will not notice?’

Hester would not have admitted noticing anything now, even if a headless horseman had ridden through the kitchen.

‘That must be it,’ she said lightly. ‘I have no sensibility.’

‘You must come to dinner at the Hall,’ Sarah said. ‘Lewis can tell you all the stories.’

‘Thank you,’ Hester responded with every appearance of delight and a sinking feeling at the thought of learning any more disturbing tales. She was finding Miss Nugent far less sympathetic than her charming brother. ‘If you will excuse me, I must just speak to Mrs Piper-’

She broke off as the door opened and Mrs Bunting’s footman announced, ‘Lord Buckland, ma’am.’

He strode into the room, a startling contrast with his height and his breeches and boots amidst the feminine gathering. You must excuse me, Mrs Bunting, but I need to find Miss Lattimer.’

Hester was conscious of every eye in the room turning to her and of a turmoil of emotions pouring through her. Embarrassment at being singled out by Guy, a hard jolt of physical excitement at the sight of him, alarm at what this sudden arrival might portend.

‘Your man Ackland has had a fall,’ he said tersely. ‘Your maid had the sense to run across to my house and seek help. Parrott has sent for the doctor. Will you come?’

‘Yes, of course. Mrs Bunting…’

‘Off you go, my dear,’ her hostess urged. ‘Let me know if there is anything I can do.’

Hester found herself outside the vicarage, her pelisse half- buttoned and Miss Prudhome chattering anxiously at her side. Guy’s curricle with the greys in harness was at the gate, the groom at their heads. ‘Cuttle, see Miss Prudhome safely home, please.’ Guy handed Hester up and with a flick of the reins sent the greys away at a canter from a standing start.

Hester clutched the side of the seat with one hand, her bonnet with the other. ‘How badly hurt is he?’ She was aware, under her anxiety, of the skill with which Guy was handling the team along the twisting lane; the sight of his hands, strong and competent on the reins, was curiously comforting.

‘I do not know. He was conscious, but his right shoulder seemed to be giving him a lot of pain. That’s a long flight of stairs to go down and he fell from halfway.’

‘Do you mean the stairs in the house-?’ Hester broke off as Guy urged the greys round the last bend and they burst out on to the road around the Green. ‘But Jethro isn’t clumsy, how did he fall?’

‘He slipped on something that had been left on the middle step,’ Guy said. ‘Look, that must be the doctor’s gig.’

Hester scrambled down before Guy could reach her and ran up the garden path and through the front door.

The hail was empty save for a broken ewer on the marble and one dead rose. The remains of the bunch were scattered, crushed, down the staircase, marking Jethro’s tumbling fall.

‘These roses have developed a much more dangerous character,’ Guy said quietly behind her. ‘1 want you out of this house now.’

‘I will not go,’ Hester said equally quietly and found herself spun round to face Guy. He held her still, one hand cupping each shoulder.