Page 89 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

Chloe pulled back, looking around. ‘God, this place,’ she said. ‘And him . . .’ a glance at Magnus. ‘He’s uptight. How do you stand it?’

Magnus’s eyebrows rose further. An achievement in itself.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sammy saw Valerie lower her gaze very quickly, hiding what looked dangerously close to a smirk.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sammy said quickly. ‘She didn’t . . . this wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ll take her to the cottage . . .’

Chloe examined her nails – as if unaware of the atmosphere. ‘Listen to you apologising; you’re still so good Sam.’

The corner of Valerie’s mouth twitched.

Magnus reached for his pocket watch. Click. Open. A brief glance. Click. Closed.

The eyebrows and the pocket watch – well done Chloe, that’s a first.

‘That does not resolve the matter,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’

Beside her, Chloe checked her appearance on her phone’s camera. She snapped it shut. ‘Oh relax . . . I’m not moving in. I just need somewhere to sleep that isn’t a train seat or a man I regret.’

Valerie let out the tiniest sound through her nose. Not quite a laugh, but close enough.

Sammy swallowed. ‘Mr Magnus, her being here . . . it won’t affect anything.’

He pursed his lips. ‘It already has. Your contract stipulates you seek permission for overnight guests.’ His gaze moved pointedly to the suitcase.

Permission for overnight guests. She should have read that contract instead of simply signing her name and handing it back.

‘You have introduced an external element into the operation of the house,’ he said. ‘Relocating it does not remove its impact.’

‘Whatever is that supposed to mean?’ asked Chloe.

‘Not now Chloe,’ whispered Sammy, feeling the excitement of Chloe’s visit dimming.

Magnus favoured Chloe with a withering look, before switching his gaze back to Sammy. ‘You will need to work that out for yourself.’

Sammy drew in a breath, steadied it. ‘I understand,’ she said.

A silence settled over the hallway. Valerie stepped smoothly forward. ‘I’ll make tea,’ she said mildly. ‘Tea’s always helpful after a shock.’ The sympathy in her voice was almost convincing. Almost.

Magnus held Sammy with his gaze. Then, with a single incline of his head, he strode past her. ‘I’ll be in the silver room,’ he said, ‘when you return from escorting your visitor to your cottage.’

Valerie fell into step beside him. As they crossed the hall, she glanced back once at Sammy – not triumphant exactly, but close. Valerie disappeared through the doorway with Magnus.

Chloe grabbed Sammy by both arms. ‘So,’ she said, bright again, ‘frosty welcome but I didn’t come to see either of them. Are we going out, or what?’

Chloe had been at Brambleton Hall less than five minutes and already Sammy had a headache. She suspected Magnus had one too.

She knew where to find him.

Sammy passed the housekeeper’s room – the door was closed. Valerie was almost certainly inside. Today did not feel like the day to resurrect that battle. She carried on towards the silver room. The smell reached Sammy first – polish, sharp enough to catch at the back of her throat.

Silver lined the room from wall to wall. Trays, candlesticks, teapots, serving dishes – all set out in rows, each one shiny to the point of distorting light, throwing back fragmentary reflections of whatever moved in front of it. Magnus, cloth in hand, was working a tray as if it had made a mistake. ‘Miss Jenkins.’

‘Mr Magnus.’

Unhelpfully, she pictured Chloe back at the cottage – case flung open across the bed, clothes already spilling out, music on too loud for the size of the room. Moving things. Making herself at home.