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Which was why Bernie was so surprised that her twin hadn’t just come out and said what she was thinking. It was what she’d always done in the past. The fact that she’d burst into tears instead showed just how troubled she was.

Bernice opened her mouth to say something more, but fortunately or no, the bell for dinner rang.

‘Damnation.’ Beatrix picked up the mirror again and regarded her red eyes critically. Bernie couldn’t help laughing at her twin’s disgruntled expression as she stood up. ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’ she intoned, resting the back of her hand on her forehead theatrically.

In answer, Beatrix snorted and stuck out her tongue, and all of a sudden, the strange mood was lifted. Climbing off the bed, she pulled a quick brush through her hair and had a sudden thought. ‘Did you see Billy when you came in?’

Bernie thought for a second, then shook her head. ‘Why, is there a problem?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bea responded thoughtfully. ‘He’s been missing all day, which is completely unlike him, and I can’t help feeling a little worried. You know what he’s like when he gets one of his totty-headed ideas.’

Bernie frowned, pushing open the bedchamber door. ‘Have you told Papa?’

‘And Aunt Charlotte. They were both in the drawing room when I questioned Peggy. Apparently she and Mrs Williams haven’t seen him either.’ Following Bernie onto the landing, Bea added, ‘I know he can look after himself - goodness knows, he’s proved that, but…’ She let the sentence peter out as they started down the stairs.

‘If he’s not back by dark, I’ve no doubt Papa will send Albert to look for him,’ Bernice retorted firmly as they reached the hall. ‘But I’m certain he’s fine. Likely he’ll turn up ravenous well before then.’

Beatrix had no idea what on earth had possessed her to behave like such a goose when she and Bernie got into their bedchamber. Bursting into tears for pity’s sake. Seriously, it was enough to have her worried she was turning into a spoony. God forbid that she should turn into such a lovesick simpleton. In truth, Bernie’s blunt response to her foolish display was exactly the right one.

The problem was, when she looked at Robert Noon sitting across the table, she was flooded with the same unsettling emotions she’d experienced in his presence earlier.

Determinedly she allowed her eyes to travel round the table. The conversation had been kept purposely light, with Robert providing a wide array of humorous anecdotes about growing up in Australia. Of course, the questions came thick and fast, but the Australian fielded them with a self-depreciating humour that had undoubtedly contributed to him becoming a successful solicitor in his own right. It was also clear that while he practised law under his father’s umbrella, he’d unquestionably forged his own path.

Throughout dinner, nothing was mentioned about his purpose for coming, but it was clear that Henry Shackleford, at least, had not forgotten, and the moment the dessert course was finished, the former Chief Inspector firmly suggested they take their coffee into the drawing room while they listened to the real reason Rob Noon had travelled halfway across the world to see them.

CHAPTER 6

‘Twelve months ago, a close friend of mine named Matthew Callahan unexpectedly died. It happened very quickly, and unfortunately I was in Adelaide at the time. The telegram I received informed me that he’d succumbed to a fever but very little else…’ Rob paused, and it was clear his friend’s death had affected him deeply.

‘Although Matt’s death was devastating, my main concern was his nine-year-old son, Thomas, who’d been left an orphan as a result.’

‘Was there no wife? Mother?’ Charlotte asked.

Rob sighed and shook his head. ‘Tom’s mother died in the birthing of him, and he had no other family aside from me, his godfather. On hearing the news, I immediately sent a telegram to my parents informing them that I was on my way back and asking them to take Tom into their home. However, unfortunately, by the time the telegram reached them, Matt had already been dead nearly three days. I don’t wish to be gruesome, but as you can imagine, the custom in Australia is to bury the dead as soon as possible due to the often excessively hot weather, especially in the summer…

‘Taking the train, I expected to be back in Melbourne by the following morning...’ He paused again, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. When he continued, his voice was clipped, angry. ‘Unfortunately, by the time my mother and father arrived at Matt’s home, Thomas was gone. Extensive enquiries led me to a well-meaning church committee attached to an English emigration society. When I enquired at the society’s Melbourne office, I was told that Tom was already on his way to England where he'd be taken care of while being prepared for domestic employment in this country…’ Rob paused, fumbling for a handkerchief before adding in an anguished whisper, ‘I missed him by two days. Two days.’

The Shacklefords, who’d heard too many similar stories of lost children, sat in collective, stunned silence.

Henry, who’d never believed in coincidences, was the first to speak. ‘So, you’re here to track down your young godson and take him home.’ Rob nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak.

‘Do you have an address for the charity Tom was being taken to?’

‘I…’ Rob was stopped by a sudden commotion. Doors slamming, Aggie barking, the sound of running footsteps. As one, the room’s occupants looked towards the door, which slammed open seconds later to reveal a distraught Billy.

The look on the boy’s face had both Henry and Rhys climbing to their feet. Henry wasted no time on a greeting, his voice clipped and succinct. ‘What’s happened, lad?’

‘I found her,’ Billy almost sobbed, ‘I found Muriel Pemberton. She was in Bristol, and now she’s dead.’

* * *

‘What the bloody ‘ell are you tangled up in, Billy Wiggins?’ Gladys hardly broke stride as she marched over to the figure slumped in the chair. Digging around in her skirts, she pulled out a small, wicked-looking sliver of mirror which she held over Muriel Pemberton’s mouth. After a few moments, she lifted it away and looked at it, before shaking her head.

‘Dead as a bloody door nail. By the look of ‘er I’d say she drowned in ‘er own blood. Nasty.’ She turned to Billy, who was staring at the piece of mirror in horrified fascination, wondering what else the barmaid used it for. ‘Is this the baggage you bin lookin’ fer?’ Gladys asked, shoving the sliver back into the depths of her skirt. Ridiculously, Billy found himself speculating whether she’d ever sliced her finger off when looking for a handkerchief.

‘Did she give you wot she took afore she snuffed it?’ Gladys continued when he didn’t answer. Raising his eyes from the apparent death trap that was her clothing, Billy swallowed, trying to think. What would happen if he told them everything? He needed to get back to Mr Henry and Miss Charlotte as quick as he could. There was no point in hanging around looking for stuff. Others could do that much better than he could.

But Gladys and Arnold were part of this now, whether he liked it or not. The last thing he wanted was for them to bring the peelers here before Mr Henry had had the chance to search the house.