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awaking Rory even if it was only to chaperone each other. I pulled the door to and locked it. It was only then that I noticed a faint yellow light cutting across the darkness away to my right, through the maze of passages that led to the kitchen. I had a sudden idea of what might be transpiring. I crept quietly, not towards the kitchen, but to the nearby larder. The door was ajar and, as I looked in holding the candle high above my head, I could clearly see our supplies had been disturbed. But was the intruder still present? It was at this precise moment I became aware of breathing behind me. I grabbed the nearest object that I could use as a weapon.
    ‘Do you think it is quite wise of you to investigate alone?’
    The voice was right at my ear. I shrieked and dropped the candle. Mr Fitzroy retrieved it before the light was extinguished and had the pleasure of the sight of me in my very thick, tartan (a nod to our venue) dressing gown with a large dried sausage raised above my head in a threatening manner. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
    ‘I assure you, Euphemia, I am not your intruder. I came only in search of warm milk, but I fear my culinary skills are lacking. Perhaps you would be so good as to make me some?’
    I lowered my sausage cautiously. ‘But the intruder …’
    Mr Fitzroy took the sausage from my slackened grasp.
    ‘From the state of your pantry I would conclude they were long gone.’ He paused. ‘My milk?’
    ‘Of course, sir,’ I said shakily. I followed him back through to the kitchen. He sat at the table and observed me. I managed to locate the milk after only two unsuccessful attempts. I filled a small pan and took it across to the range. I let out a sigh of relief when I realised it was still warm. I would have had no idea how to relight it. I was acutely aware of Mr Fitzroy’s gaze following me.
    ‘I won’t be a moment, sir,’ I said.
    ‘There is no rush. It always takes time to accustom oneself to new surroundings or even new tasks.’
    My hand shook slightly as I stirred the milk in the pan. He could not possibly know I had never done this before. He saw only a servant – and all servants must be able to do this for themselves. All servants who were raised in the usual way, that is. ‘Did you not hear the door banging, sir?’ I asked in an attempt to divert his attention.
    ‘I did,’ said Mr Fitzroy unexpectedly. ‘I was interested to see who would come down to close it.’
    I poured hot milk over my fingers as I transferred it to a cup. ‘You did not think to do it yourself?’ I asked a little too sharply.
    ‘Hardly my place,’ said Mr Fitzroy. He rose and came over to me. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I appreciate your efforts, Euphemia, but you need to be more careful.’ The dimly lit kitchen was not helping allay my misgivings, but to my ears his tone was quite unlike that of the meek and lost young gentleman who had arrived at our door without a valet.
    ‘Careful, sir?’ I asked boldly.
    ‘That you don’t scald yourself, my dear.’ His fingers brushed mine as he took the cup from my hands. ‘I advise you to take more care.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ I demanded, but he was already gone into the darkness seemingly needing no light to find his way around an unfamiliar house. I picked up my candle and bolted back to my room. I shoved a chair under the handle of the door, but it was a long time before I fell asleep.

The Glorious Twelfth.
    I awoke as a single, tiny shaft of sunlight pierced the thinnest part of the elderly curtains and broke upon my pillow. ‘Wouldn’t you know it?’ I said to Merry as I stretched. ‘Fine weather – just as Lord Richard ordered.’
    There was no answer. ‘C’mon,’ I said throwing back the covers. ‘We’ve got work to do.’
    It was only when I swung my feet out of bed that I noticed the chair was no longer under the door handle. I rushed to the windows and tore back the curtains. Light flooded the room revealing