‘Leave? Is that some sort of a joke, Antonia?’ Lady Grylls said sternly. ‘You can’t leave now. I need you here! Goodness. Peverel isn’t any good in a crisis… I don’t think such a thing as “trend-spotting” exists, do you? I am sure he made it up. The way he went on about it last night. Gave me a headache. Too bloody fond of the sound of his own voice.’

‘He promised he’d set his net scouts the task of finding out as much as possible about Corinne -’

‘Ha – net scouts! All bosh, if you ask me, my dear. I wouldn’t believe a word of what Peverel says. He can’t possibly issue commands to anybody simply by sitting in his room and pressing the buttons of his laptop, or whatever that thing’s called – can he?’

‘He probably can, darling,’ Payne said. ‘He can even find you a cheap gardener on the net -’

‘But you must try to be nice to him first,’ Antonia added with a smile.

Lady Grylls suddenly looked fascinated. ‘Goodness – you actually finish each other’s sentences. That doesn’t happen often, you know, that kind of affinity between husband and wife.’

‘How tedious that makes us sound.’

‘Not at all, my dear. A good marriage is not to be sneezed at, especially in this day and age. Yours is clearly one of those that’s been made in heaven. Second marriages are more successful than first ones, or so they say.’

‘We like it.’ Payne poured himself more tea. ‘Maitre Maginot – is that spelled like the line? Who is he anyway?’

‘It’s a she. Some terrible dragon of a woman, by the sound of it. A legal adviser-cum-mentor to Corinne. She seems to have taken over after Mr Lark died. I get the impression she hasn’t been with Corinne that long. She was there as Corinne talked to me, breathing down her neck. I could hear her hissing in the background, prompting. Corinne kept referring to her… Maitre Maginot considered Chalfont Park as a place of refuge une bonne idee. Maitre Maginot doubted whether the death threats were really serious, but wanted to avoid any unnecessary risks. Poor Corinne sounded like a schoolgirl – all timid and halting. Well, I suspect Maitre Maginot of monumental control-freakery. I’ve got to smoke. Where are my cigarettes?’ Lady Grylls peered round the table. ‘It doesn’t help that I am as blind as a bat.’