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his grave—if he resided in such a commonplace thing, naturally—if he thought I’d broken Rule Six.”
    “‘Always supply any goods which are paid for in advance,’” I quoted.
    “‘After all, you can always steal them again if necessary,’” she finished.
    I didn’t like it. But I didn’t see I had any choice in the matter. “Hmph,” I said as I crossed my arms and stared out the window.
    ***
    A carriage waited for us at Ashford; it was an elegant equipage with a matched pair of bays. The crest on the door was draped in black velvet, and the coachman and footman both wore a mourning band around their sleeves. Between the efforts of the two of them, our trunks were loaded and we were away before the train pulled out of the station.
    “You’ve never been to Claremont, have you?” Abigail asked me after we had been through a small village and were traveling down a county road.
    She knew very well I hadn’t; I’d not been invited. In point of fact, I’d not been invited this time, but I felt it was not the proper moment to point this lapse out to her.
    “Never,” I said. “I’m sure it’s very grand. Sir Eli is the owner of WFG, is he not?”
    Abigail made no reply, as at that moment the carriage turned into a drive. Soon we reached tall black iron gates in a brick wall, which must have been twenty feet high. I could see iron spikes all along the top of it. The gatekeeper came out of a small cottage just inside the wall, and if I was not mistaken, he carried pistols under his coat. He opened the gate with a massive key and waved the carriage inside. I glanced back when we were through to see him closing and locking the gates behind us.
    I swallowed around a sudden lump in my throat. I felt we were entering a prison instead of an elegant county estate, and I have no love of prisons. The few I have been forced to enter were not among my fondest memories.
    The carriage proceeded up a winding drive lined on either side with enormous oaks. They loomed so close, that again I felt a sense of being closed in and trapped. The sight of several gamekeepers with gigantic drooling hounds on thick leather leashes did not improve our surroundings.
    Abigail, with her uncanny sense of my feelings, reached over and clasped my gloved hand in her own, her fingers entwined with mine.
    “There, there, old thing. It won’t be bad, I promise. We’ll be out of the trees and at the house in a bit.”
    “How much property does Sir Eli have here?” I asked to take my mind off my emotions.
    “Oh, a couple of thousand acres at Claremont, and lord knows how much more. His company is growing at a vast rate, I understand, and he has far too much money to appreciate any of it. Still, he doesn’t remind one he’s rich, and that’s a plus in my book.” She released my hand, for at that moment we escaped from those crowding trees. The carriage stopped in the crushed stone drive before a massive house of four stories, with higher towers at either corner.
    “The house is Elizabethan, I believe.” Abigail was gathering her things. “Though the Hopkins didn’t own it then—they’ve only been in residence for about a hundred years. Come along, Simon, don’t dawdle.”
    I got out, nearly tripping on the last step but recovering my balance with my usual grace. I turned to take her hand but a footman was there before me, dressed in depressing grey livery with the inevitable black band around his sleeve.
    “Lady Abigail, how good to see you!” called a cheerful voice from the open door.
    A tall man stood just inside the open doorway. As we approached, Abigail on my arm, I could see from his attire he must be the butler, though he looked less like one than many I’d seen. From his stocky figure and bulging biceps, clearly visible beneath his jacket, not to mention his head shaved to the bone, he looked like nothing more than a pugilist disguised as a servant, and a deadly one at that.
    I was wrong, I soon discovered; he was not