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followed him up the creaking stairs and down a dim corridor. They ascended another, more modest flight of stairs to the third floor and wove through a labyrinth of turns, finally stopping in the hallway, whereupon Mr. Godfrey took out his massive keyring, unlocked a door, and opened it for her.
    “Your quarters, ma’am. Would you care for supper?”
    “Oh, yes, thank you. I’m famished.”
    The chamber had a thick Persian carpet, a canopied bed, and a fine Renaissance plastered ceiling. A low fire already burned in the hearth as though someone had been expecting her. As Mr. Godfrey moved about the chamber lighting the candles for her, a hulking Elizabethan wardrobe emerged from the gloom. She glanced at it, then looked at the butler again, unable to resist her curiosity.
    “Mr. Godfrey, has Lady Glenwood gone to the Grotto?” she asked innocently.
    Lighting the pair of spidery candelabra over the mantel, he glanced over his shoulder at her in wary surprise. “Why, yes, miss, some time ago.”
    “Is she with Lord Lucien there?”
    “I imagine so.”
    She gave him a winning smile. “May I go there, too?”
    “My humblest apologies, miss, but I’m afraid it is not possible.”
    She dropped her gaze, unsurprised by his refusal, but she had always been a persistent creature. “Why not?” she asked brightly.
    “It would displease the master. The, er, guest list is highly exclusive.”
    “I see. Then will you send for Lady Glenwood to come to me?”
    “I will try, but his lordship’s guests generally do not wish to be disturbed in the Grotto.”
    “Why is that?”
    “I do not know,” he said blandly.
    Alice gave him a wry smile, for he really was the best sort of butler, discreet and loyal to his master. “Thank you, Mr. Godfrey.”
    Relief darted over his lined face. “Very good, miss. One of the staff shall return shortly with your supper and wine. Here is the bellpull if you require anything else in the meantime. Good evening.” He bowed out, pulling the door shut.
    When he had gone,
Alice took a turn around the room, exploring its shadowy regions. What a curious place! she mused. Her weariness from the day’s travel fell away in youthful curiosity. Furtively padding over to the great wardrobe, she undid the latch with a careful twist. The wooden door creaked loudly in the stillness when she pulled it open. Peeking inside, she found a single piece of clothing hung there. Unsure what it was, she reached out and touched the coarse brown wool, puzzling over it; then curiosity got the best of her. She pulled the shapeless garment out and held it up before the fire, examining it.
    It was a domino, a robe like a monk or medieval friar would have worn, only quite new and clean. It had wide voluminous sleeves and a large hood that hung down the back. A length of cording cinched the waist. She suddenly heard a burst of laughter as a few people passed in the hallway beyond her door. Aha, not all the guests had vanished, she thought. Hearing the voices pass by, she hurried over to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out. Several figures wearing long, hooded robes like the one in the wardrobe glided by. When they had disappeared down the dim hallway, she closed the door again silently, gnawing her lip in thought. So, that’s what the robe is for. Apparently, Lord Lucien’s soiree was some kind of costume ball. It was late October, after all, and nearly Hallowe’en. A bit of a sulk passed over her face to think that, as usual, she had to miss out while Caro got to have all the fun.
    With a huff at the unfairness of it, she changed out of her carriage dress and slipped on her comfortable morning gown from earlier. Then she took down her hair and brushed it out. The maid soon came with her supper tray, and Alice sat down to a feast of almond soup and warm bread, a fillet of beef with mushrooms, and an apricot pudding for dessert, the lot washed down with an excellent glass of burgundy. Later she reclined lazily on