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Julia, whose only previous experience of reservations was the kind one made at The Ritz. T can't believe it,' she said. 'What does Mrs Ormondroyd make of it?' The powerfully-built, raisin-faced housekeeper at
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    Mullions was in a permanent state of outrage as it was.
    'Big Horn's causing havoc,' sniffed Tally. 'Mrs Ormondroyd put his prayer flag in to wash with a red jumper and it came out streaked like a sunset. He was furious, in a silent sort of way. And now he's trying to build something called a sweat lodge in the rose garden. Mr Peters is not amused.'
    The sour old butler/gardener had never been amused the entire time Jane had known him. Neither, come to that, had Mrs Ormondroyd. Unsure what to say or do in the face of such disaster, Jane ordered two more glasses of wine, and another bowl of peanuts.
    'Can't Piers do anything?' she asked.
    Tally sighed so heavily the top layer of peanuts rolled on to the table. 'Gone AWOL,' she groaned. 'No one at Eton has seen him for ages. Apparently he's—'
    'Joined a gang of environmental protesters?' Jane leapt in as the photograph of the crusty clicked into place in her head. However unbelievable it seemed, it was only half as unbelievable as the Julia story.
    'How on earth do you know that?' gasped Tally, shocked out of her misery to look quite her old self.
    Jane explained about spotting his picture in the paper. 'Nick was furious,' she added.
    A wintry smile crossed Tally's strained features. 'That makes me feel better at least,' she said ruefully. 'Piers was last heard of a hundred feet beneath a runway at Stansted, glorying in the name of Muddy Fox. He seems to be rather notorious. Been arrested at least twice, apparently,' she sighed. 'Still, he's not the first of the family to do that. My great-great-great-grandfather was thrown into jail three times for running up gambling debts. By my great-great-great-grandmother, apparently.'
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    They lapsed into silence. It struck Jane that the conversation was getting surreal. Two glasses of wine on an empty stomach plus Tally's mad family history was a potent brew - even without the week she'd had.
    'Never mind,' she said eventually. 'Look on the bright side. If Piers goes on making headlines like this he'll get his own chat show. Then you'll really be able to put Mullions back to rights.'
    But instead of cheering up, Tally's face fell even further. She took a deep swig from her glass and coughed violently.
    'Now I have to tell you the worst thing of all,' she stuttered, after Jane had banged her on the back and her eyes had stopped streaming. Jane looked at her apprehensively. Short of Mrs Ormondroyd and Mr Peters opening a Tantric sex workshop, it was difficult to imagine what that might be. 'Mummy wants to sell Mullions.' Tally's voice was as tight and dry as her face.
    'Nof Jane gasped. This really was a disaster. Nick at his most scathing and Champagne D'Vyne at her worst paled by comparison. ' Why?
    'To pay for her travels. It's her right, she inherited the house in Daddy's will. And she can do what she likes with it - there's no title to hand down anymore since the Ninth Earl, my grandfather, lost it on a hen race in 1920.' Tally paused and swallowed. 'Mummy says the place is an old wreck and we'd be best advised to get shot of it while it is still worth something. She s-s-s-says,' Tally gasped, her self-control deserting her, 'that she suddenly realised she'd spent her entire life [gulp] perpetuating [sniff] an outmoded feudal system.' Tally clapped her bony hand to her mouth as the tears spilled down her long, thin cheeks.
    'Well, she took a long time to work that out,' said Jane. 'Did she never get any clues from the fact she lived in a
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    stately home with servants' bells and a stable block?'
    Tally said nothing. Both red hands were covering her face now. With a twinge, Jane saw the signet ring with the Venery family crest shining dull and gold on Tally's little finger.
    'But you've had that place for four hundred