It was reserved for gentlemen’s after-dinner entertainment, of which there had been little since before the war. Lionel Brigham had contested a few frames there in the days when he had been a frequent visitor to the house and perhaps it was for old times’ sake that he had suggested it as a rendezvous. Most of the mourners still sipping sherry and swapping memories of Sir Henry Maxted in the drawing-room charitably assumed Lady Maxted had slipped away in order to compose herself after the stress and strain of the funeral. This was certainly what George led Ashley and Lydia to believe. ‘Give her ten minutes and she’ll be right as rain,’ he assured them, before heading off in search of some whisky. And he fervently hoped it would be so. But George, of course, had no idea what Brigham wanted to discuss with Winifred in private. Neither did Winifred, though various disturbing possibilities did occur to her as she made her way along the corridor that led to the billiard-room.
