The Captain's Mysterious Lady. Mary Nichols

Her cottager hat was tied on with a ribbon beneath her chin. ‘I am ready,’ she said.

      They set off on foot, crossing the drawbridge and turning away from the drive and the main entrance to go across a green sward and taking a path through a small copse. ‘The trees were planted by one of my ancestors to protect the Manor from the prevailing east wind,’ she told him. ‘It can go right through you in the winter.’

      ‘That I can imagine,’ he said with a laugh. ‘There is very little between here and the Arctic to stop it.’

      ‘Perhaps that is why fen folk are so hardy,’ she said. ‘This path leads to a back entrance to the grounds, which is where the Lodge stands. See, there it is.’ They had come out of the trees and she pointed to a squat red-brick house, two storeys high, with a door in the centre of the façade and windows either side. It was neatly thatched. Beyond it were tall gates set in the wall surrounding the estate, on the other side of which was a lane. ‘It guards the Manor, just as the tower guards it on the other side. I am sure it was intended to withstand a siege.’