The polished floor of the upper hall was cold on her barefeet, but Alessia knew if she returned to her room to fetch her slippers then what little courage she had would desert her.

Gas lamps flickered on the walls warming her as she descended the grand stairs to the main hall. The scream had come from the East wing of the house, so very close to her bedroom. Going through the music room would be the quickest route.

The music room was warm and smelt still of the cigars and perfume from Sir Michels guest a couple of days ago. She had been forced by her husband to play the piano for them, their cigar smoke still clung to the dress she had worn that night.

Reaching the glass paned doors that led to the outer terrace she let in the fragrant night air that temporarily at least swept away the other odours.