He opened the safe and she counted it, bill by bill, before she snapped the door close and spun the handle.
“Good,” she said. “I will have a spring clean whilst you are away. I have sent for a man to clean the windows of The Study. They are in a shocking state. And, Gordon, with Trenter and you away, I shall need extra help. I will have a man and his wife here. There is an attic room where they can sleep: is that in order?”
Diana was brisk, business-like, imposingly capable. Gordon realised that she was unconsciously ramming home her indispensability.
Eleanor, coming in to put the room in order, found him in his dressing-gown, asleep before the black ashes of the fire, and her squeal of fear woke him.
“Oh, sir, you gave me such a fright!”
He rose stiffly, blinking at her.
“Did I ...? I’m sorry, Eleanor. Will you send Trenter to me in my room?”
A bad start to a very bad day’s business. He ached from head to foot, until his bath gave him some bodily ease.
“Eleanor says you were asleep before the study fire. When did you come down, Gordon?” Diana asked at breakfast.
“About three o’clock, I think. I remembered work that had to be done.”