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‘Rowntree’s isn’t special in this regard,’ she heard Matthew mutter.

Alex put the letter down. ‘I admire them.’

‘Don’t get ideas, Alex, darling,’ Minerva cautioned, looking up from letters she was also sorting out as she breakfasted. ‘Soot and silk do not go together,’ she jested, reaching now for a letter opener to slit apart an envelope. She read for a couple of heartbeats and issued a noise that sounded to Alex like a hen preparing to lay. ‘Gracious me, that Aldwyn girl – the youngest – is marrying a Penshaw. Can you credit that?’

Alex cast a Help me, please look at Matthew, who grinned.

‘Er, Alex, I’ll be meeting with some of the management today and I’ve been offered a tour of the chocolate factory. I wonder if you might care to join me? I am happy to say you’re a close friend of our family . . . if that’s not too presumptuous?’

The cup of tea she had raised to her lips remained untouched even though her mouth felt instantly dry. ‘I would very much enjoy that, thank you, Matthew. Are you sure?’

He shrugged. ‘I cannot imagine Mr Rowntree having a problem with it. Who could possibly mind a beautiful woman in our midst?’

Minerva was seemingly busy reading her letter, but she missed little and looked up to catch his eye and her expression was one of extreme pleasure.

Alex smiled thinly.

‘Of course I would have to check what time you might be free from the hospital,’ he said, surely only for Minerva’s benefit.

Alexandra’s smile of gratitude was genuine now. ‘Of course.’ This morning he seemed less subtle.

‘That’s a lovely suit, darling. I haven’t seen that one before, have I?’

Alex shook her head.

‘Shows off your superb figure. That ivory trim is delightful.’

‘Really, Mother,’ Alex admonished softly, standing to peck a kiss on Minerva’s cheek. ‘See you this afternoon. Matthew, I shall meet you downstairs in two minutes.’

__________

They had walked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, passing St Peter’s School as dark-blazered boys scurried around the grounds after a bell sounded for lessons.

‘According to my father, this is the fourth-oldest school in the world apparently, older than the House of Lords,’ Alex said, feeling she should offer some context for the local buildings they were passing by. ‘Mind you, its history can be traced much further, back to the seventh century, when it would have been nothing more than a small spread of wooden buildings over the River Ouse, I imagine.’

‘And now look at it, such a grand motley of implacable stone architecture.’

‘I think you’re right, there. Dad says behind that entrance,’ she said, pointing, ‘is a warren of corridors and chambers, built on over centuries.’

‘I attended a school similar to this – not as old, I’ll grant you, but this triggers lots of memories.’

‘Good or bad?’

‘Both. We boarded; that can be hell for some and haven for others. I sat somewhere in between but I would rather any son or daughter of mine have a choice.’

‘That’s reassuring,’ she said, cutting him a soft smile. ‘Joseph Terry, the founder of Terry’s Chocolate of York, schooled here but perhaps the most infamous student was Guy Fawkes.’

‘Really?’ His eyes sparkled with pleasure and Alex noticed the absence of the monocle he’d worn last night.

She nodded, smiling. ‘I can show you where he was christened too. One of the co-conspirators of the Gunpowder Plot attended St Peter’s as well. Boyhood friends turning to dark deeds. Um, I should have checked earlier, but you don’t mind walking to the tram, do you? I didn’t think it was necessary to drag Mr Potter out and be driven to the hospital.’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ he replied. ‘I find your guided tour of The Mount charming.’

‘I prefer the other direction, to be honest, as I spend most evenings riding on the Knavesmire but today I needed some air. You’ll have to forgive my mother in particular, Matthew. She thinks her spinster daughter needs a mate.’

He smiled gently, his gaze fixed well ahead. ‘And how about you, Alex? Do you think she needs one?’

She hadn’t been ready for such a bald response; she had expected something witty. ‘I really haven’t thought that far ahead.’