I reached my room without meeting anyone. In fact the house seemed strangely deserted, although I thought I caught a faint murmur of voices from Sir Damian’s study, which was on the ground floor nearest the stairs. In my chamber I stripped off my wet clothes, offering up thanks once again that I had a room to myself. I rubbed myself dry with a towel and dressed again in dry clothes from the coffer, though I had but one doublet with me. In its place I pulled a woollen jerkin over my shirt. It was somewhat inappropriate for Sunday wear, but there was no help for it. The Barn Elms map had fallen to the floor as I took off my doublet and I found it was wet through. Carefully I peeled it apart. It was still legible. I laid it flat on the table and blotted it with the towel. My wet clothes I hung over the back of my chair and from my bed posts, in the hope they would dry eventually, though it was far from warm in my room. Next I lit a candle and passed the map above it. The paper began to dry out, though it browned a little and curled at the edges.

There was a noise from the schoolroom. The door opened and closed softly. I caught my breath. I did not want to be discovered with the Barn Elms map in my hand, so I folded it and shoved it down the neck of my shirt, then blew out the candle. Just in time, for there came a tap on my door. I pinched the smoking wick, then crossed to the door.

‘Yes?’

‘Master Alvarez? It is Cecilia. I heard you return. I wondered whether we might play some music together.’

I opened the door reluctantly, for I had no wish to see any of the family just then. She smiled when she took in my appearance, in my stocking feet, my doublet replaced by a plain jerkin.

‘You were caught in the storm?’

‘Aye.’ As if to prove it, I sneezed again and turned aside to hunt for a handkerchief. She followed me into the room. This, I was sure, would not have met with the approval of her parents. During the entire week I had been at Hartwell Hall, I had never been alone with my female pupil. Always we were discreetly chaperoned by the rector or the steward or even Edward. I looked over her shoulder. She was alone.

‘I do not think you should be here,’ I said, urging her back into the schoolroom. ‘Alone.’

‘Oh, there can be no harm in our making music together.’ She laughed and looked boldly into my eyes, then modestly down again. ‘I have a galliard for four hands on the virginal. No one else has the skill to play it with me. Will you not try it? I should be so pleased.’

This was a dilemma. I had been trying all week to win her confidence and acceptance. I did not want to offend her and cause those initial barriers to be raised again. On the other hand, I did not like that she stood so close to me, so that I could smell the raspberry scent of the pastilles she sucked to sweeten her breath. Nor did I like the way she laid her hand on my arm. It conveyed more than a simple request. It was more a caress. She slid her hand down into mine and drew me towards the virginal.

‘You see?’ She open a printed folio of music and propped it up above the keyboard. ‘It is far too difficult for Edward, or even Mama, but I am sure you could play it.’

She drew a second stool up to the virginal.

‘Will you take the lower part?’

She sat down and patted the stool to her left. I had no option but to sit down. Even at first glance I could see that the music would be beyond Edward’s capabilities. I had never heard Lady Bridget play, but I suspected she might well be as competent as her daughter. Why this pretence? Although I had been out of practice when I came to Surrey, I had played every day since and felt the bass part was not too difficult for me. I turned over the page. Yes, I could manage this. If the girl wished to be friendly, I must not be churlish.

We began to play. She was certainly talented. Her delicate fingers flew over the keys and I could sense how much she loved the music. I was aware, however, that as my hands ran up and down the keyboard, weaving the two parts together, it would be clear to anyone who looked closely that my hands were also too fine to belong to a man. I could only hope that she was too absorbed in the music to notice.

As she reached up to turn over the page, she moved closer to me, so that our sides were touching, and I heard her draw in her breath in a tiny gasp. Her lower lip was caught between her small white teeth. I tried to move away, but it was impossible without shifting my stool and my hands were full of notes. At last we reached the end of the piece. She sighed and dropped her hands into her lap.

‘Is it not beautiful?’ she said. ‘I would love to play with you every day.’ She let her head fall lightly on to my shoulder.

‘The music is beautiful,’ I said, aware that my voice sounded choked. ‘And we do make music together every day, both during your music and your mathematics lessons.’

I tried to sound like the stern tutor, but a suspicion was growing in me.

‘Oh, Master Alvarez,’ she said. ‘Christoval.’ She rolled the syllables of my name over her tongue as though she were licking them, and laid her hand on my thigh. Through my hose I could feel that it was not cool, as I had expected, but burning hot.

‘Do you not like me, Christoval?’

She buried her face in my neck and ran her hand further up my thigh. A gust of laughter was forcing its way up my throat. The girl was trying to seduce me! Perhaps the previous tutor had not left because she gave him trouble in her lessons, but for quite different reasons. Or for a different kind of trouble. From the moment I had arrived she had been provocative. As a girl, not thinking of myself as an eligible young man, I had not immediately understood what was afoot, but it was clear now. She might be but fifteen, but she was not inexperienced. The laughter in my throat was forced back by a warning rush of caution. I must be very careful. If I rejected her advances too unkindly, she could cause me serious trouble. But I could not encourage her.

I leaned forward to remove the music from the stand, managing at the same time to slip her head gently from my shoulder, although her hand still lingered on my leg, which it began to caress. A kind of hysterical panic seized me.

‘Shall we play one of our lute and virginal duets now?’ I asked, in what I hoped was a casual voice. She knew that I had felt her physical advances, but nothing had yet been said which needed to be unsaid.

She opened her mouth to speak – and I was afraid of what she might say – when we both heard from downstairs the very faint tinkling of a bell. She flinched as if she had been shot, sitting up and withdrawing her hand.

‘I must go.’

She got up from the stool, suddenly dismayed and flustered, looking more like an embarrassed girl and less like a young seductress. ‘I had not realised it was so late.’

She hurried from the room, taking care to close the door very softly behind her.

Curious. I had not heard that bell before in this house, but I had heard bells like it before. In the Catholic church at Coimbra, during Mass.

When we all sat down to dine that night, I was not surprised that the two strangers were absent. I had donned my doublet again, although it was still damp, and forced my feet into my wet shoes, for I had brought but the one pair with me. Lady Bridget asked about my ride and commiserated with my soaking. Sir Damian offered me one of his spare doublets, which I declined, for it would have gone round me twice. Edward promised to take me fishing soon. Now that I had seen the lake I would surely want to try my luck. The steward and the secretary were engaged in a discussion about the management of the home farm. Only Cecilia was silent, her eyes demurely on her plate, though from time to time she glanced across the table at me and smiled secretively.

There seemed to be a little too much eager conversation.