The streak of morbidity in her character that had led her to take her older brother’s property was happily being fuelled by the joint pleasures of Elmer’s poetically loquacious presence after so many months of his being away and her Philip’s extensive library. Olivia had presumably added to it since his death but of all the things Helena could accuse her sister-in-law of lacking a sharp and enquiring mind was not one of them so those tomes were also quite welcome. John had thought she was mad to want this house but, as with everything, he had acquiesced quickly and without questioning her too much and they had settled without fuss and were enjoying the benefits of not having to rebuild a house entirely from the bottom up. Regan had even gifted them the furniture and Helena congratulated herself on moving them back to Hogsmeade permanently with the absolute minimum of fuss.

Settled with a pot of tea and a book of travel anecdotes about murderous tribes in far off lands – fuelling nothing but her anxiety that Elmer should never leave again – Helena was unperturbed to glance up into the eyes of her granddaughter. At any time now little Nimue would display magic and Helena had a selfish hope that it would somehow involve popping over to see her but a glance up at Charles squashed that theory for another day.

“Of course I don’t mind,” she said in a tone as amused as it was chiding at him for even suggesting such a thing, setting down her book and shuffling up her seat so her granddaughter could climb up next to her. They were in private so she thought it appropriate though she doubted the previous incumbent of the house would have agreed with her. ”You’re insisting upon that name still I take it?”