Chapter 12

Surgery day.

At six in the morning, I was woken by a knock on the door.

Not an alarm clock, not a natural waking, but that restrained, rhythmic knocking—*tap, tap, tap*. Three times, a pause, then three times again. It was Henry the butler's style: always proper, always distant.

"Miss Emily, it is time to wake up. The car is waiting downstairs at seven." His voice came through the heavy oak door,