Who the bloody hell -

Alfred stared at the room he’d been offered. Tasteful, gentle, the typical sort of guest room found in a very rich household such as the one he’d found himself in. A dark old bed, tall wardrobe with an ornate key tethered to the knob with a stretch of white ribbon, a sideboard and set of drawers. The bedding looked just as old as the house itself, a thickly woven white woollen bedspread over a red-brocade quilt. Looking down, Alfred focussed on the dark planks at his feet. He shouldn’t find it this hard to keep his emotions under control.