‘We’re not asking for money or owt,’ William tried to reassure him. ‘It’ll not cost thee a penny. All we need is a mark on the licence to say that you agree.’

Her father spat into the fire, making it sizzle. ‘Like I said. She’s no daughter of mine. Tha can do as tha likes. It’s nowt to do wi’ me.’

‘See?’ said Mary to William. ‘I knew it’d be a waste of time. Let’s go.’ She grasped his sleeve and pulled him back out of the door, anxious to get away.

‘I didn’t really think he’d be so awkward about it,’ admitted William as they reached the end of the street. ‘I thought tha were exaggerating.’ He seemed shaken by the experience.

‘He hates me,’ said Mary. ‘Just like thy parents hated me.’

‘They didn’t!’

‘Of course they did. It was clear as a bell on their faces. They know what I am and they’d never let tha marry me even if it were possible, which it isn’t. So tha might as well forget it!’

They reached the Star and he followed her into the deserted parlour and sat down. She unfastened the ribbons on her bonnet. There was no way out for her, no way at all. She’d been prepared to marry him as a last resort and now even that had been snatched away from her.

William sat, glum-faced. She could see that he was bitterly disappointed that all his plans had come to nothing.

‘I will marry thee, when tha’s old enough,’ he told her after a moment. ‘I will wait.’

‘And what am I expected to do in the meantime?’

‘I’ll think of summat.’

She shook her head. ‘Tha’d best forget it, William,’ she told him. ‘It were a kindly gesture, but it can’t be. Find some other place to drink and forget about me,’ she advised before she left him to his brooding and went upstairs to her room to try to think of another way of leaving the beerhouse for good.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hannah sat in church between Jennet and Peggy. Bessie was on her sister’s knee and Peggy was holding a little prayer book where she followed the prayers with a finger, keeping her place under each word. As Mr Whittaker’s voice droned on, Hannah glanced up and found her eyes drawn to the familiar figure sitting in the pew a few rows in front. It was the first time she’d seen James since the night they went to the poets’ corner. He’d been missing from church the previous Sunday and although Hannah had been to all the Reform meetings with Titus, held in the Assembly Rooms now, James Hindle had never attended. She thought that he was avoiding her.

She knew that he needed time to think about whether he wanted to continue their courtship, and she didn’t want to pressure him, but not knowing whether he would even give her the time of day if she caught his eye after the service was agonising.