Turning her thoughts back to her own problems, Hannah walked towards King Street. It was where the big houses were, where the gentry lived. The Feildens’ house was at the bottom of the hill, on the outskirts of the town, where they had a view of the surrounding moorland. It was recently built and the bricks still glowed, unsullied by the filthy air that was always filled with soot from the chimneys of the mills and cottages. The house stood back from the street, in its own garden surrounded by a stone wall and railings. The entrance was through a high wrought-iron gate and beyond it a path led to a flight of steps that rose to the front door.

She patted the letter to make sure she still had it. What would she do if they looked at it and saw that it was a forgery? Would they send for the constable? Her heart was racing and she lingered on the busy street, not daring to approach the door, but not daring to go home either and admit that she hadn’t enquired.

At last Hannah took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The latch clicked as she raised it and the gate squeaked a little as it swung open. She was sure that there must be a servants’ entrance, but she couldn’t see where it might be, and she was still hesitating when the front door was opened and Mrs Feilden came out with one of her daughters and stared at her.

‘Horrocks!’ she said to the butler, who was holding the door. ‘Find out who that girl is and what she wants.’

‘You!’ called the man. ‘What are you up to?’

Hannah curtseyed and apologised. ‘I was looking for the servants’ entrance,’ she said. ‘I heard that there was a vacancy for a maid.’

‘She’s here to enquire about the maid’s position.’

‘Tell her to come back later – at eleven o’clock,’ instructed the woman. ‘I’ll see her then. Does she have a character reference?’

The butler raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Yes,’ said Hannah. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Come back at eleven then.’

‘Yes. I will. Thank you.’ She curtseyed again and hurried out on to the street, almost running into the path of the Feildens’ carriage in her eagerness to get away.

She had a couple of hours to fill before she went back – if she went back. She could go home and help Jennet with the laundry, but that would mean changing out of her best clothes and then back into them again and she didn’t feel she could be bothered. She could go to see Mary, but she knew that if she did she would tell her about the job. So she walked back towards Church Street and wandered in and out of the market stalls. After a while, she’d seen everything and some of the stall-holders were watching her suspiciously so she moved away and stared at the door of the Old Bull. She wished that she dared to go in and sit down and order a drink, but such places weren’t for a woman alone, not if you valued your reputation, and so she wandered down towards the bridge at Salford and sat there a while, watching the carts and carriages coming and going until she thought that it must be near to eleven.