‘Mr Feilden’s hoping to drum up support for his parliamentary ambitions,’ said Cook. ‘He’s invited all the folk as he thinks will vote for him to see if they can be persuaded with some good food and fancy wine.’

‘Titus says votes should be secret,’ said Hannah. ‘He says it isn’t fair when votes can be bought with bribes.’

‘I wouldn’t call it bribery!’ said Cook, sounding shocked at the notion. ‘What’s wrong with showing folk a little hospitality in return for their support?’ she asked as she cut butter into portions and laid them on small plates, adding a sprig of parsley to each one.

‘Titus says the members who go to Parliament should represent the best interests of all the townsfolk, not just them that has the vote.’

‘Well, I’m sure Mr Feilden will. He’s a good man and a fair one, and I’ve warned thee before that tha needs to mind thy tongue when tha’s living under his roof.’

Hannah didn’t reply. She knew she would only get herself into trouble if she kept repeating what Titus thought. She hadn’t taken much notice of what he’d said when she was living with him, but since she’d been to the Reform meeting with Jane, she’d begun to take more interest, especially after seeing the schoolmaster there. She was trying to educate herself about politics so that she would sound interesting and intelligent, if she was ever lucky enough to get into conversation with him again.

‘So does tha not think everyone should have a vote?’ she asked after a while, unable to let it drop.

‘What do ordinary folk know about what goes on in London?’ asked Cook. ‘It’s none of our business.’

‘But it is our business when one household has all this to eat and there are folk starvin’ out there on the street.’

‘Drunk, most of ’em,’ said Cook as she lifted the pastry over her pie and began to trim and crimp the edges. ‘They’d be better off if they weren’t spending so much on drink. Now that Mr Livesey, he’s got summat worth sayin’ when he’s telling folk not to touch it and to stay upright and sober. Tha’d be better off listenin’ to him rather than the likes of Titus Eastwood who think that they’re up on a level with the gentry. Anyhow, there’s more important matters at hand than talking nonsense about votes. Tha’d best put a clean apron on. Mrs Feilden’ll be ringing for thee to help her dress at any moment.’

As soon as the bell sounded, Hannah hurried up the stairs and tapped on the bedroom door. She was called in and found Mrs Feilden sitting at her dressing table in her petticoats with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

‘Pin it up, Hannah,’ she told her, ‘and fix the feather.’ She nodded towards the buff-coloured plume that lay in front of her.

‘I’m no good at anything fancy,’ Hannah admitted as she picked up the brush and moved the tray of pins within reach.