‘Are they coming back tomorrow? I thought they were staying at Feniscowles until next week.’

‘Don’t sound so disappointed. Tha can’t be on easy street all the time,’ Cook told her. But it wasn’t the work that was on Hannah’s mind. Whilst the family had been away she’d borrowed the first volume of Ivanhoe and smuggled it upstairs to read. She would have to make sure it was back on its shelf before they arrived.

It was late morning when the carriage came and Cook sent Hannah hurrying up the back stairs with a tray of hot chocolate for Mrs Feilden and her daughters. They were in the morning room, looking relaxed after their time in the country.

‘Good morning, Hannah,’ said Mrs Feilden. ‘Will you go up to my room and unpack my bag please? Everything’s clean. It can be put straight away.’

Hannah left them to pour their own chocolate and dashed up the main stairs, hoping that Mr Horrocks wouldn’t see her.

In Mrs Feilden’s room she began to unpack the clothes. She put the petticoats in one drawer and then picked up the two white blouses. She knew that Mrs Feilden had several and that she kept more at her country house as well as the ones that were here. There was one already in the drawer. Mrs Feilden always rejected it – saying that it felt too tight around the neck. Hannah fingered the fine cotton. It was almost identical to the one that Jennet had burned, probably stitched by the same seamstress. For a moment, she wondered if Mrs Feilden would miss it if she took it as a replacement, and whether Mrs Pickering would even realise it wasn’t hers. It would cost Jennet more than a week of her earnings just to buy the material for a new one. But she knew that Jennet would be furious if she ever found out that she’d stolen from her employer – even if Mrs Feilden did have more blouses than she could possibly wear – but it was so tempting. Reluctantly she put the blouses away and closed the drawer. She wouldn’t do anything now. She would think about it.

She went and collected the empty chocolate pot from the morning room and carried the tray back down to the kitchen. Sometimes, if Cook wasn’t looking and there was a little left at the bottom of the pot, she would pour it into a cup and taste it. Although it would be cold, she loved the texture of the thick drink as it coated her tongue and the sweetness would linger for hours afterwards. But today the pot was drained and she frowned in disappointment as she rinsed it out. She was tired. After all the trauma of yesterday and then getting back so late and having to be up early she felt as though she’d hardly slept. She wondered how Mary was this morning and when she would be able to slip out and see her. She hoped that Mrs Hall was taking proper care of her. After Dr Barlow had gone, Mrs Hall had shaken her head and said it was a mess. But she’d seemed genuinely worried, as if she’d grown fond of Mary, and that consoled Hannah, because she had to trust the woman to care for her friend when she really wished that she could go and nurse her herself.