“How far is the Hall?” Blackie asked, striding out beside her.

“Ye’ll see it in a few minutes, when we get ter that moor in front of us.”

Silence fell between them once again. Several times he glanced down at her and saw that her face was now set in more serious lines. And he thought she even looked a bit anxious. But he made no comment. After all, they had only just met a short while ago.

After climbing up the hill, they were finally on top of the moor, which overlooked a small valley. Emma looked out across the river Aire below, and then turned to face Blackie. “That’s where they live!” she exclaimed, pointing to a house in the valley.

Staring back at her, he was genuinely taken aback by the expression in those emerald eyes. It was one of pure hatred, and her face was tense with controlled emotion.

He felt a small shiver running through him. She was more than likely badly treated by the Fairleys, well, perhaps some of them, maybe only one. But the hatred was a palpable thing, and he wondered what he would find inside the Hall.

Clearing his throat, staring down at the house, he exclaimed, “What an awful-looking place that is, Emma! Chimneys and towers, add-on buildings and no symmetry. A monstrosity, if ye ask me. And here I was, thinking it would be a grand house, Georgian, perhaps even Palladian in style. But this house, Fairley Hall, is just a muddled mess. A hodgepodge of styles.”

His words obviously pleased Emma, and she smiled, and said, “And I knows yer right, ’cos yer an expert. It’s not got nice gardens either. And they’re awful people, excepting the Squire. He’s kind.”

“How many Fairleys live there?” Blackie asked, his curiosity aroused more than ever.

“The Squire, Mrs. Fairley, Master Edwin, the heir, his brother, Gerald, and sometimes Mrs. Olivia Wainright comes to stay. She lives in London, and she’s Mrs. Fairley’s sister. She is nice too, like the Squire.”

“I’m wondering what the sons are like?” Blackie looked at Emma and raised a brow questioningly.

She answered swiftly, “Master Gerald’s a bossy lad, allus shouting and teasing Master Edwin, who keeps away from him when he can. I like Master Edwin; he is polite. The other boy is nasty.”

“And what about the others there? Surely there is a housekeeper, a cook and a butler?” Blackie was well aware of the need the rich had for servants, having spent so much time at Bolton Manor in Yorkshire and Lassiter Hall in Ireland. A big house, like the one they were now approaching, would require the same amount of people to clean it and run it, probably more in fact.

“Cook is Mrs. Turner, and the butler is Mr. Murgatroyd. The housekeeper, Mrs. Hargreaves, is in Ilkley. She’s gone ter look after her sister, Adelaide, who’s poorly,” Emma explained.