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, the Fairleys, most of ’em,’ she finished dismissively.

‘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’s nice,’ she acknowledged.

‘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 number 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 who’s poorly,’ Emma explained.

‘No other maids like ye?’ Blackie asked, surprised at the answer Emma had just given. To be so low on staff seemed odd to him.

‘Just Polly, but she’s got a bad cold. She’s in bed. I have ter do her work.’ Emma grimaced. ‘Well, we’re there … welcome to Fairley Hall,’ she announced in a scathing tone.

‘The Monstrosity,’ Blackie muttered, and looked at Emma, then put his arm around her shoulder. ‘What is it, mavourneen? Ye’ve got such a strange look on your face.’

‘I’m frightened of this place,’ she murmured. ‘Like when I have ter walk past the cemetery at night.’