Cook brought them both mugs of chicken broth, and they sat down to drink it, whilst warming themselves in front of the flames.

‘Is Mrs Wainright coming today?’ Emma asked, looking across at Cook, her expression eager.

‘Aye, she is, and I’m right thankful for that, I can tell yer. She allus restores order here and gets things on an even keel, keeps things shipshape,’ Mrs Turner said, more of an explanation for Blackie than anything else.

Emma looked pleased on hearing this, and then said to Blackie, ‘Mrs Turner’s husband was in the Royal Navy, and now so is her son. That’s why she uses a sailor’s words.’

Blackie grinned. ‘I like ’em though. Shipshape is my favourite, because I like everything to be neat and tidy.’

Cook nodded in agreement, and then asked Blackie if he would like a bacon buttie before going outside into the cold weather to work.

He exclaimed, ‘Faith, and that would be a treat, Cook. I thank ye. ’Tis generous ye are.’

Smiling, Mrs Turner went to the table in the middle of the kitchen and cut slices of freshly baked bread, asking Emma if she wanted a sandwich also. She slathered butter on the slices and added thick strips of bacon.

‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry, Cook,’ Emma said. ‘I’d better get me cleaning stuff together before Murgatroyd comes in looking for me.’

‘Aye, do that, lass, he’s a bit on the warpath this morning. Got out of bed the wrong side, I ’spect.’

Emma knelt down in front of another cupboard, taking out different products, black lead, small brushes and dusters, piling them in a bucket.

Mrs Turner said, ‘It’ll be a bit hard for yer today, luv, what with Polly sick and Mrs Wainright coming. You don’t have ter blacklead the grates this morning, but set the fire in the morning room, and dust it too; run the carpet sweeper over the rug. Set the breakfast table like Polly showed you, then come back here to help me with the breakfast. Yer’ll have the dining room, the library and Mrs Fairley’s upstairs parlour to do after—’ Cook broke off when the door burst open, and the butler came rushing in, a grim look on his face.

‘Why aren’t ye making the fires already?’ he shouted at Emma, moving across the room, tripping over her bucket in his haste. After steadying himself against the table, he leaned over her and slapped her face. ‘Yer never on time and yer never do owt right.’

Cook instantly put a restraining hand on Blackie’s arm, as he jumped up and looked ready to punch Murgatroyd in the face.