Work had started. The old mill had been demolished, the waste disposed of, and the site was in the process of being prepared for the new building. Lizzie was still working in Tannerson’s home office. Ellen had wondered what she had to do when there was no production at present, but Lizzie said there was plenty of note-taking, not only from Mr Tannerson but the engineers too. She confessed to being a martinet for recording notes on every little thing that had been discussed or agreed to.

‘Mr Tannerson must bless ’day that you started working for him,’ Ellen commented. ‘He must wonder how he ever managed without you.’

There was such a long and silent pause that Ellen looked up and saw a small smile on her sister’s face. ‘He does,’ Lizzie murmured, and turned to face her.

Ellen waited; Lizzie could be so annoying sometimes. She never blurted out spontaneous thoughts, but always seemed to be weighing up what reactions there might be to what she was about to say.

‘Lizzie?’ she exclaimed. ‘Is it something momentous?’

Lizzie heaved out a breath. ‘I rather think it might be, and I don’t know whether I should defy convention and say yes now, or wait for a more appropriate time.’

Ellen’s lips parted. ‘Would it hurt anyone if you defied convention?’

Lizzie gazed up at the ceiling as if debating on the shape of it and listening to the chatter of Sarah and Mary upstairs in the bedroom. Her gaze then drifted outside to where Thomas was helping his father in the garden and holding up his muddy hands to show him. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Not anybody who matters, anyway.’

Ellen sat back in her chair and picked up her knitting. She was making a white jacket and bonnet for Anna’s expected baby. I’m not going to ask, she decided. She can confide in me in her own good time.

After a few minutes, Lizzie cleared her throat. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me?’

Ellen began another row. ‘What?’ she said. ‘What am I supposed to ask you if I don’t know what it is I’m expected to say? You were speaking of defying convention. What’s that supposed to mean? Which convention?’

‘The convention of not remarrying before finishing the allotted mourning time considered proper for widows.’

‘Since when have you ever considered that personal matters are anything to do with anybody else?’ Suddenly, Ellen dropped her work. ‘What? Lizzie!’

She jumped to her feet, scattering wool and needles, and put out her arms. ‘Oh, Lizzie! Has he asked you? Mr Tannerson – oh, should I start calling him Roland?’

She pulled Lizzie out of her chair and hugged her. ‘Oh, dearest sister. I am so pleased, thrilled, delighted for you.’ She kissed her cheek and hugged her again. ‘Are you happy?’

Lizzie put her head back and laughed. ‘I rather think I am!’

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT