A thin, mewling cry coming from the nursery next door woke Amber in the middle of the night. She was out of bed in a second and after hastily lighting a candle she hurried in to see who was crying. She saw immediately that Charlotte was sleeping peacefully so she turned to David’s crib. Gently lifting him into her arms she crossed to the chair at the side of the fire and stroked his hair as she sat and rocked him to and fro. He didn’t appear to have a temperature or be in any pain so eventually, when his eyelids drooped again, she planted a kiss on his cheek, laid him carefully back in his cot, tucked his covers about him, and with a yawn went back to her own bed.

As usual Charlotte was the first to wake the next morning ready for her breakfast and Amber chuckled as she lifted her into her arms, enjoying the clean baby smell of her. Seconds later, Becky appeared knuckling the sleep from her eyes.

‘Morning,’ she said blearily as she went to heat the milk for the babies’ bottles and make the porridge that they could now eat. Once that was done, she crossed to David’s crib and as she leant over him her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped.

‘I-I think there’s sommat wrong wi’ David,’ she said tremulously.

Instantly Amber was on her feet and hurrying over with Charlotte still in her arms. She thrust the child at Becky who took her automatically and bending she lifted David from his cot. He was limp and his skin looked pale.

‘Run down for Mr Greenwood,’ she ordered with a note of panic in her voice. ‘I don’t think he’s breathin’.’

Becky dumped Charlotte, who was protesting loudly, back into her crib and was off like a March hare.

Minutes later Barnaby Greenwood burst in with Becky close behind him, his face a mask of concern.

‘What’s wrong?’ He snatched his son from Amber’s arms but the child was like a little rag doll and Barnaby began to keen. ‘Oh, my dear God . . . Becky, run to the stables and get one of the grooms to go for the doctor. Tell him it’s urgent and hurry!’ He turned to Amber, and still cradling his son he asked, ‘What happened?’

‘I-I don’t know.’ Amber was devastated. ‘He woke in the night and I got up and rocked him back to sleep and then when I got up he was like this . . .’

At that moment Margaret Hamilton-Tate swept into the room and taking in the pitiful sight in front of her she rasped, ‘What’s going on here? What’s all the fuss about? The nursery-maid just raced past me and almost knocked me over in the hallway saying something about a problem with one of the babies!’