But to lose Charlotte . . . As the image of her chubby little face floated in front of his eyes a tear ran unheeded down his cheek. No, he couldn’t have Amber hounded for taking what was, after all, her child, and so somehow he would have to stick to the story he had told Becky – at least until after Louisa had . . . He couldn’t bring himself to think of her dying, but it was inevitable and it struck him that once she was gone he would have no one. It was a daunting thought.

Once he had managed to compose himself, he went downstairs to tell Mrs Boswell that Miss Ainsley had been called away unexpectedly to visit a sick relative and he had given permission for her to take Charlotte with her.

‘Really? This is the first I knew of it,’ the woman said doubtfully. ‘And how long are they expected to be gone?’

‘Well, with my wife being so poorly, I told her to take as long as she needed,’ he lied. ‘And so it will be for an indefinite period. Meanwhile, I would be grateful if you could employ Becky below stairs until Miss Ainsley and Charlotte return.’

‘Oh, I can do that easily enough now that we have Mr and Mrs Hamilton-Tate staying,’ she assured him. ‘Was there anything else, sir?’

‘No, that will be all, thank you, Mrs Boswell.’

She bobbed her knee and went on her way as Barnaby went to the stables to have his horse saddled. Perhaps he would go into town before he went to work. It wouldn’t hurt to make a few discreet enquiries as to where Amber might have gone, and if he could only find her, he might be able to persuade her to bring Charlotte back.

However, when he rode into town a short time later, looking as if he had the worries of the world resting on his shoulders, he found the whole place swarming with police.

‘What’s going on here?’ he enquired of a sailor with a kitbag on his back who was heading for the docks.

‘Somebody broke into the post office durin’ the night be all accounts.’ The man spat out the mouthful of tobacco he had been chewing. ‘Trouble was, the postmistress heard him an’ when she come down to see what were goin’ on they clubbed her to death. Poor old sod, she were a good woman were Mrs Tilsley.’

‘Good grief! Do they have any idea who it was?’