‘After dinner this evening you may tell Barnaby that I have a headache,’ she told Mrs Ruffin pettily as Tumble bounced onto the bed and snuggled down beside her. ‘And that I am requesting that he doesn’t disturb me and stays in his dressing room.’ With that she burrowed down the bed and pulled the silken sheets over her head.

Mrs Ruffin sighed. As much as she loved her young mistress, there were times when she tried her patience sorely and she almost felt sorry for the young master. Oh, she’d heard the rumours about the shenanigans he’d got up to with the young laundry maid but, she asked herself, in truth could she really blame him when his young wife was so indifferent to him? Louisa loved to be kissed and petted admittedly, but anything beyond that clearly filled her with dismay so was it any wonder that the poor soul wandered? It was very rarely that Louisa allowed him into her bedchamber now. It was a shame, she thought, that Louisa hadn’t found the same joy that Ruffy herself had found so briefly with her own husband. But seeing as she hadn’t, then what else was Barnaby to do? With another sigh she dimmed the lamp that stood on the bedside table and quietly left the room hoping that her young mistress would be in a happier frame of mind when she woke up.

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

‘Now are you quite sure you have the letter for your uncle, lass?’

Amber smiled weakly as she tapped the carpetbag she was holding. ‘You’ve asked me that at least ten times already, Mam, and the answer is still the same. Yes, it’s tucked safe here in me bag.’

Her mother glanced at the tin clock ticking away on the mantelshelf. ‘Reet, in that case you’d best be off, lass.’ She hastily swiped away the stray tear that trickled down her face with the back of her hand as she turned her daughter towards the door. She was painfully aware that this might be the last time she would see her until after the baby had been born and her heart broke at the thought. Alice would have her very first grandchild, one she would never see. But even though the thought was painful she knew it was for the best, and pulling herself together with an effort she looked her daughter up and down.

Today Amber was wearing her Sunday-best skirt made from black alpaca and her white frilled blouse. She also wore her new straw bonnet and Alice’s best shawl about her shoulders, and with her long blonde hair hanging down her back in thick gleaming curls she looked reet bonny!

‘You’ll do,’ she said with a wobble in her voice as she leant forward to kiss Amber one last time. ‘Be off with you. An’ . . . stay safe, lass.’