‘Mrs Ruffin told me that you wished to see me, my dear?’ Barnaby said as he entered his wife’s bedroom early one misty September morning. Already there was a hint of autumn in the air and there was a fire roaring in the grate.

Louisa was languishing on the window seat in a loose gown of yellow silk that pooled around her. ‘Yes. I’ve been thinking, Barnaby, and I have decided that I don’t wish our child to be born here. This room has seen its share of dead babies and I wish to go somewhere there are no unhappy memories.’

‘I see. And did you have somewhere in mind?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I would like to go to my parents’ holiday home in Scarborough. They did say we could use it whenever we wished and it is quiet and peaceful there.’

Barnaby glanced at Mrs Ruffin with concern writ on his face. Louisa was very close to her time now so surely it wouldn’t be wise for her to be travelling any distance. But Mrs Ruffin merely shook her head. She knew of old that what her young mistress wanted she would get so what would be the point of arguing with her?

‘I see.’ Barnaby clasped his hands behind his back as he began to pace up and down. ‘But, darling, the place is no more than a cottage – a very nice cottage admittedly but I don’t think your parents have visited it for years. It would need a thorough airing and cleaning and there would be no room for many of the staff.’

‘I only want Ruffy with me this time when the baby comes,’ she said petulantly, like the spoilt little girl she was. ‘And a midwife, of course. I’m sure there will be one there who you could organise to attend.’

He scratched his head and sighed. ‘And if I can manage to arrange all this, when would you want to go?’

‘As soon as possible,’ she answered decisively. ‘Ruffy will look after me and do the cooking, won’t you Ruffy, dear?’