Bett stared for a moment, then chuckled and went back to sorting her bundle. ‘Well you’re a kindly soul and it warms my cockles to know the care you have, but there’s no need. And have you not tasks to be about?’

Daniel started and made towards the door, picturing Father’s anger at his tardiness.

‘I’ve never feared they Haworths anyway, and besides,’ Bett said, voice muffled by her turned back, ‘they’ll not venture to that stretch of river.’

Daniel stopped in the doorway. ‘Oh?’

‘Nay. I’ve heard tell they use the scrub patch where it’s rocky and the trees grow thick.’ She glanced up, his idle presence distracting her. ‘So I’m quite safe.’

He remained fixed, her words curling into his mind.

He knew the part she spoke of. Might find himself wandering there later.

Screaming, a sound to stop the heart and freeze the blood. Someone was in trouble. Daniel ran, afraid of what he would find but determined to save the poor creature that suffered so.

The noise came towards him at full pelt, inside a tiny frame, all flying limbs and flapping hair. She crashed into him with surprising force and strength, knocking him to the ground. He caught the creature, held on though it was like trying to grasp an eel.

‘Shh. It’s all right, you’re safe now.’

‘Let go,’ the child yelled, struggling harder.

‘Settle down,’ he said. ‘You’re—’ The little fingers grabbed his hair and yanked. ‘Ow, wait …’

Daniel loosened his grip and the child ran into the arms of the Haworth girl, who stood over him. His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. He wasn’t sure whether with anticipation or trepidation.

‘What are you doing to my sister?’ she asked.

He sat up, rubbing his stinging scalp. Fought the urge to run. He regretted now whatever demented impulse had led him here. Searching for courage, though the blood beat through him so fast that he felt it roaring under his skin, he found his tongue at last. ‘Y-you’re better to ask what she’s doing to me.’

‘Were you stealing her?’

He could not tell whether it was sunlight or witchery that lit her eyes. He stood, scrambled to his feet, ready to run if need be. ‘I thought she was hurt, the poor thing. She – I was trying to help.’

The poor thing snarled at him from the protection of her sister’s arms. He held up his palms.

‘My mistake.’

‘Not your first.’

‘Certainly not.’

She watched him over the top of the child’s tangled head, her eyes startling dark blue, bright against her dirt-smudged skin. The wind snatched the untamed tangle of her hair from her face. There was an unexpected sweetness to the curve of her jaw, a slant to her lips that might have been mocking or friendly.