‘No, I’ll bide my time because I need to speak to Isabelle first; it’s only right.’ Archie looked out of the window at the overgrown hedges full of cranesbill and meadowsweet passing by. ‘Hey up! It’s raining; well, my old lass, tha’ did get blessed from heaven afore they filled you in, after all.’ Archie sat back and smiled at his granddaughter and thought of the coffin that held Charlotte being rained upon, and of the love she had given him. It was a pity his son hadn’t quite the same affection from his own wife. Happen he shouldn’t have talked Danny into getting wed to Harriet all those years ago and maybe, if they hadn’t lost the children, things would have been different. He sighed and leaned on his stick. Nay, but hindsight was a marvellous thing; if you knew what life was to throw at you, you’d never do anything, he thought. Time would tell if they sank or swam; and the news he was to tell Danny the next morning would have a huge bearing on his son’s future, but it was something he had to do before he, too, departed God’s good earth.

3

3

Isabelle looked at her husband lying back in the unmade bed, half-asleep but half-awake as he listened to her ranting. She’d tossed and turned all night, thinking about the repercussions of her mother’s death. When she’d asked what was to become of Windfell, Archie had completely ignored her.

‘What if Mother has not left me Windfell? It’s my home. I hope she realized how much I love the place. You do know that my true father bought it? That’s why it should belong to me.’

James yawned and rubbed his head, giving up on getting any peace as he pulled the covers back and sat in his nightshirt on the side of the bed. ‘I thought your father was broke and beyond help, until your mother stepped in and saved the day.’ He relieved himself in the chamberpot and immediately regretted his response.

‘Oh, shut up. You know nothing when it comes to my family.’ Isabelle looked at her husband. ‘I’m beginning to realize that the family history I was told was perhaps a little bit in favour of my mother, especially if Windfell is not to be mine.’