‘Suit yourself, my lady. But going to church shows your standing in the local community, and it doesn’t hurt to be seen there. We will be back for lunch, so we won’t be long.’ Isabelle walked over to the doorway and left her daughter in the morning room, reaching for pen and paper from the desk next to the window. Jane was in a mood and was best left alone.

Jane watched her mother and father walk down the drive and past the beech trees that were blowing in the northerly wind. Her mother was holding onto her hat, despite the hat pin keeping it in place, and Jane shook her head, wondering why they hadn’t taken the trap instead of walking the half-mile to Langcliffe.

She reached for her pen and looked at the blank pages of paper in front of her. She didn’t feel like writing, but as usual on a Sunday that was all there was to do – that and a gentle walk, as her mother had reminded her. She breathed in deeply, sat back in her chair and looked outside: a walk or letter writing? Both were equally boring, she thought, as she picked up the pen again and dipped it in the inkpot. She stopped when she heard the sound of horses’ hooves as they disturbed the pebbles on the drive outside the window. She looked out, but could see nobody, so presumed it was Jethro or someone visiting him, or one of the staff, as she couldn’t hear the doorbell being rung and answered. She picked up her pen once again and started to write.

She stopped quickly, almost knocking her inkpot over, as there was a knock on the morning-room door.

‘Enter,’ Jane shouted, as she looked at the words written half-heartedly on the nearly blank piece of paper.

‘Begging your pardon, Miss, but there is a gentleman here. He came to the back door, wanting to see your grandfather. I’ve told him that he no longer lives here, but once he explained what his business was, I thought that perhaps you would like to save him the bother of travelling all the way to Crummock. Our Ethan will be calling on us this afternoon, and he could take the card back with him.’ Mazy looked at Jane and waited, with the visitor standing patiently behind her.

‘The card?’ Jane looked up.

‘Yes, Miss. Mr Bland here is delivering his grandfather’s funeral card.’

Jane got up from her desk and looked past Mazy, ignoring her question.