‘Rosie, we are all waiting for you.’ Harriet yelled up the stairs, losing her patience with her teenage daughter.

Rosie appeared slowly at the top of the stairs and looked sheepishly at her mother. ‘I don’t feel well, Mother, I think I ate too many gooseberries when I was picking them for pies yesterday.’ She pulled a face and hoped that the white talcum powder she had covered her face with was convincing enough, from a distance, to back up her story.

‘Well, I’m not going without you. I’ll only worry the whole time I’m there. Besides, I really don’t want to go anyway, as your Aunt Isabelle will only gloat about her new abode.’ Harriet reached up and undid the ribbon of her hat and was about to take it off, when Danny stopped her.

‘It’s only a belly ache, Harriet. Rosie is sixteen, not six, and she’s got a tongue in her head. If she gets worse, she can always send for you. Besides, Ethan will be visiting his parents later today, and he can bring word to Windfell if Rosie worsens.’ Danny let his hand drop from hers, as Harriet stopped untying the ribbons for a moment. ‘She’s not a baby, my dear, and don’t make her the excuse for not visiting Windfell. It’s not every day we get invited for our lunch, so let’s make the most of it.’

Harriet sighed and told Rosie, ‘Go on, get yourself to bed. As your father says, let Ethan know if you get any worse. It’s lucky he said that he’d polish the harnesses and saddles this morning, as otherwise he’d be long gone.’ She looked up the stairs and watched as her daughter made good her escape from her gaze.

‘She will be fine, my love. Now come, my father and the children are waiting in the carriage and it’s a beautiful day, so we can dawdle and enjoy the scenery.’ Danny put his arm around his wife and guided her to the kitchen doorway. He was determined that Harriet and Isabelle would talk to one another over lunch, and he knew his sister must feel the same way or she would not have invited them – despite Harriet assuming they were invited just to hear Isabelle gloating.

Harriet looked back. ‘I just hope that Rosie will be alright; she never says she’s ill, as a rule.’

‘She will be fine. As she says, she’s been greedy eating those green gooseberries she was top-and-tailing yesterday, that’s all.’ Danny helped his wife up into the carriage. For once, she had listened to sense and had agreed that Rosie was old enough to look after herself. Perhaps her feelings of inadequacy in motherhood were finally ebbing. He certainly hoped so.