‘I know, you are doing well.’ Isabelle smiled at her youngest. He really should not have been sent for her. He was so like she was and, at sixteen, he’d never known anyone close to him die. He really knew nothing of life yet. ‘Is Jane alright – is she comforting your grandfather?’ She thought of her seventeen-year-old daughter and hoped she was bearing up. Jane worshipped her grandmother. In fact Isabelle sometimes believed Jane thought more fondly of her grandmother than of her, which was not surprising, given the similarities in their personalities, which were more than noticeable when they were together.

‘Aye, our Jane was organizing tea and sympathy as I left. She was there for Grandfather this morning. You’d have been proud of her. As soon as Ethan knocked on the door of Ingfield, to tell us Grandmother was ill, Jane organized us all. She can be so bossy, can our Jane,’ said Luke.

‘She’ll only mean well. She likes to take control.’ Isabelle smiled at her son; there was a healthy rivalry between her children, with both being a little jealous of the other. She sighed as they reached the outskirts of Settle. How she wished she was standing on the steps of Windfell, instead of passing her current home of Ingfield House.

‘Nearly there, Mother.’ Luke took the corner sharply as he passed the River Ribble and the Christies’ cotton mill, worrying slightly that the horse was starting to become flecked with sweat along its shoulders.

Isabelle looked up at the open scars of the limestone quarry half a mile down from Windfell and knew she was truly home. Her heart beat fast and she felt sick; would she arrive in time to find her mother still alive?

Turning into the drive, they saw Ethan waiting for their arrival. His father, Jethro, stood in the shadow of the stables. Ethan grabbed Bess’s harness and then held his hand out for Isabelle to dismount from the trap.

‘Thank you, Ethan. I’m afraid Bess needs your assistance more than I do,’ Isabelle said apologetically.

‘Don’t worry, ma’am, you get into the manor and see how it is with your mother.’ Ethan smiled at the worried-looking woman and then led the horse and trap to where his father stood, while Luke climbed down.

‘Sorry, I was a bit hasty and asked a little too much of her,’ said Luke, as he took his cap off his head and rubbed the sweat on his brow with it.

‘Not to worry, we’ll look after her now. You look after your mother, and pray for your grandmother.’