‘Things changed. They were told of their stepfather’s dispositions, I imagine. That he had left his estate to his wife, and to all his children equally if she died first. In any event, Edward and Isabel seemed to alter. They had become close while Master Cotterstoke was in the house. They didn’t go back to quarrelling like before, but they – avoided each other. And oh, the fierce looks they would give one another. Mistress Cotterstoke’s attitude to them seemed to change as well, even before she lost the baby she was carrying. She had been sharp with them before, but now she almost ignored them. She sold the business, and arranged for Edward to start clerking at the Guildhall, which meant he had to live out. That was just a few months later.’

‘So he did not inherit the business after all.’

‘No. And though Isabel was only fifteen her mother seemed keen to marry her off; she was always inviting potential suitors to the house. But Mistress Isabel, as ever, would not be brought to do something against her will.’ Vowell smiled sadly, then shook his grey head. ‘There was a horrible atmosphere in this house, until at length Isabel agreed to marry Master Slanning and left. Afterwards Mistress Cotterstoke seemed to – I don’t know – retreat inside herself. She didn’t often go out.’ He looked over at her empty chair. ‘She spent much of her time sitting there, sewing, always sewing. Kept a strict house, though, kept us servants on our toes.’ He sighed deeply, then looked up at us. ‘Strange, is it not, with all the sad things that happened here, that she never moved, even when she was alone, the house far too big for her.’

I looked at the wall painting. ‘Perhaps she remembered she had once been happy here. I notice her chair faces the picture.’

‘Yes. She was sitting there when she had her seizure. Edward and Isabel seldom visited, you know, and never together. And the mistress didn’t encourage them. It saddened me to see how they were with each other when they came here for the inspection. And that strange Will – ’ He shook his head. ‘Perhaps I should not have told you all this. What good can it do? It was so many years ago. Whatever happened, it cannot be mended.’

Philip stood pondering, fingering his bearded chin. Vowell gave a despairing little laugh. ‘What will happen, sir? Shall I remain as caretaker of this empty house till I die? I don’t like being here alone.’ He added in a rush, ‘At night sometimes, when the wood creaks – ’

I felt sorry for the old man. I looked at Philip. ‘I think we have learned all we need, Brother Coleswyn.’

‘Yes, we have.’ Philip looked at Vowell. ‘You should have spoken before.’