Alicia was saddened at how immature Cordelia sounded. ‘If you don’t mind, Cordelia, I’ll not venture much further. It was foolish to come out at such a hot time of day. I must say, you are obtaining quite a curiosity for this area and its legends.’

‘But it’s sort of romantic, don’t you think?’

Alicia laughed kindly. ‘I don’t see how. My dear, the only romantic notion you ought to entertain should involve acquiring yourself a real live man.’

Cordelia blushed hotly. ‘What do you mean?’

Was Mrs Jack referring to Morgan Kinver? Had she noticed how long they had spoken together this morning? Afterward, Amy Curnow and the silly gaggle of kitchen maids had made free with her feelings.

‘Better watch out, Miss Cordelia. He can catch a maid, but like his brothers, he can’t be caught hisself.’ Mrs Curnow had giggled. ‘Must reckon, because he lives in a finer house than we, he stands a chance with ’ee.’ Cordelia intended to demand Luke reprimand the cook severely, even though he called her ‘a treasure’ and an ‘ideal servant’.

‘Please don’t take exception, I meant no unkindness,’ Alicia said, regretting her remark. Such a pity Luke was so wrapped up in his play writing. It would take the most shameless femme fatale to harness him, and in Cordelia’s case she had the added difficulty of Luke taking her for granted. Luke was not missing out on the intimate side of life because Alicia had witnessed Amy Curnow slipping out of his bedroom with a sly smile, clutching a shilling piece. According to gossip, Mrs Curnow had a Kinver offspring, being reared at her mother’s home. If Luke got her pregnant, a dark-haired Kinver could take the blame.

‘Oh!’ Alicia cried out suddenly.

‘What is it? The baby?’

‘No, we’re almost at the cottage ruins. They give me the shivers. We must go back.’

‘Very well. Wait a moment, what’s that colour over there?’

‘I don’t know.’ Alicia turned and started to retrace her steps.

‘It’s flowers,’ Cordelia exclaimed. ‘Can you not wait a moment while I pick them? They’ll die and be wasted with no one to water them.’

Alicia looked over her shoulder. The charred stone walls of the cottage, the windows like huge discordant eyes, made her think how Alex’s house now looked. Very soon she would have nightmarish thoughts of how the flames must have devoured his flesh. She was about to break down in grief and needed to be alone. ‘I’ll carry on, Cordelia. You can catch up with me.’

‘I’ll only be a minute or two.’

Breathing hard, Alicia walked fast, soon leaving Cordelia and the burnt-out cottage behind. She was nearing the grounds of the house, relieved Cordelia had not joined her, for she needed to find a secluded place to weep for Alex and herself.