‘You know that when Clem first asked me to marry him it was because he believed Jessica needed a stepmother. Then, when she fell in love with Kane, he came to me and asked me again, for himself. He says he loves me and I know he does.’ Catherine was crying softly. ‘But it hurts so much to know he’d rather have Kerensa with him now than me.’

‘It’s only for a little while, Catherine. We will not be staying here long.’ Oliver took her cold hand. ‘It’s you who will be here for Clem after we’ve gone and for all the days ahead when he’ll need help coming to terms with his grief. Kerensa doesn’t want to remain for that. She wants to be with me.’

‘How kind you are to offer me comfort, when in a way, your grief is of the worse kind, knowing your nephew is not only dead but the perpetrator of a capital crime. Come inside the house, Oliver, and wait with me.’

Although most of the workers had drifted away to their usual tasks, Luke wandered off behind the outbuildings, where he could not be seen.

Looking out across the vastness and loneliness of the moor, some of the old, heavy sense of isolation returned to beleaguer him. He could not face journeying alone to London. In the light of what had happened, his play, his hopes for its success, seemed unimportant. He would shelve its presentation, his dream, for the time being.

From the evidence around him this was a well-kept farm. Philip Trenchard had achieved his dream, his life cut undeservingly short by a man who had allowed his wish to be rich and free to wander the world to be corrupted by evil. The cost of his crime would affect Jessica and Cordelia, and to a lesser extent his father and mother, for the rest of their lives. All so tragic and unnecessary.

The sound of horses brought Luke out of his musings. It was Jessica, Timothy and Jack who clattered into the yard, with the farmhand sent as messenger. Jessica and Timothy went into the house. Jack approached Luke.

‘I thought you might be glad of some company.’

‘I am, thanks Jack. How’s Cordelia?’

‘Shocked, upset. She’s got Morgan and Alicia with her.’

‘Alicia can’t be feeling sorry Bartholomew forfeited his own life.’

Jack looked grim. ‘She feels she’s avenged Lord Alex by ill-wishing it on him. I’m glad, at least, that’ll stop. ’Twas getting unhealthy; an obsession with her. Luke, what’s Sir Decimus going to think about Bartholomew’s death?’

‘I was worried about that at first, but he can’t connect it to you, I or Alex. I wish Bartholomew had not asked my parents to bring up his child. She’s going to be a constant reminder of him and this dreadful tragedy.’

‘When will you go up to London?’