‘By heck,’ he exclaimed. ‘Is that his pa? He’s the spitting image of him!’

‘I never dare ask him – but I ’spect so. It’s not Sam. I reckon that one’s Sam as a younger man.’

Esther pointed to the other photograph in a silver frame. Matthew looked closely at it. ‘Not a bad looking fellow, was he?’ Then he pointed at the pretty young girl with a cloud of curls. ‘Who’s this?’

‘I reckon that’s Katharine Brumby, Sam’s sister. There’s an entry about her birth in the old Bible in the front parlour – and did you notice at the funeral where Sam was buried?’

‘No, can’t say I took any notice. I dun’t like funerals. I wanted to get out o’ there as quick as possible.’

‘Sam was buried alongside his parents, but on the other side was the grave of Katharine Brumby, his sister. She was only forty when she died. She can’t ever have married.’

Matthew leant forward and peered closely at the faded picture. ‘She looks like you, he murmured. ‘That explains it, then.’

‘Explains what?’

‘Why he took a fancy to you, of course.’ He came and stood in front of her. ‘You probably reminded him of her or summat. But then—’ Suddenly he grabbed her round the waist and lifted her bodily off the floor and tossed her on to the bed, so that the old springs squeaked and protested. ‘Who wouldn’t fancy you, Esther?’

He could not quell his hunger for her, yet now there was a look of resentment deep in his eyes.

‘Wait a minute, Matthew. There’s something else I want to show you.’

He was on top of her, his dark eyes so close, his breathing rapid. She could feel his desire.

‘Dun’t start mekin’ excuses, else I’ll . . .’

‘I’ll not break me promise,’ she said quietly, ‘but there’s something I want to show you.’

‘What?’ he demanded roughly, his tone still suspicious.

‘Let me up, then.’

After a moment’s hesitation, he rolled off her on to his back. Esther slid off the bed and bent down to pull out a heavy wooden box from under it. As she lifted the lid, Matthew reared up on one elbow and peered over the side of the bed. His jaw fell open. Inside were a great many coins, more money than either Matthew or Esther had ever seen in their lives.

‘The old miser!’ Matthew grinned, but there was admiration for the old man not insult, in his tone. His ill-temper was smoothed away by the sight of so much wealth. Wealth that was now Esther’s and – by rights – his too. ‘Who’d have thought it?’

Esther let the lid fall and pushed it away. Then she climbed back into bed.