I whipped the photograph away. “You mean the stable lad who took charge of my car? Perhaps superficially, but I don’t think so.”

She gave me an odd look, and why not? The resemblance was striking. Benjie’s brother, Michael, and the stable lad, Alec, could have been twins, or father and son. Except that Michael died young. He did not live long enough to father a child who was now going on sixteen.

“I have a better one of Mr. and Mrs. Brockman’s wedding.” It wouldn’t do to remind Benjie of the brother he loved.

Millie perked up when she saw the cameras.

“You take photographs, Mrs. Shackleton?”

“I do.” Might as well rehearse my story. “I’m going to write a piece about people who live in the area, how they spend their time, where they work, what hobbies and such like, and I’ll take pictures.”

“I’d like my picture taking but there’s nothing interesting about me.”

“That can’t be true. I’m sure of it, after knowing you for just a few minutes. What do you do on your day off?”

“I’m a Sunday school teacher at the chapel.”

“Well then, there you are. Very interesting. I’ll take your picture tomorrow in your Sunday best.”

“Thank you.”

She looked far from pleased. Either a girl with mercurial moods or my mention of Sunday clothes upset her.

She turned away, and began to inspect my clothing, pouncing on a skirt and blouse that she claimed would benefit from having an iron run over them. She would have dashed from the room. I stopped her with a question.

“Where were you before you came to work here?”

It would be too good to be true if she said she lived on a rhubarb farm, and last time she visited home, had helped put a body in a sack.

“At home with mi mam and brothers, in Robin Hood.” She said that as if she would have preferred to stay there.

“And what about the young groom, Alec? Where was he before coming to live here?”

“He was in the children’s home. They fetched him out of it, or Mr. Brockman did.”

Unable to admit that I had been snooping about the area, and seeing the deserted ground where the orphanage had stood, I said, “Are there many children there now?”

“Oh no, madam. You see they all had to be moved.”

“Why was that?”

“Subsidence. There’s mine works all under that area. The children had to be moved away so that the earth wouldn’t swallow them.”

Chapter Twelve

Gertrude and I settled ourselves in wing chairs by the bay window in the music room. “Now tell me about this plan of yours, Kate.”

I outlined my idea for an article about the area, illustrated with photographs of local people and places.

“We’re rather dull here, not exactly National Geographic material.”

“Nonsense! The minute Benjie comes home I want a picture of you in your place of choice—the lord and lady of the manor. I hope you can rustle up a dog and a gun.”