‘Very well, although I’m not happy about this.’

‘There’s one other thing you could do for me,’ Daisy said in a low voice. ‘Ask Mary to come here to keep me company. Tell her I’d be very much obliged if she could bring herself to do this for me.’

Nick eyed her suspiciously. ‘What are you up to?’

She gave him an angelic smile. ‘Nothing for you to worry about, Doctor.’

Molesworth made it clear that he suspected Daisy’s motives for agreeing to nurse his master, but Mrs Ralston, the squire’s housekeeper, was more amenable. She had a bedroom made up so that Daisy would be near the squire at all times, and she saw to it that trays of food were sent up to the sickroom to tempt Daisy’s appetite. It was hard to treat the squire like an ordinary patient, but Daisy somehow managed to put the past behind her and even if she could not be sympathetic, she dealt with his symptoms in a professional manner and, to her surprise, he responded with gratitude. The disease stripped the sufferers of their dignity as well as being debilitating and painful, but Esmond was not a man to give up easily.

On the third morning Daisy had managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep after tending to the squire’s needs during the night, but she was awakened at first light by someone shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes, staring blearily into Mary’s worried face.

‘I came as soon as I could.’

Daisy sat up in bed, shivering and reaching for her wrap. It was bitterly cold in her room and particles of ice had formed on the inside of her window. ‘The squire is failing fast, Mary.’

‘What do I care? That man ruined my life. I came here to help you, not him.’

‘I want to see justice done, and this might be his only chance to save his soul, if such a thing is possible.’

Mary glanced round the room. ‘Should I light the fire? It doesn’t look as if the maid is going to oblige.’

Daisy slipped her wrap around her shoulders. ‘Yes, please do. I’d better go and check on my patient. I’ll explain everything when I get a moment.’ She fastened the voluminous garment with a sash and left the room, padding barefoot on the thick carpet as she entered the squire’s bedchamber. She pulled back the curtains, allowing the pale dawn light to filter into the room. The squire’s breathing was stertorous and when she drew nearer to the bed she could tell by the blueness of his skin that the end was very near. For a moment she felt a surge of pity, but she quelled the emotion, falling back on the months of experience she had endured with the killer disease. This was not the time to be sentimental. She made him as comfortable as possible before ringing for a servant. When the flustered maid put her head round the door as if afraid to enter the room, Daisy sent her to fetch Mr Peabody, the vicar. The maid fled, calling for Mrs Ralston in a panic, but Daisy had a plan.