‘And he’s the squire now, or at least he’s the landowner, and will continue to bleed his tenants dry while doing nothing to improve their lot.’

‘Nick, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were jealous. You and Jay were boyhood friends, and you of all people ought to realise that he wouldn’t behave like that. He didn’t choose to be the squire’s son, and he suffered years of abuse from Lemuel without ever knowing why.’

‘That’s as maybe, but if Jay is going to be lord of the manor he needs to see how his tenants live.’

‘Don’t you think he knows that already?’ Daisy kept her voice even, but she was losing patience with the man she had once thought she might marry. ‘Jay grew up in one of the squire’s hovels.’

‘Then perhaps you ought to see the conditions that some of my patients have to endure.’ Nick reined in Hero and climbed down to the ground, reaching for his medical bag. ‘Will you come in with me?’

Daisy glanced at the cottage, which was half submerged in a snowdrift. There were tiles off the roof and the woodwork around the windows was rotten, as was the front door. Half the panels were split and the bottom of the door was like a row of broken teeth. Nick held out his hand and she accepted his help as she alighted from the trap.

The interior of the cottage smelled of bad drains and sickness. The walls oozed damp, green mould was spreading up the wall and the packed earth floor was rapidly turning to mud. There was a single iron bedstead in the corner of the room and beneath the tattered blankets Daisy could just make out the shape of an elderly woman. A claw-like hand clutched what had once been a colourful patchwork quilt but was now filthy and faded.

Nick leaned over his patient. ‘How are you today, Betsy?’

‘Not so good, Doctor.’

Daisy moved closer. ‘Can I do anything?’

‘Water,’ Betsy croaked. ‘I have a terrible thirst.’

‘Where are your family, Betsy?’ Nick asked gently. ‘Your daughter usually looks after you.’

‘She’s gone to beg Farmer Johnson for an egg or two.’

‘Is that all you have to eat?’ Daisy asked anxiously.

‘Water, for the love of God.’

Daisy looked round for a jug and found only an old soot-blackened saucepan hanging above the empty grate. She took it without a word and went outside to the communal pump only to find it frozen solid. There was only one answer and that was to collect fresh snow, but without a fire it would take hours to melt as the interior of the cottage was only a degree or so warmer than outside. Daisy retraced her steps, slipping and sliding on the frozen ground. Nick was tucking his stethoscope into his medical bag and he looked up, his expression grim.

‘I’m going to take Mrs Noon to Creek Hall, if she’ll agree to leave her cottage.’