‘I can help you.’

‘Thank you, dear, but I need to do things my way, and I’ll get the village girl to help. She has to learn our ways.’

‘You mean Linnet. She has a name, Aunt.’

‘I don’t want to be too familiar. Servants get above themselves in such a situation.’

‘You call Hattie by her Christian name.’

‘Hattie has been with me for twenty years or more, and I don’t want to lose her. Anyway, I know how to handle my servants, thank you, Daisy. Why don’t you wrap up and go for a walk? Get to know the area, and if you see your uncle tell him to keep away from the river-bank. He can’t swim.’ Eleanora left the room and Daisy was able to finish her breakfast in peace.

She was about to clear the table when Linnet appeared, carrying a tray. ‘I’ll do that, miss. Your aunt sent me.’

Daisy knew better than to argue. ‘Thank you.’ She hesitated in the doorway. ‘I seem to have nothing to do so I thought I’d walk to Creek Hall and fetch my brother. Which way is it?’

‘Creek Hall is on the edge of the wood overlooking the saltings. Just follow the creek.’

‘The saltings?’

‘It’s a salt marsh that’s covered by the sea at high tide. It’s not the place to go walking unless you know the area well.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not that adventurous, but I will take a stroll.’

Having left Linnet to do her work Daisy retrieved her bonnet and cape from the row of pegs in the entrance hall before setting off. The sun was shining and the threat of more snow seemed to have passed, but the bitter east wind made her eyes water. The ground was uneven and she had to take care not to trip over the ridges created by wagon wheels or to step into the ruts filled with snow melt. Despite the chill, the air was bracing and the sun’s rays reflected in the water, trapping the pale blue of the winter sky in the ripples, although as she approached the woods the shadows grew longer and the water lost its sparkle, appearing muddy and menacing. Daisy walked on, wrapping her woollen cape tightly around her. She quickened her pace and it was a relief to come out into the open where the saltings stretched out in front of her in a mass of vegetation growing haphazardly like a jigsaw puzzle tossed into the brackish water.

To her left she spotted Creek Hall, standing on its own at the edge of the wood with an uninterrupted view of the salt marsh. Sea birds circled overhead, mewing and crying like lost souls, while others waded in the shallow water, probing the mud with their long beaks in the search for food.

As she drew nearer she could see that the carriage sweep was losing the battle with couch grass and weeds, and some of the windowpanes in the upper floor were missing, but there was something about the warm red bricks of the Tudor house that spoke of permanence and solidity – two factors that appealed strongly to Daisy. She trod the gravel path, avoiding the patches of fast-melting snow, and went to knock on the door. After a while it was opened by a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Linnet.