Daisy could have cried with relief. ‘My aunt wants me, sir.’

Tattersall caught her by the wrist. ‘You haven’t given me an answer, woman. I’m asking you to marry me. You won’t get another chance like this. Give me an answer now.’

‘I hardly know you,’ Daisy protested. ‘Let me go this instant or I’ll call out and my uncle will want to know why.’

‘Don’t be a fool. I’m offering you all this.’ He released her, making a gesture with his open arms. ‘You would share my good name and my wealth.’

‘I want neither,’ Daisy said stoutly.

‘You’re just saying that. I know that young ladies like to keep a gentleman in suspense.’

‘Daisy, do come and look at this lovely painting.’ Aunt Eleanor’s voice echoed up and down the long gallery, as if the subjects of the portraits were mocking her.

‘You couldn’t be more wrong, Squire. Please believe me when I say that I do not wish to marry you.’

‘You’ll change your mind,’ he called after her as she walked away. ‘I always get what I want.’

Chapter Eleven

Eleanora chattered volubly during the carriage ride home, but Daisy said little. She could think of nothing other than the squire’s insulting behaviour, and his assumption that she would be honoured by his proposal. The mere thought of an intimate relationship with him made her feel physically sick, and the fact that he had tried to blackmail her with the threat of evicting her aunt and uncle from their home made matters even worse. Oblivious to the fact that neither her husband nor her niece seemed to share her enjoyment of the evening’s entertainment, Eleanora continue to extol the virtues of Squire Tattersall and the grandeur of his house. Sidney answered in monosyllables when forced to respond, and Daisy closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

When she eventually lay down in her bed Daisy could not sleep. She found herself thinking of Julian and comparing his romantic proposal with the one she had received that evening from Squire Tattersall. She wondered if Julian ever thought of her now, or perhaps he was too busy establishing himself in his new profession. His rejection still hurt, but the pain had eased and perhaps it was more bruised pride than a broken heart. As they were unlikely to meet again she might never know her true feelings, and her dislike of Esmond Tattersall and anger at the way he had treated her was uppermost in her mind. The clock in the hall below struck midnight and sleep still evaded her. She decided to get up and go downstairs. A cup of cocoa might help her to relax, and she reached for her wrap.

She managed to avoid the fifth step from the bottom, which creaked loudly when trodden on in a certain place, and she tiptoed to the kitchen. The warmth from the range had permeated the whole room and Hattie had banked up the fire. All she would have to do first thing next morning was to riddle the embers and they would burst into flame. Daisy moved the kettle to the hob while she went in search of the cocoa tin, sugar and the milk jug, which was in its usual place on the marble slab in the larder. She had just settled down to sip the hot drink when she heard a noise outside. Someone was banging on the scullery door. She sat for a moment, hoping that whoever it was would go away, but the knocking became more insistent and she rose to her feet. She went to the door and hesitated, afraid of who might be demanding admittance at this ungodly hour, but curiosity got the better of her and she opened the back door.