‘When may we come?’ the woman asked.

‘Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?’ Sunday suggested.

‘Oh, yes please! We could manage that, couldn’t we, darling?’ Stella Dawes turned to her husband.

‘Certainly,’ he agreed, and they all then made their way back downstairs. Once they had arranged a time, the couple saw Sunday and Tom to the front door and said their goodbyes. Tom helped Sunday up into the Daimler then collected the starting handle, and going round to the front of the car, he inserted it and gave it a few hefty swings until the engine purred into life. Then they were off as the Dawes waved to them.

As he steered the car towards home, he commented, ‘You’re very quiet, pet.’

Sunday sighed. ‘Sorry, I just feel … Oh, I don’t know. What did you think of them?’

‘I thought they were quite charming, so stop worrying,’ he chided gently. He knew how much his wife cared about the children in their care and how hard it would be for her to let one of them go, but even so he believed it would be in the child’s best interest.

‘Hmm, I’m not so sure now,’ Sunday answered, hanging on to her hat. ‘Didn’t you feel they were a little … reserved?’ she shouted above the roar of the engine, wishing again that they’d come in the pony and trap. It was almost impossible to have a conversation in this dratted automobile.

‘What?’ Tom shouted back and Sunday lapsed into silence. Perhaps it would be better to wait until they got home to voice her concerns.

Chapter Five

Em’ly met them at the door and took their hats and coats when they arrived back at Treetops. Seeing the look on their faces, she said, ‘I’ll go and fetch you a nice cup of tea, shall I? You look frozen through.’

Sunday couldn’t help but notice the difference between her staff and those at the Daweses’ house in Witherley. Here it was hard to distinguish who was the mistress and who was the maid, which was just as Sunday liked it. But at the other house, it had struck her how all the staff crept about like shadows – as if they were afraid of bringing Mrs Dawes’s wrath down upon their heads. Could it be that the woman wasn’t quite as meek and mild as she made out?

As if he could read her mind, Tom stepped over to the fire and said, ‘All right then, madam, out with it! There’s obviously something worrying you.’

Sunday frowned as she gazed out of the window at the few children who had ventured out into the snow. The whole house was still in mourning for Zillah and it was unusually quiet.

‘You … you don’t think that Mr and Mrs Dawes are just trying to replace their dead daughter, do you?’

Tom looked shocked. ‘What a terrible thing to say,’ he scolded gently. ‘You of all people should know how strong a woman’s urge is to have a child.’ The second the words had left his lips, he could have bitten his tongue out as Sunday’s face fell and tears started to her eyes.