‘He’s not done owt wrong,’ she hissed quietly, mindful of the hour.

One of the constables laughed. ‘Oh, he has. This one’ll be charged with grievous bodily harm, might even be manslaughter if the gentleman doesn’t recover.’

Silas gasped. ‘I ’aven’t…’

‘Shut your gob.’ His arm was squeezed again, painfully. ‘Don’t struggle, lad, or you’ll be getting more than a split lip.’

Silas dropped his head.

‘That’s better.’

‘Sorry, Mrs Broomhead.’ The other constable gestured to the door. ‘Lock up tight, now. You never know who’s abroad. At least we’ve got this vagabond off the streets for thee, eh?’

Chapter 32

Harriet leaned against the bannister, gripping the bowl of soapy water tightly with both hands as she descended. She was halfway down when the front door opened and Mr Boothby strode into the porch, dropping his umbrella in the stand as if he was the master of the house.

‘My dear!’ He bounded up and took the bowl from her.

‘Thank you.’ Harriet shook her wrists in relief. ‘I’m sure I would have dropped it. Would you mind carrying it through to the scullery?’

‘You should not be doing a maid’s work,’ he called over his shoulder as she followed him to the back of the house. He was practically skipping with glee.

‘I was helping Uncle to wash,’ she said warily. ‘You seem to have all the joys of spring in your step, Mr Boothby.’

He tipped the contents of the bowl into the scullery sink. ‘Is Walter up to a visit today?’ He didn’t wait for her reply. ‘I have news. That ruffian has been arrested and locked up.’

A chill ran through her. ‘What ruffian?’

‘Come, come. You know exactly who I mean.’

He shepherded her back down the hallway and into the front parlour.

‘Please, sit.’

She did.

‘That boy who attacked your uncle. He’s reflecting on his sins in the cellar of the constable’s house where they stow the drunks and the harlots – excuse my language – which is where he belongs. He’ll be taken to the town hall cells and then he’ll be charged.’

Harriet folded her hands in her lap. She would show a calm demeanour and not give him the satisfaction of witnessing her fear, or rising anger. ‘Mr Boothby, I hope you did not give a mistaken impression of events? Silas did not attack my uncle. He’s just a boy…’

‘He’s eighteen. Old enough to swing.’

‘Swing?’

‘A grievous assault. An attempted murder.’

Harriet laughed. ‘You are not serious? This misunderstanding must be rectified. My uncle…’

‘Is gravely ill.’

‘From floodwater on his lungs. Not from his injuries.’

‘Injuries inflicted by the boy…’

‘Injuries he sustained in a fall from coughing.’

‘Why are you defending someone so far beneath you?’

‘Silas is a friend.’

‘Then you should choose your friends more wisely.’ He looked around the room. ‘The new maid could do a better job. Where is she?’

‘Sadie is with my aunt.’

‘And your cousins?’

‘They are on the common.’