A series of thuds and shouts from upstairs interrupted her reverie. Harriet sighed. She ought to have known the boys would not keep to their spelling and numbers for long, despite the promise of a magic lantern show if they applied themselves. She would set them straight and visit Polly.

Her aunt was sewing, too, stitching into shape a series of knitted garments for the children of the poor. Polly had started on this after the flood, when Harriet told her she had donated all the clothing they could spare for the poor souls who had lost everything. Polly enjoyed knitting and sewing tiny jackets and bonnets and boots for babies, to be delivered to the workhouse for distribution. The plain work was taken on by Sadie, who complained mightily about the boys’ ability to wear holes in the seat and knees of their trousers on what she reckoned was a daily basis.

Sadie was sitting on the chair by the bed when Harriet entered.

‘Hello, Aunt. I’m restoring Mother’s embroidery and lost track of time. Shall I make some tea?’

Sadie swung her head from side to side, an affectation of world-weariness that set Harriet’s teeth on edge. ‘A young lady and her fancy work. I wish I had the hours in the day. It’s not me that’s getting wed to a rich gentleman though, is it? No need for me to get familiar with the finer accomplishments.’

Polly smiled, a thin-lipped smile that Harriet couldn’t interpret.

‘Yes please, I would like tea,’ she said. ‘Is Mr Boothby joining us tonight?’

It made no difference to Polly, who would have her dinner brought up to her on a tray, as usual. Walter ate very little and never left Alice’s room now. Harriet wondered how long it had been since her aunt and uncle saw each other. Polly never complained about his absence.

Harriet either ate with Mr Boothby in the dining room or had an early meal with the boys in the kitchen. On his most recent visit, Mr Boothby and Harriet had repaired to the parlour after supper and he had watched her read by the fire until she became uncomfortable and the words made no sense. He had waited for her to look at him and had laid his pipe aside.

‘I wish you to call me by my Christian name, as my late wife did,’ he said. ‘I think it would be appropriate.’

She had nodded.

‘I should like to hear you say it.’

‘Of course. Albert.’

It felt alien on her tongue.

‘And you will end your association with that girl.’

Harriet cast about, trying to think who he might mean. ‘Louisa?’

‘Yes. We shall find you new friends who are not of the servant class. Do you know, Walter does not approve of your friendship either. It doesn’t do. They begin to take advantage when it comes to discussion of wages and suchlike.’

Harriet had been stung, but was determined not to show it. ‘As you wish, Mr… Albert. I have to say that Louisa has been a good friend to me.’