Albert Boothby arrived two days later to pay his respects and Harriet showed him into the room where her uncle lay. He approached the coffin sideways, like a crab, and she was afraid she would laugh and then become hysterical. She pressed her fingers against her lips. Now she was overwhelmed by sadness and allowed tears to slip down her face. Mr Boothby wouldn’t notice her distress in the gloom. The curtains were drawn, as they were throughout the house, and all the mirrors had been covered at Polly’s insistence. And when Walter was taken out of the house to be buried, her aunt had instructed that the body must go feet first so that Walter could not beckon the living to follow him into death. Silly superstitions, but Polly must be indulged. As for Harriet, she would be relieved when Walter’s corpse was gone. There was nothing of him in the cold body laid out for all to come and see.

She had been doing some half-hearted gardening when Mr Boothby arrived. Now, she slipped out of the mourning room to wash her hands in the scullery. She was scrubbing her fingers with a nailbrush when he tracked her down.

‘I shall arrange for Walter to have an obituary in the Telegraph,’ he said.

He paused then, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to thank him for honouring her uncle with a notice in the paper. She rubbed her cheek, which was damp.

‘You have dirt on your face,’ he said. ‘Harriet, I thought you might be happier to see me. You must allow yourself to look to me for comfort now. I’m to be your husband and protector.’

‘I have been looking forward to your visit.’ She wondered whether she should broach the subject of delaying their impending nuptials, whether he would understand that she was suffocated by grief and needed space to breathe. She swallowed. ‘Albert, I…’

‘Look at this.’ He touched her face and showed her his dirt-streaked fingertips.

She let out a sigh. ‘It must be soot. I had some kept back for me when the chimney was last swept, to spread on the soil. I’ve been planting out, Albert.’ It still felt unnatural, saying his name. ‘Onions, asparagus, beets.’ She smiled gamely. ‘It cheers me, to grow things.’

‘Soot? I would have thought there’s more than enough of that in this town.’

Without warning, he took her chin in his hand, wet his finger and rubbed her cheekbone with it. ‘There’s a perfectly serviceable greengrocers not half a mile away. You’re doing the poor fellow and his family out of trade. Did you think of that?’ He kissed her firmly on the lips and stepped back. Harriet was stunned. She used the back of her hand to wipe away the spit he’d left on her cheek.

‘Come, Harriet,’ he laughed, clearly delighted with himself. ‘We are to be wed soon, in accordance with your dear uncle’s last wishes, joining our two families in blood as well as business. I think a kiss is permissible.’