‘Goodness me, it’s warm in here.’ He coughed. ‘You have a snug little place.’

‘“Little” being the word. It does the job,’ said Louisa drily, getting up from her seat by the fireplace. A dog leapt up, a sharp-eyed collie who bounded over, ignoring him, thankfully, to run in tight circles around Silas’s legs. Silas dropped his valise and crouched on his haunches. ‘Hello, girl. Time for me to round you up, eh?’

Gunson was crestfallen to have offended Louisa. ‘Young lady, I don’t mean to patronise.’

Charlotte gave him a look and turned to Louisa, smiling. ‘Your home is very convivial.’

This was the truth. Rocking chairs covered in plump cushions and colourful crocheted blankets were placed either side of the fireplace, with a three-seat settee that sagged in the middle facing the glowing coals. The room was a trove for knick-knacks – the dresser, the table and wall shelves all covered with ornaments, picture frames, candlesticks and lamps. Samplers and platework hung on the tacking paper that covered the walls. The room was very small. He could cross it in two strides to reach the closed door on the far wall.

To his relief, this door now opened and Millicent Leigh emerged, carrying a tray of breadcakes.

‘Good morning, Mrs Gunson, Mr Gunson. Or is it afternoon?’

‘Well, let’s see, Mrs Leigh.’ He consulted his pocket watch, glad for a task, however small. ‘It’s half past the hour of one.’

‘Will you have something to eat? There’s rabbit stew.’ Millicent put the tray on the hearth and turned to the dog, now sitting to attention, nose twitching. ‘Don’t you dare touch those, Shandy. Louisa, take Mr Gunson’s hat and cloak.’

‘We won’t stay long, Milly. We’ve got a train to catch,’ said Silas. ‘Me an’ Shandy.’

Gunson handed his hat and cloak to Louisa and finally raised his eyes to look at her. She had her mother’s startlingly blue eyes. Louisa smiled at him and turned away, throwing his cloak onto the back of the settee and casting about for somewhere to place his hat. She finally balanced it, cockeyed, on an unlit lamp and sat by Silas on the settee. ‘Mrs Gunson, will you sit with us?’

‘I’d be glad to,’ said Charlotte, and sat herself down on the other side of Silas.

‘My favourite ladies,’ he said.

‘I wish you wouldn’t go,’ Louisa said, tucking her arm into his.

Silas didn’t speak.

‘Mr Gunson,’ said Millicent. ‘Come and sit down here.’

He lowered himself into a rocking chair. ‘Thank you.’

It was discombobulating, being ordered about by his housekeeper. He wondered, now that Millicent lived out, how long it might be before Charlotte was forced to find a replacement. His wife had told him she was minded to increase Millicent’s wage, now she had rent and fuel to find, even though her hours at the Gunson residence were drastically reduced.

‘Have one!’ She gestured to the breadcakes. ‘Mrs Gunson?’

‘No, thank you. I had a late breakfast.’