She took him to Norfolk market hall that sat in a wide space at the crest of a hill in the town, away from the factories and chimneys. ‘It’s all bleedin’ ’ills, this place,’ said Silas, sitting on the lip of an ornamental water fountain and scooping up water to splash on his face. He had brought her a posy of daisies and they scattered them in the fountain. They smiled at other people blooming like flowers in the sunshine. They found a bench to sit on and watched a boy drive sheep along the top of the road, holding up the traffic. Silas told her about his life on the farm and about his brother.

‘He were a bad ’un. Fisticuffs all day long.’

Harriet listened and when he fell silent she squeezed his arm. ‘You’re here now, away from all that. We’ll look after you.’

‘All o’ you? Or just thee?’

She blushed.

They went into the grand market hall where tall windows threw light onto the shops and stalls that filled the interior from end to end. He teased her about her enthusiasm for the ribbons and silks at a milliner’s shop after she exclaimed ‘Look at all the colours!’ He insisted on buying her a wide velvet ribbon she admired.

‘It’s a lovely colour,’ he said. ‘A bit like tha face when I say summat tha likes.’

And she had affected insult, but her heart was gladdened.

It was a Sunday and Harriet had turned up at Louisa’s with a pie she had baked. Her Sunday afternoon visits were a regular occurrence and any guilt she felt about leaving Polly to spend another day without company was alleviated by the sight of Silas playing tug with Shandy or drinking tea with Louisa and Millicent, and she knew he had been waiting for her arrival. Harriet’s cheeks always grew warm when he greeted her and she caught the looks exchanged between mother and daughter, but pretended not to.

Today would be different. Harriet arrived early, hoping to speak with Louisa before Silas turned up. She handed over the pie and dropped into an armchair.

‘You look sour enough to turn butter,’ said Louisa.

Harriet took a breath to calm herself. She couldn’t meet Louisa’s eye.

‘I have something to tell you.’ She fell silent.

‘Go on then. Am all ears.’

Harriet pleated her lips and waited for the urge to burst into tears to pass.

‘All right. Walter has told me I should marry Mr Boothby. It seems the two of them have reached an understanding.’

A brief conversation had decided her fate. Her uncle had sat her down in the parlour the previous day and told her what her future held. ‘This is your best prospect,’ he’d said. She had looked down, her eyes catching on the blood-stained handkerchief in his fist.

‘Do I have a say?’ she’d whispered.

‘No,’ Walter had replied bluntly. ‘This is a decision I have come to on your behalf.’

She related this to Louisa, who laughed. ‘Why, that’s…’ then stopped short. ‘What agreement?’