‘Aye, well, I doubt she’ll be able to spare you long. Looks like the guest house is full and she’ll be busy.’

The front door wasn’t locked and Hubert opened it. Nathaniel followed him into the hall as he called, ‘Hello? Anyone here?’

Hubert had no sooner spoken than a thin, severe-looking woman came bustling out of what must be the kitchen at the end of the hall, wiping her hands on her apron. Her smile faded as she saw the two men. ‘I thought you were one of my guests. What are you doing here, Hubert?’

‘Just want a word, lass, that’s all.’ Hubert’s voice was meek and apologetic and Nathaniel assumed, rightly, that the man was somewhat intimidated by his frosty-faced sister. ‘This here gentleman is looking for Mary Shelton, or Rose as it seems now she’s called. He’s her husband and—’

Beattie’s glance went to the front room, from which came the sound of voices. Breakfast was finished and some of her guests were sitting having coffee in there. She didn’t want them being party to this conversation. Glaring at her brother, she said, ‘Come through to the kitchen.’

Nathaniel followed Hubert down the hall and into a large kitchen. A scrubbed table was piled with dirty dishes and it was clear Beattie had been washing up when they had interrupted her. Feeling he would have to use all his charm to thaw the woman out, he stitched his most appealing smile on his face and stepped forward, holding out his hand as he said, ‘The name’s Nathaniel Alridge, ma’am, and I’m sorry to bother you but I wondered if you could just spare me a minute or two? I would deeply appreciate it.’

There weren’t many women who could resist Nathaniel when he wanted to win them over and Beattie was no exception. Her astonished brother saw her face soften as a tinge of pink stained her cheeks, and she was definitely flustered when she said, ‘Of course, Mr Alridge. I – I was just clearing up after breakfast. I have a full house and the mornings are always hectic. Would – would you like to sit down?’ She was wiping her hand on her apron again and then shook Nathaniel’s, her blush deepening.

‘I won’t keep you, Mrs . . .?’

‘Harper. Beattie Harper.’

‘I won’t keep you, Mrs Harper, but I understand from your brother that you were kind enough to help a young woman with a child some time ago? I think that lady could possibly be my estranged wife. May I explain?’ He had decided on this story on the train. A husband held more clout than a friend.