This thought unsettled Mags, as she remembered that Flors had hinted more than once that there was something going on between one of her mother’s maids and Harold. Susan. Yes, that was her name. Surely not . . . No, I couldn’t bear it.

Harold cut into her thoughts. ‘Can’t the driver go faster than this? It’s taking an age and I, for one, am ready for a stiff drink. It was freezing in that churchyard.’

There was no tenderness in Harold’s words now, only irritation. This cut into Mags. ‘Harold, you won’t tackle Father today, will you? He’s not well. He’s in deep mourning.’

‘Well, I was rather hoping to. Really, darling – he’s a man, he understands these things. He’ll expect me to be anxious. The sooner our names are joined, the better.’

‘Is that all our marriage is to you: a joining of our names?’

‘Don’t be silly. I can only assume you are behaving as you are because you are upset. I understand that, but yes, the joining of assets is a big part of any marriage, as well as the love that two people have for one another. Both are a big consideration for me, and should be for you, too. Once we marry, I will head the largest cotton mill in the area, as your father is no longer able to run Witherbrook’s mill, and it sounds as though it is time that I pensioned off my uncle from Roford mill.’

‘Oh? I don’t think that will be necessary. You do know that I head Witherbrook’s mill, don’t you?’

‘Only as a convenience, surely? Once you are my wife, your father and I will take the reins jointly for a while, and then he will hand over to me. That is the natural way of things. I will head both factories. And I imagine that you will be proud of me doing so.’

‘I don’t want to discuss this now, Harold, please. I have a headache, and I will be expected to host the wake for my mother, when my heart is breaking at her loss. I do have more to say on the matter, but we’ll talk tomorrow or the next day.’

‘I’m sorry, but we must get this clear. There will be no talking about it. As my wife, you will do as I say. That is the way of things, and the way I mean to begin and to carry on. You will be at home, making sure all is running smoothly for me. I intend to host my first hunt on Boxing Day, and I will rely on you to make sure all of that is in place for me and runs well. It will be my introduction to local society.’

Mags felt too exasperated and unhappy to respond. What local society he imagined he was joining, she had no idea. The very word conjured up lords and ladies, of which there were very few in the area. Yes, there was a meet that she belonged to, but that hunt was made up of mill owners and their sons and wealthy landowners. Their gatherings took place at the White Horse Inn in Turton, about eight miles from her home – wonderful occasions, from the first sip of the warming stirrup cup to the exhilarating chase, and the gathering at one or other of the meets’ houses for a hot lunch and lashings of beer or port. The only part Mags didn’t like was the kill. A caring person, she never took part in this final act, but pulled away and galloped off to a place where she could wait for the rest to catch up with her. She smiled as she remembered that the first person to do so was always Jerome Cadley – her childhood sweetheart.