‘Yes. He is in partnership with his uncle. He intends to take more of an interest – as he did during the war – once he has all his affairs at home sorted out and he moves up from London to live here.’

‘That will be a good solution for you, because obviously he will take over the running of your family mill, too, and then you can be the lady of this house.’

This touched a nerve with Mags. ‘Dr Lange, for one thing, my mother isn’t dead yet and is still the lady of this house; and for another, I will continue to run the mill once I am married. I am not the kind of woman who will leave everything of a business nature to my husband.’

A cough from her father made Mags realize that she’d spoken too harshly.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.’

‘No, no. It was good to see your old spirit back in you. Ha, you’ve always been independent-minded. Your father tells me that you have an excellent business head on your shoulders. Let’s hope your husband is just as forward-thinking as your parents are.’

Would Harold consent to her carrying on at the mill? Mags knew one of the fears she harboured was that he wouldn’t; but she hadn’t let that fear take root, as she felt she could manage the situation, if that was the case. She knew Harold well; and yes, she knew that part of his motive for marrying her was to get a foot on her father’s mill. So why, then, was she going through with it?

Love, that’s why. For some inexplicable reason – and despite all she knew about him – she loved Harold. Needed him. And wanted to be his wife.

‘Well, I’ll get off.’ The doctor walked towards the door. ‘Belinda will sleep for at least another two hours. I will have a nurse here by then. Have you a room near Belinda’s that you can make available for the nurse? She will need to sleep here and be on call twenty-four hours a day.’

‘We have, Doctor. But I can help. I am a competent nurse, and I want to care for my mother when I come home from the mill.’

‘An excellent idea. You are a good daughter, Margaret.’

Mags felt a blush spreading over her face. The doctor always made her feel like a little girl who needed praise, but then he could also be cutting, with a remark like her needing to take on a woman’s role – almost as if he hated anyone stepping away from the norm. Even when he’d spoken of the woman psychiatrist that he’d wanted to refer Mags to, he had been derogatory in saying she might need guidance in how to approach those suffering from the effects of war.

As her father closed the door on the doctor, leaving the maid to see him out, he turned to her. ‘That was a big sigh, Margaret.’