The bells ringing out from the Church of Immanuel in the village of Feniscowles set her heart beating faster. The time was upon her.

‘Stay still now, so I can fix your veil, lass. Eeh, you’re like a child on Christmas Eve.’

‘Are you ready, Margaret? Come along, the bridesmaids should have left by now. What are you . . .?’

Her father’s voice trailed off as she appeared at the top of the stairs. Tears filled his eyes. Unbeknown to him, Mags had chosen to replicate her mother’s wedding gown. Made from cream silk, the gown fitted the curves of her body, before flaring out in mermaid style – ankle-length at the front, it flowed into a trail behind her. A simple coronet of pearl daisies held her long veil in place, and around her neck she wore her mother’s single-strand pearl necklace. Her bouquet had been fashioned from snowdrops and larkspurs, the exact colour of Betsy’s frock, which was an empire-line style that suited her figure so well.

‘Eeh, I feel like a princess,’ she’d exclaimed after she’d slipped the frock on, and she looked like one, too. Her curls caught the sun beaming through the window, highlighting the redness in her chestnut hair.

Betsy’s three little girls – Rosie, three; Florrie, five; and Daisy, six – were already downstairs. They were dressed in long, cream silk dresses and looked a picture. Each had their mother’s hair colour and big blue eyes: they were adorable, or at least they were when they were on their best behaviour.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, her father took Mags into his arms. His face was now wet with his tears. ‘You look just like your mother, darling.’

‘I wanted her to be part of today, Daddy. I didn’t want to upset you.’

‘You haven’t. You’ve warmed my heart.’

‘Come on, Mags . . . Oh, I mean Miss Margaret. I need a hand with me hat.’

Coming out of her father’s arms, Mags laughed as she pinned Betsy’s hat on, and had to admire how beautiful she looked. The hat gave Betsy sophistication, being wide-brimmed and in a curved style that took the brim lower at the side and finished with a cluster of feathers entwined with pearls where it dipped at the front. It was lovely.

‘Well, well – you look very nice, Betsy.’

‘Ta, Mr Witherbrook. I feel grand as owt.’

They all laughed at this.

‘Well, off you go, and take your lovely little brood with you. The second carriage is for you, but you should arrive a few minutes before we do, so hurry along.’

Left alone with her father, Mags had a moment when she so longed for her mother to be by her side. But determined not to spoil the day by giving in to her grief, she gave a wide smile at her father. ‘Well, this is it. The day you give me away, Daddy.’

‘Yes, darling. And the day I enter into a conspiracy with you. I’ll always be there for you, darling, and together we’ll tame this young man you’ve chosen. And once we do, then I know you will have a very happy marriage. Your love for him will see to that.’