‘I know that you and Marlow mean well and have only my interests at heart… but in this particular instance, I must follow my instincts. Caleb Crowther is a bad one, Nelly. It wouldn’t seem right to let him go unpunished.’ Emma rose to her feet. Slightly older than Nelly, she made a very pleasing figure, slight and softly curved in an expensive dress of blue taffeta with pretty white ruffles at the throat and cuffs. Her long chestnut-coloured hair was exquisitely coiled into the nape of her neck, where it was secured by two dainty mother-of-pearl combs. When she moved, it was with a natural grace and elegance. Now, as she began walking away, Nelly also got to her feet and quickly took up her place beside Emma.

Content and comfortable in each other’s company, Emma and Nelly meandered through the garden, a lovely place of stately old trees and spreading shrubs already heavy with buds. At the farthest end, away from the house, there was a small orchard bursting with fruit trees of all descriptions. The entire garden was surrounded by a wall six feet high and supporting every kind of climbing flower imaginable: the beautiful cascading wisteria, the heavily scented jasmine, clematis, rambling roses and many more. One or two had already begun to open their buds in the April sunshine, but the whole magnificent panorama of colour and perfume would not be evident until mid-summer, when Emma would spend many contented hours in her favourite spot, the small paved area which was bound on three sides by tall, elegant spruce trees. In its middle was a small pond teeming with life, two fancy wrought-iron benches and a circular table. It was in this place that Nelly had found her just now.

From here, Emma could look across the garden and through the tall, wide gate with its open network of railings and scrolls. Beyond the gate was Corporation Park, an undulating expanse of green lawns and wide open spaces, the sight of which filled Emma’s heart with nostalgia. It was here, in this lovely old house, that Emma had spent a good deal of her childhood with her beloved father, Thadius Grady. On returning to England, she had been delighted to see that the house on Park Street was up for sale. It seemed like the hand of Fate to her. She and Marlow had bought it, restored it to its former glory, and Emma spent many precious hours wandering from room to room and picturing herself as a child running free within its walls; a child without a mother, but cherished by the father who adored her, and cossetted by the unforgettable Mrs Manfred, who had come to be her nanny. It was in this house that Emma had known great happiness, then heartache when her father had told her of his plan to live at Breckleton House with the Crowther family.

Now, as Emma dwelt on these unpleasant memories, the pain was too much. Thank God for my own family, she thought, and for such a loyal friend as Nelly.