When Emma’s mother had died in tragic circumstances, and later, when her father Thadius was gravely ill and brought Emma to live with him in this house, both Agnes and Martha had set about making Emma’s life miserable.

After her brother’s death, Agnes Crowther vented all her bitterness on Emma, not protesting at Martha’s spiteful treatment of the girl, nor intervening when Emma was so unsuitably married off. All along, Agnes had suspected that her husband had deliberately planned to cheat Emma, yet she had not once argued on Emma’s behalf. Not even when she realized that Caleb had played a hand in the verdict that demanded Emma’s transportation as a convict.

For a long, uncomfortable moment it seemed as though Agnes Crowther might read the letter. But then she lifted her hand and joined it with the other at her breast, the fine bony fingers pointed upwards in that posture of prayer which had long been a familiar and peculiar trait of her unbending character. ‘I will not demean myself by reading that mischievous letter, and thereby giving credence to Emma Grady’s vindictive proposals.’

‘You will read it!’

‘I will not!’

‘What are you saying, woman… that you refuse to support me in this bitter fight with Emma Grady? You seem to conveniently forget, my dear, that she is after all your kith and kin. And, more importantly, that the inheritance she now lays claim to should by rights have been left to you in the first place. Why your father struck you out of his will in favour of your younger brother, Thadius, is quite beyond me!’

‘No doubt he had his reasons,’ came the curt reply. She could have reminded him that the main reason she had been so cruelly disinherited was because she had stubbornly rebelled against her father’s strong disapproval of Caleb Crowther. ‘The man is little more than a fortune hunter,’ he had warned his daughter, ‘but mark my words… I will see to it that he never gets his hands on a penny of my money!’ Agnes Crowther had loved her father. But, much to her later regret, she had loved Caleb more. She smiled now at the bitter irony of it all, because even though Thadius had been the main beneficiary in their father’s will, he had foolishly appointed Caleb as trustee and executor of his estate. As Caleb had so often remarked in the months following Thadius’s passing, ‘I could not have planned it better myself… see how conveniently the inheritance has fallen into my lap.’ When the mills were later foreclosed by the banks and the money almost gone, Caleb had felt no regrets for Emma, who by now was ‘safely’ out of the way. His only concerns were these: that he should salvage enough money from the failing textile business to forge a new company in his own name, which would serve to finally sever the links between himself and Emma Grady, and that he should cover all traces of his illegal acquisition of Emma’s fortune. He had believed himself to be cunning and thorough. But now, with Emma returned, vengeful and determined to expose his treachery, he had been made wary and afraid. Yet he was equally determined that she would not beggar him. He would see her ruined first. Or dead! There was no remorse in Caleb Crowther’s heart for the callous way in which he had treated Emma Grady. Only hatred, and now a deep haunting fear that would not go away; he despised himself for harbouring such fear. After all, she was only a woman, however rich and influential she had become.