On Monday morning Norris and his mother took an early train to Swindon. She grumbled intermittently as the train rattled along, seeming to have no belief in the chance of them finding that Harriet had inherited anything of value, let alone the money he craved.

‘She couldn’t have, Norris. Her mother had nothing except a few mouldy old books.’

Later, she said, ‘Son, I’m sure it was all stories that mother of hers made up.’

And later still, ‘Them Latimers didn’t come to James’s funeral, did they, so why would they leave Harriet anything?’

Her son made soothing noises each time and let her talk. He felt sure there would be something for them. He was developing a nose for money.

Outside the lawyer’s office she stopped to ask, ‘Is my hat on straight?’

‘Yes. But Lloyd won’t care if it’s crooked.’

‘I’ll care.’

‘Well, it’s straight, though why you want to wear such a huge thing, I don’t know. It was ridiculous, going out and buying that specially to come here.’

‘It’s fashionable, what ladies are all wearing. It makes me feel I can face them.’ She patted the hat self-consciously.

‘Come on, then, Lady Winifred.’ He offered his arm and led the way in, saying in a low voice, ‘Move slowly and try to look confident.’

This time an elderly clerk was stationed in the outer office. ‘May I help you … sir, madam?’

‘I’ve got an appointment with Mr Lloyd,’ Norris said.

‘Your name, please?’

‘Harding.’

‘Ah, yes. Mr Lloyd said he was expecting you.’

The clerk’s words might be polite, but his expression was that of a person who can smell something rotten. ‘If you’ll take a seat, I’ll tell Mr Lloyd you’re here.’

Norris debated pushing his way into the office, as he had last time, just to show he wasn’t going to be condescended to, but decided against it. He’d give things a try the legal way first, using polite words and acting slowly. But he wasn’t going to be patient for long.

He glanced up at the clock. He wasn’t going to let them keep him waiting for long, either.

There was the sound of footsteps and a burly man came out of the inner corridor. He looked towards Norris and his mother. ‘Mrs Benson? Mr Harding?’

Norris stood up. ‘Yes.’

‘Mr Lloyd will see you now. This way, please.’

Norris held out his arm to his mother, but the gesture was spoilt by the corridor being too narrow for them to walk side by side, so he gestured to her to go first, wishing she didn’t look so nervous and wasn’t wearing such a silly hat.

The man led them into the office and Mr Lloyd stood up, staying behind the desk.

I rattled him last time, Norris thought gleefully. ‘This is my mother, Mrs Benson, Harriet’s guardian. Mother, this is Mr Lloyd.’

He gave them a tiny nod, but didn’t come out from behind the desk to offer his hand. ‘Please take a seat.’

The man who’d escorted them in pulled out a chair for the lady, but left Norris to fend for himself. When they were both seated, the fellow went to stand to one side of the desk, arms folded, scowling at them.

Bodyguard, Norris decided. I could beat him easy, though.

The lawyer’s tone was icy. ‘Before we discuss anything, do you have proof that you’re Harriet’s guardian, Mrs Benson?’

Winifred scowled at him. ‘I’ve got proof that I married her father, which made me her stepmother. What other proof do you need?’

‘Proof that you were appointed her guardian.’

‘First time I’ve heard you need proof to look after your own children.’

‘That’s the point. She’s not your child. May I see your marriage certificate?’

She fumbled in her bag and produced the brand-new envelope they’d bought to put the certificate in, leaning forward to slap it down on the desk. ‘Be careful how you handle that. It means a lot to me.’

Norris hid a smile. His ma was angry at the way Lloyd was looking down his nose at her and had lost her nervousness. Good.

Reginald made a big play of studying the marriage lines and showing them to the bodyguard. ‘I’ll just write down the details.’

He seemed to take a long time to do that, Norris thought.

The lawyer eventually gave the marriage certificate back to Mrs Benson. ‘Do you have a copy of your husband’s will?’

‘He didn’t leave one.’

‘Then some proof that you inherited his estate.’

‘I don’t have any proof, I just did. He was my husband, so everything came to me. No one else to inherit, was there? Anyway, that’s all water under the bridge now. What’s that got to do with Harriet?’

‘You weren’t actually appointed her guardian, so I’ll need to consult my client about your claim, and also ask advice from other lawyers.’

‘Her wages were sent to me by Mr Dalton, weren’t they? That’s proof he accepted me as her guardian, if anything is.’

‘Not if someone else ought to be her guardian. In fact, if that were the case, you might not be entitled to the wages and might have to return them.’

‘What? I’ll not—’

Norris put a hand on his mother’s arm to stop her saying anything else. He was getting fed up of this. He leant forward, but to his annoyance, that caused the big fellow to take a step forward and scowl at him.

He leant back again. It would do their case no good to make trouble today, that was sure. They had to tread softly, use the law to get what they wanted. ‘Go on,’ he told the lawyer. ‘What happens then?’

‘As I said, I shall have to consult Miss … er, Benson. When I saw her a while ago, she said she didn’t need a guardian, and let’s face it, she’s nineteen now and can support herself, so I see no need, either.’ He stood up. ‘Perhaps you could come back next week?’

‘We’ll be back tomorrow,’ Norris said.

‘Then you’ll be disappointed. I have other clients I need to look after and your stepsister doesn’t live in Swindon. Monday of next week would be better.’

‘Friday. That’s the latest I’ll accept.’

‘It’ll have to be Saturday. I have a court case on Friday.’

‘Very well. But don’t try to postpone it. We’ll be here on Saturday.’

Norris let the snooty sod of a lawyer have them shown out by the big fellow and didn’t speak till they were standing outside. ‘We’re going to have to see a magistrate in the end, Ma. He’s playing for time. Since we’re here now, we’ll ask around and make sure we know where to find one if we get no satisfaction next time.’

‘You’re letting him delay things.’

‘I’m letting people see we’ve been reasonable.’

She snorted in disgust.

He offered his arm again and they began walking. ‘You did well in there, Ma.’

She sniffed. ‘It’d take more than a stuffed shirt like him to frighten me. Come on. Let’s find somewhere we can get a meal and a pot of tea. I’m famished and this hat’s given me a headache.’

The following day, Norris went back to the public library and asked to see the Swindon directory again.

He scowled as he sat down. If there was one thing he hated, it was books. Smelly, dusty ones like this especially.

But he felt even more sure there was money to be had from Harriet, or else why would that lawyer be delaying things? So he went through the directory carefully, searching for the word Latimer. He didn’t find it.

The librarian looked down his nose at Norris as he complained you could never find something when you wanted it. ‘You could try one of the directories for the county of Wiltshire. If this family you’re looking for isn’t living in Swindon, their name won’t be in the Swindon directory, will it?’

Another damned book to go through. But the librarian was right and this time Norris found what he was looking for.

The rest of the entry was double Dutch to Norris, but he copied down the names Challerton and Greyladies, and sat back smiling. He knew where she was now. Where else would she have gone but to her mother’s family? It sounded as if they were worth a lot, too.

Maybe he should go to this Challerton and have a look around on the quiet. Yes, that’s what he’d do.

He went up to the counter and handed in the book. ‘Thanks. That was very helpful. Now I wonder if you can help me find out where a village called Challerton is on the map?’

The man’s scorn softened a little. Everyone liked to feel superior, Norris thought, even a scrawny old muffin-face like this one.

They pored over a map and found Challerton, a tiny place by the size of the dot and the name which you had to squint at to read. That wasn’t good if he wanted to find out about Harriet. In small villages everyone knew everyone else’s business and they might mention seeing him.

‘I’ve been to Challerton,’ the librarian said. ‘Years ago, it was. I’d forgotten till I saw it on the map. My cousin and I were out hiking and it was a hot day, so we called in for a bottle of lemonade at the village shop and went to look at the ruins of the abbey. Not much left to see, so we didn’t stay long. There’s a big house, Greyladies – is that the one you’re looking for? Yes, well, it’s a private home, so you can’t go and look round it, so you’re wasting your time.’

‘It’s a big house, then?’

‘Oh, yes. And old.’

‘Greyladies is a strange name for a house.’

‘Used to belong to the abbey and the nuns wore grey habits, the shopkeeper told us.’

‘Habits? How can you wear habits?’

The librarian sighed. ‘That’s the name for nuns’ clothing. You’ve seen nuns?’

‘Ah. Long, black frocks and sort of hoods over their hair.’

‘That’s it. Their clothes are called habits. Only these nuns wore grey ones, not black.’

‘How did you get to Challerton?’

‘We walked, of course. That’s what hikers do.’

‘I see. Well, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.’

He wasn’t bloody walking, Norris thought as he left the library. He’d go to Swindon on Wednesday and find a way to get to this Challerton place. He could pretend he was there to look at the abbey and ask a few questions.

If it was that big, Harriet couldn’t have inherited the house, but she might have got a cottage in the grounds. There were all sorts of possibilities if you had rich relatives. Perhaps they would pay him and Ma to leave her with them.

It’d be good if she’d inherited some money or valuables. In that case, he’d force her to come back home with him and Winifred. He’d have to work out the best way to make money out of this situation. You couldn’t take someone’s money out of the bank. You had to persuade them to give it to you. There were ways. There were always ways, if you weren’t too timid.

He’d tell his mother he was going to check out the place where Harriet was living, but he’d not tell her anything else, because she was a proper old gossip.

He smiled again. It was shaping up to be a very interesting week. He’d have to find someone to do his other jobs.

On Monday morning, Miss Bowers watched Harriet worrying herself sick about her lawyer’s meeting with Winifred and Norris. The poor girl couldn’t settle to anything, so in the end, Miss Bowers took her out for a brisk walk round the village, introducing her to the people there.

She was pleased to see that the new owner made a good impression. Harriet had an innate friendliness and personal charm, which were in contrast to Miss Agnes’s dignity. Not that Miss Agnes had been disliked. She hadn’t. But she’d always kept her distance.

Unless Miss Bowers much mistook the matter, the new owner would quickly endear herself to people with her shyness, frankness and sheer niceness.

Where she could, Miss Bowers spread the word that Harriet had some relatives trying to take advantage of her and asked people to watch out for strangers asking questions about the new owner of Greyladies. She made a particular point of asking Mr Pocock to pass that information on to his customers at the shop.

‘Do you really think so?’ When she nodded, he said in tones of disgust, ‘I can’t abide thieves and cheats. And she seems a really nice lass.’

‘She is.’

Joseph challenged Harriet to a chess game in the evening, but he won so easily, they soon abandoned the attempt to play.

He understood why she was so distracted. When Miss Bowers was out of the room, he took her hand. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise you.’

‘Will it? You don’t know Norris. I wouldn’t put anything past him, including murder.’ She raised his hand to rub her cheek against it and gave him a smile that curled through him like molten honey.

He couldn’t believe she cared for him. Was it really possible that he might find happiness with her?

So he had to kiss her again. And she kissed him back.

He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. And whatever his father or mother said, if she’d have him, he was going to marry her.

He could imagine nothing better than having her as his wife.

Tuesday was fine, the sun shining brightly, though a cool breeze reminded people that winter wasn’t long past. A letter arrived from Mr Lloyd by the afternoon post, written in haste, telling Harriet about the meeting with Norris and his mother.

She didn’t like the sound of that.

Before Harriet could spend the rest of the afternoon moping about this, a man rode up on horseback, a bald gentleman with a ruddy face. He dismounted with more agility than his plumpness suggested and stood looking round as if expecting something.

Miss Bowers, who had gone to peep out of the window, darted across the room and set the bell pealing for Flora, explaining, ‘It’s Mr Greenlow. He’ll expect someone to take his horse round the back. Let’s hope Mickey’s as good with horses as his father said.’

She turned to Harriet. ‘Mr Greenlow is the local magistrate. You need him on your side. He’s a good man.’

Flora reappeared in the doorway almost immediately. ‘I’ve sent Mickey round to take the horse. I’ll get Cook to make some tea once I’ve answered the front door, shall I?’

‘We’ll answer it. Mr Greenlow is an old friend of mine.’ Miss Bowers took Harriet to the front door and called out, ‘Good afternoon, Mr Greenlow.’

Mickey came panting round the corner of the house, stopped dead when he saw Mr Greenlow, then moved forward at Miss Bowers’ urgent beckoning signal.

‘That fool’s not going to try to shoe it, is he?’ the visitor demanded.

‘No. He’ll just give it a drink and see that it’s comfortable.’

Mickey took the reins and walked off beside the horse, murmuring to it.

‘Let me introduce you to Miss Latimer, the new owner. Harriet, Mr Greenlow is one of your new neighbours.’

He turned back to Harriet. ‘Sorry. I’m being rude and ignoring you.’ He bounded up the steps. ‘Pleased to meet you, my dear young lady, very pleased.’ He pumped her hand vigorously then studied her openly. ‘You have a look of the Latimers.’

‘So Miss Bowers tells me. And of course there are the portraits. I can see the resemblance in them myself, my hair colour for one thing.’

He laughed. ‘Gloomy old things, aren’t they, those paintings? Probably need a good clean.’

‘Please come into the sitting room and let me introduce you to Joseph Dalton, my good friend.’

‘Joseph’s staying in the old part of the house till he can find himself a home of his own,’ Miss Bowers put in quickly. ‘We’re very happy to have the old place occupied.’

Mr Greenlow frowned at this. ‘They said you had a young fellow staying, but no one’s set eyes on him in the village.’

She lowered her voice. ‘Mr Dalton has a problem walking. Don’t be surprised by the wheelchair.’

‘Oh. I see.’ His face lost its suspicious look.

When they went into the sitting room, they found Joseph standing up next to his wheelchair. After the introductions were made, he moved it across the room and sat down.

‘Have a fall, did you?’ Mr Greenlow trumpeted.

‘No, sir. I was born with a bad hip.’

‘Shame, eh. But you look healthy enough otherwise.’ He turned back to Harriet. ‘Now, tell me about yourself, my dear. You’ll excuse an old man’s curiosity, I’m sure.’

She wasn’t sure what to tell him, feeling rather shy of this loudly confident old gentleman, but as he began to draw her out, she quickly realised that for all his gruffness and blunt way of speaking, he was of a kindly disposition.

With the help of his questions, she managed to summarise her life, and in doing so soon came to realise that he was a clever man beneath that bluff exterior. No wonder he was a well-respected magistrate.

‘It’s always good to know about your neighbours. I used to breed horses and do a bit of farming, but I leave that to my son now. Four sons we have, nice lads, too. Well, they’re not lads now, got children of their own, but I still call them my lads.’

‘How lovely to have a family. I don’t have anyone now.’

He heaved himself to his feet. ‘I can’t stay long today, but my wife wanted me to invite you and Miss Bowers to take tea with us. Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps? If you’d care to join us, Mr Dalton, I can send the carriage.’

Behind their visitor’s back, Miss Bowers nodded vigorously at Joseph, so he accepted the invitation.

When Mr Greenlow had left, Miss Bowers said thoughtfully, ‘I’m glad he came today. Since he’s the local magistrate, I wanted you to meet him as soon as possible, just in case we need his help.’

‘He’s very … blunt spoken,’ Harriet said.

‘Yes. But he’s kind-hearted and he’d help anyone in trouble, and often does. Never be afraid to ask his help.’

‘I’m praying we won’t need it. Surely Mr Lloyd will find a way to prove that Winifred isn’t my guardian.’

‘I don’t think that’ll be easy, dear. You are under twenty-one, after all, and this is a big inheritance for someone so young. Still, Mr Lloyd seems to be on your side, at least.’

But what if he couldn’t do anything about the situation? Harriet wondered. She’d have to run away and stay hidden for two years.

She’d have to leave Joseph.

When Miss Bowers had gone off to find her embroidery, he said quietly, ‘If you’ll take my advice, Harriet, you’ll work out an escape plan now and even pack a few things. Just in case. You have money and I’m sure if you set your mind to it, you could stay hidden till you’re twenty-one. I’m certain Mr Lloyd would prevent them from getting hold of this place in the meantime.’

‘But I’ve only just come here. I don’t want to leave. And I don’t want to leave you.’ She could have wept at the mere thought of having to flee again, be on her own again.

‘I know. And I don’t want you to go. But we have to face facts. Don’t tell Miss Bowers what you’re planning yet. Don’t even tell me the details.’ He sighed and looked down at himself. ‘I’d come with you, but I’d only slow you down, and anyway, they’d easily trace someone in a wheelchair.’

Miss Bowers rejoined them just then. ‘We need to go and see the village dressmaker, my dear, and then go shopping in Swindon for materials. In your position, you need some better clothes.’

Harriet looked down at herself. ‘I don’t want to spend a lot of money yet … in case I need it for … something.’

Miss Bowers’ expression said she could guess what her companion meant, but she didn’t mention the possibility that Harriet might have to flee. ‘Remember the hiding place, if your stepbrother turns up unexpectedly. And before you do anything … um, rash, remember Mr Greenlow may be able to help. We’re going to tea there tomorrow, so you’ll know where he lives.’

‘I’ll remember.’

She had a fair idea why Miss Bowers wasn’t discussing things openly: so that she could swear on oath that she had known nothing about Harriet’s plans and didn’t know where she was.

Running away seemed the most likely outcome to all this. But oh, Harriet didn’t want to do that! She already loved living at Greyladies, waking up each morning in a spacious sunny bedroom. She had so many plans for improving the old place.

And Joseph was right. He couldn’t come with her. He’d be too easy to trace.

Life could be so unfair.