*What is the worth of love? I offer her wealth and social standing. So stop dithering, you peevish man, and give me your word.'

*Don't think I don't know what you're after.'

Thurstan laughed, but reservedly. *To what do you imply?'

*I know. That is sufficient.'

*You know? My, we are overflowing with outlandish suppositions.'

*I know, I tell you, though I will not speak of it. Not yet. I stand firm. You shall not marry Rowan, not with my blessing.'

*I had hoped to speak with you on cordial terms. Now I see I will have to twist your arm, though that might prove difficult as you seem to have mislaid it.'

*What are you getting at?'

*Miss Agnes Clopton informs me that you are a regular visitor to the poorhouse, frequently taking in packages to favoured members of her establishment.'

*What of it?'

*It is a little matter of how you procured the funds to purchase such niceties. Recently, it has come to my intelligence that you have been embezzling monies from my uncle's business. As I also understand it, you have been pilfering my uncle's revenue to cram your cellar.'

Mr Grimley averted his eyes from Thurstan's penetrating stare. *I deny these accusations.'

*I would not recommend it. A neck is a delicate thing, even one as flabby as yours.'

Mr Grimley stared through the window. Grey clouds were massing.

*What will my sweet Rowan say when she discovers that she has a dishonest uncle?'

*I only did it to help those in calamitous circumstances. I admit that I buy liquor cheaply off smugglers, but I give most of it away to prisoners like Jim Quips who stole potatoes because he was starving. I am not dishonest.'

*I do not think that my uncle will agree when I inform him. So you see, my waspish fellow, you have no option other than to agree to my proposal.'

*I will think what is best to be done,' Mr Grimley answered gruffly.

*Do that, only don't take forever, I am ravenous, and so want Miss Grimley to hearken your good news.'

Quitting the house, Mr Grimley passed before the study window.

Once he was out of sight, Thurstan methodically opened drawers, drew out papers and scrutinised them. Catching a fleeting glimpse of the occupants of a cart which rattled below the window, his malicious grin fell.

Rowan spotted Thurstan stepping along the garden path in search of her, a glass of Madeira to hand. He looked livid.

Sweeping Turnips off his paws, she and Eppie scurried behind the shrubbery, and managed to get indoors without Thurstan having noticed them.

Priscilla knelt before the range, her face flushed with the effort of trying to get the fire to blaze. *Where is that girl? It's her job to tend the fire.'

*Have you seen uncle?'

Priscilla hung up the bellows. *He was having a row with Mr du Quesne. I heard the front door slam. I hope he won't be long; dinner's almost ready.'

*Thurstan has invited himself to dine with us,' Rowan told Eppie. *You'll stay and keep me company, won't you?'

*Of course.'

Rowan peered into the copper hanging over the fire. *Not mutton stew again?'

*We have to discourage Mr du Quesne from calling so regular, that's what you keep telling me,' Priscilla said. *I'm sure his French cook prepares him finer fare.'

*Good thinking.' Fitful flames burst from the slate-grey smoke. *Why is the fire smoking so?'

*Your uncle refuses to spend a farthing on the house. I can't remember the last time the fire was swept. It's asking for trouble, especially with this house mostly timber.'

A girl was heard singing the lyrics of Neptune's Raging Fury: *When the mainmast started, it give a dreadful stroke. In our starboard quarter, a large hole did it broke. The seas came battering in, an' our guns overflowed-id ...'

Loafer drained his glass. *I'd have thought Hix would've finished swabbing the decks by now.'

*That's not Sukey Hix, by any chance,' Eppie asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach, recalling her years of bullying by the girl.

*Why, yes,' Rowan answered. *Do you know her?'

*She used to live down our lane in Little Lubbock.'

Priscilla set off along the hallway to check on Sukey's progress. *She's only been here a few days and already I've had so much trouble with her. But what else can you expect on the wages your uncle pays? Since last summer I've had to dismiss five girls.' She pushed open the door to the poop deck and stood with her hands on her hips.

Eppie and Rowan peered around her.

Sukey lay on the window-seat in the sunshine, her face covered with a duster. Oblivious to her audience, she continued to sing: *Haul in a haul two a haul belay ...' Beside her stood a pail of water and a mop, both untouched.

*Sukey, you idle girl!' Priscilla upbraided. *I told you to scrub the floor, not sing about it.'

Sukey shrieked, startled at her discovery. She sprang to her feet and smoothed down her blue and white check dimity. *A'm doing me best!

*And I suppose doing your best includes putting that cheese cradle in Mr Grimley's bed instead of his stomach warmer last night, and ripping up the best linen for dusters? Leave the floor now and come and help me in the kitchen. Quick about it or we'll never be done. Mr du Quesne expects to dine in a few minutes not a few weeks.'

Sukey cast Eppie a sidelong, dour look as she departed, dragging her feet.

Eppie and Rowan settled on the window-seat, its daisy-patterned cushions dimmed from past summers' warmth.

Loafer came to raid the drinks cabinet, and returned to the kitchen.

Tasting the stew, Priscilla pursed her lips. *If Mr du Quesne isn't to guess that we're purposefully giving him a slapdash dish to get rid of him I'd better put something in it to liven it up.'

*One of my boots?' Loafer asked sourly.

Priscilla chuckled at his pert suggestion. *Fetch some garlic, Sukey.'

For Sukey this demand was too good to be true. Stepping into the larder, she was overcome by the delicious aroma of bake-meat pies. The storeroom was next to the poop deck and so she easily caught every word spoken between Eppie and Rowan. Plunging a finger into a meringue pie, she hooked a strawberry, quickly following this down with a slice of veal pie.

*Wouldn't it be simpler to tell Thurstan that you don't want to marry him?' Eppie asked Rowan.

*I'm afraid of annoying him. What I would really like is to tell him the truth, that I love Gabriel. Not that he has asked me to marry him.' Desolately, she added, *Eppie, it is so dreadful, even if Gabriel asks me to marry him I cannot accept.'

*That doesn't make sense, surely if you love him ...?'

*Uncle told me not to confide in anyone, even to Priscilla. Sometimes, though, I feel I will burst from keeping my secret. Gabriel is your friend, so I know you will understand. Shortly after I was born, I was forsaken. A note was sent to the poorhouse and a man came to fetch me. He found me, lying in a basket, beneath a rowan tree.'

Eppie was astonished by Rowan's words. *Don't you know who your parents were?'

*I know nothing about them. My uncle regularly visits those confined at the poorhouse. That was how I met him. As a young girl I was sent away to work in a seamstress's garret. I worked long hours in a cramped room with other girls, stitching lacy shirts and fine garments for the gentry. One evening, Mr Grimley turned up. He told me that he had been searching for me, and brought me here. You must think me a scoundrel for having kept this from you.'

*Not at all. Everyone has their secrets ... even I. But you must not be afraid to tell Gabriel about your upbringing.'

*I would rather maintain his friendship than tell him and lose him. Nor could I contemplate marrying him under a falsehood. One day he will inherit Tunnygrave Manor. If I married him and he found out about my past he would be mortified.'

*You know that's not like Gabriel. Only his father is obsessed about scandal. So, when Gabriel asks you to marry him and you refuse, what will he think? He'll be devastated. None of this makes sense.'

*I couldn't bear for him to know what I truly am.'

*What you truly are is a kind-hearted, gentle person. That's why Gabriel loves you.'

*I understand that but, although I am no longer destitute, I feel shabby, unworthy of him.'

After a moment's deliberation, Eppie said wistfully, *Folk aren't always what they appear. That's probably why we became friends; we can sense the anguish within one another. You have shown your true friendship by being honest with me. I, for my part, will share my story with you. You may tell Mr Grimley, but none other.'

In her astonishment at hearing Eppie's words, the raspberry tartlet dropped from Sukey's gaping mouth.

*This locket belonged to my sister. That's a little painting of her on the front.'

*She must have felt so hurt, knowing that her father despised her. But how can you bear to see Lord du Quesne at the mill, knowing that he's your father?'

*I shut him out.'

*Does Gabriel know you are his sister?'

*Cilla!' Loafer cried. *You seen this?'

*You wicked girl, you're pinching food!'

*No, I ain't!'

*With meringue stuck all over your chin I hardly think you can deny it. And what about these chew marks on this raspberry tart?'

A look of fear caught between Eppie and Rowan, each thinking the same thing. Had Sukey overheard them?

*Look at the maggots wriggling on this shelf!' Priscilla exclaimed. *I told you to get rid of them last night.'

*What maggots?' Sukey asked.

*You're not going to tell me that you know nothing about them? I saw you knock a handful out of that ham you fetched from the truck store, though I hasten to say that was after I'd served a generous portion to Mr Grimley for his dinner. Thank goodness Miss Rowan took herself straight off to bed without her meal. For nigh on two hours Mr Grimley sat on his pavilion-for-his-stools-of-ease, a-cursing with stomach cramps. Stop sniggering, Loafer. You too, girl. Here, take these to the kitchen. I could swear there was another slice of pie for Mr Grimley's supper.'

Back in the mill office, Mr Grimley swept his hand this way and that as if he believed the incriminating copy of the book of misdemeanours would simply materialise. Dizzy, he clambered down the stepladder and dropped into his chair. *So, you have won, Thurstan du Quesne. You will take Rowan from me.'

Acrid-smelling smoke belched from the kitchen into the hallway.

Coughing, Priscilla emerged, having retrieved the cauldron.

In Loafer's voice was a note of hilarity, revealing that he was not taking the disaster seriously. *Typical woman, the whole house might burn down and your only concern is to salvage Captain Grimley's dinner.'

Placing the stew on a side table, Priscilla shoved Sukey. *Skitter, fetch help! There's a sweep's cart standing before The Wolf and Child.'

Moments later, a man in soot-grained clothes, on his head a red woollen cap, galloped up the steps to the house. He was trailed by three climbing-boys. Turnips and Jack bounded around, thrilled by the commotion.

Eppie felt as though she would faint away with delight and astonishment. She pressed her sleeve to her mouth so that she might breathe more easily through the smoke. *Dawkin!'

He wheeled round. *Ep!' Grinning into her stunned face, he took her in his arms.

To have him near, to feel the warmth and sturdiness of his body sent a quiver through her.

Seeing her disfigured ear, a frown puckered his brow. *What's happened to you?'

*Fire!' Priscilla cried from further along the hallway.

*Oh, that, it was a long while ago, at Dank Cottage,' Eppie answered, mortified lest he think her ugly. *I exploded the jam.'

*You always were a little carefree with your cooking as I recall!'

She rushed on. *I thought you were living in London?'

*Fire!' Priscilla shrilled.

*I was. After I'd grown too big to climb chimneys I convinced Mr Crowe that it'd be better if I managed things so that he could take life easy. Really, I didn't want Brodie and the other boys to have to suffer years of bullying, like I'd endured.'

*Where's Wicker?

*I never saw her again, not after Mr Crowe grabbed me at the ice market.'

*Poor Wicker, I wonder what could have become of her,'

*FIRE!' screamed Priscilla.

*Take it easy, missus.' Reluctantly, Dawkin took a step away from Eppie. *Brodie!' he called to a boy of about six years of age, his legs almost as thin as those of a sparrow. *We need to slacken the flames.'

Clutching a stick to dislodge any congealed substance in the chimney pots, Dawkin clambered out of a gable window and carefully made his way up the broken-tiled roof. Eppie and Rowan grabbed every leaky-roof pail in sight. Loafer shot upstairs for more. Working in relay from the river they passed bucket after bucket of sloshing water between them. Tied to a rope, each pail was hauled up by Dawkin, who threw the contents down the chimney. Finally, the flames were quenched, the kitchen awash.

Thurstan let himself into the house. *My, aren't we having an entertaining afternoon. Fire out?' He cast Dawkin a resentful look. *I see you are still with us, more is the pity. Rowan, surely you have not lowered yourself to charge around with these coarse folk? I will not tolerate such conduct.'

Disgraced, she picked up Turnips and went upstairs to change her frock and to wash.