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Tourer – and, whilst they had been staying with her sister, the two of them had gone out for a spin several times when the men were otherwise engaged.
    Through the doctor she had earlier sent a message to Theobald asking him if they might make the journey home by train, which would have been so much quicker, but he wouldn’t agree to that either, insisting that he wanted Purves, their coachman, to come and fetch them, in view of his injured leg. In the event, Theobald felt every pothole and bump in the roads and spent the entire journey swearing under his breath.
    It had been dark for hours when they finally drove through the open gates of the estate. It was situated to the west of the town of Chester-le-Street, in the centre of the Durham and Northumberland coalfield, and the township had doubled since the turn of the century, the population now having reached 16,000 men and women. Theobald made it his business to have his thumb in many pies in the town, including shares in an engine works and a rope-making works, among other ventures. The Wynford family had reserved seats in the parish church of St Mary & St Cuthbert, in the gentry’s gallery. Such niceties were important to Theobald.
    The wide drive was bordered by ornamental privet hedges, beyond which stretched manicured gardens; and the house itself, along with the high walls that surrounded the grounds, was made of mellowed stone. At the back of the house were the stables and a massive courtyard, the kitchen garden and greenhouses, and a large orchard that led to an area of woodland. This shielded the house from the view of the farmland beyond, and the fields of grazing cattle. The sprawling farmhouse was occupied by Theobald’s farm manager – Neil Harley – and his family, and at the side of it ran a row of labourers’ cottages. Beyond these were the byres and barns, a number of pigsties, the hen coops and a purpose-built and relatively new dairy, the old dairy having lost its roof in a bad storm a few winters ago.
    Under Neil Harley’s management the farm ran like clockwork and made a good profit each year; and the gamekeeper, who had his own cottage on the very edge of the estate, provided the big house with fresh game birds and venison when required, along with rabbits and wood pigeons for the labourers’ tables and the servants’ hall.
    It was generally acknowledged, by the estate workers and the servants in the big house itself, that the master – although an exacting and strict employer – was, on the whole, a fair one. True, he kept their wages low and expected them to work from dawn to dusk without complaining, but they were well fed and adequately housed, and as long as they didn’t express any progressive views or socialist ideas, he let them alone. The one or two unfortunates in the past who had made the mistake of wanting to ‘better themselves’ had been turned out on their ear, before you could say ‘Jack Robinson’.
    When the carriage reached the pebbled forecourt in front of the house, lights were shining from the downstairs windows; and even before the horses had come to a stop, the wide front doors had been opened and a footman and two housemaids came hurrying towards them, followed by a small uniformed woman that Harriet took to be the new nanny. In a flurry of activity the coachman and footman assisted Theobald up the steps that led to the stone terrace fronting the doors, and there the butler, Osborne, took over from the coachman. With a quiet ‘May I, ma’am?’ the nanny reached for the baby, leaving the maids to look after Harriet. And she was glad of their help, Harriet acknowledged, as they each took an arm. She was feeling weak and wobbly, and not at all like herself.
    She must have looked as exhausted as she felt because Mrs Norton, who had been waiting on the top step beside Osborne, murmured, ‘Your room is aired, ma’am, and there are hot-water bottles warming the bed. Bridget and Elsie will help you upstairs and