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and if a patch of damp appeared from time to time on the back wall, a touch of whitewash soon disguised it.
    Outside the air was balmy with the scents of spring, the blossoms festooned the few trees that grew in World’s End and the sound of birdsong was pleasing to Eline, smothering for a moment the apprehension that filled her.
    How would Calvin receive her, would he have her ordered away from the premises without even talking to her? She wouldn’t be at all surprised. And could she blame him? He had been good and kind, a considerate, loving husband and she, well she had been faithless.
    It was a long walk through the maze of streets and up the hill towards Stormhill Manor, and every step she took increased her sense of doubt at the wisdom of what she was doing.
    At last she arrived at the gates and began the walk along the tree-shaded drive. It was a strange feeling, looking up at the big house, it was as if living there was something she had experienced in a distant dream.
    She hesitated at the front door; should she go to the back like one of the servants? But that was absurd. She was still Calvin’s wife, she must behave as such or she wouldn’t even get past the servant who opened the door.
    Eline’s surprise as the big door swung open was reflected in the face of the girl who stood before her. She was dressed in a neat black skirt and a white blouse, and an apron was tied around her slender waist. Her hair, silver and gold in the glimmer of sunlight was tied away from her face but there was no mistaking the sheer beauty of it.
    ‘Arian!’ Eline said. ‘What on earth are you doing here and dressed like that?’
    ‘I’m working here,’ Arian stepped back and allowed Eline into the hallway. ‘I suppose I’m a servant. I do any and every job that is asked of me.’
    ‘Oh Arian, and you showed such promise when you worked for me,’ Eline said. ‘Surely you can find something better than this?’
    Arian shook her head. ‘A lot has happened to me since I was in charge of your workshop, you must know that, Eline. Anyway, Lord Temple was kind enough to take me in when I was desperate. I’m grateful now for a roof over my head and some warm food in my belly.’
    Eline sighed. ‘You’ve had a bad time of it, Arian, but I don’t suppose you want to be reminded of it. Is Calvin at home? I must see him.’ She wondered briefly if Arian was warming Calvin’s bed. From what she remembered, Arian had hot blood in her veins; she had fallen under the spell of Price Davies quickly enough. But that thought was uncharitable and, to be fair, Arian had been eager to learn from Price Davies; she had learned as much about the shoe trade as the cobbler was willing to teach her. Of course that was before everything went sour on her, before the strange fire at the farmhouse in the hills, the full story of which even now was shrouded in mystery.
    Eline chided herself. Who was she to judge Arian or anyone else, come to that? She was living in sin with Will and with a baby borne to one man while she was married to another. Not exactly a pillar of moral rectitude was she?
    ‘He is in,’ Arian’s voice broke into Eline’s thoughts. ‘Shall I tell him you’re here?’ She looked curiously at Eline. It was clear she knew what had happened between the couple, everyone in Swansea probably knew about the way Calvin had thrown his wife out with little but the clothes she stood up in.
    ‘Where is he?’ Eline asked softly. ‘I don’t want him to have the chance to turn me away without hearing me out.’
    ‘In the library, I think,’ Arian said quietly. ‘But don’t tell him I was the one who let you in.’
    Her heart was beating swiftly as Eline made her way across the polished floor of the hall towards the double doors of the library. Her hand, reaching for the door knob, was trembling.
    Calvin rose to his feet as she entered the room, the pen still in his hand. ‘What are you doing here?’ His voice was hostile, his eyes