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employment to so many people,” Edward said. “I’d guess those stone dwellings near the church are the older part and those larger buildings must be the mills, but look at all those cottages, rows and rows of them. I never saw such a thing.”
    The newer buildings spread out along the sides of the valley like smutty fingers grasping at the grey-green skirts of the hills. There were many terraces of workers’ dwellings, built right up the slopes of the valley sides in places, some on land supported at intervals by steep retaining walls. The red bricks of the narrow houses were already streaked with soot and their roofs were of grey slate. The three large square buildings were several storeys high and were each dominated by a tall chimney pouring black smoke into the sky.
    “The mills are much bigger than I’d expected,” Penelope said after a long scrutiny.
    “I didn’t expect them to be built inside the town!” exclaimed Edward in tones of deep distaste. “And look at that smoke. I can only be thankful I don’t have to subject my family to such outpourings of filth! I cannot like this, my dear cousins. You must tell Mr Wright that you’ve changed your minds.”
    The sisters ignored him, continuing to stare through the carriage window, avidly taking in every detail of what might be their new home.
    He raised his voice to gain their attention. “As soon as the horses can be changed we’ll set off for home again. I daresay we can cover quite a few miles before dusk. How glad Rosemary will be to see me again.”
    “Oh, we may as well look round, now that we're here and we can’t leave without seeing Mr Wright,” Martha said.
    Penelope rubbed her temple and added, “Anyway, I really couldn’t face any more travel today, Edward. I'm feeling quite nauseous and my head is aching.”
    Her cousin edged away from her with a worried glance.
    Martha looked at her compassionately, but knew her sister hated to be fussed over when she was feeling unwell, so turned back to gaze out of the window as the main street widened out into a rather pleasant square. The carriage crossed it to turn into the yard of a commodious inn, above whose door swung a crudely-painted sign depicting a sickly-looking dragon writhing on the ground beneath a plump knight holding a gore-tipped lance. The knight definitely reminded her of Edward and she couldn’t help smiling.
    An ostler came running out to hold the horses and the landlord of the inn surged forth to greet them in person, flanked by his wife. He offered just the sort of fussy attention that Edward enjoyed and Martha watched in amusement as her cousin mellowed rapidly beneath an expert touch.
    “Mr Wright has booked rooms for you and the ladies, sir—the best the inn can provide—and fires have been burning in them since early morning. No need to fear damp sheets in our establishment. And he wishes to be informed the minute you arrive.”
    It was obvious from the landlord’s tone that Mr Wright was a personage of considerable importance in the town.
    “Very civil of him,” Edward murmured, mellowing still further when the three visitors were shown up to comfortable bedrooms with blazing fires and a good hot meal promised within the half-hour. Their baggage was brought up with panting promptness by the boot boy, and a young maid followed soon after with copper ewers of piping hot water.
    Penelope begged them to excuse her for a while and retired to her bed, looking wan and shuddering at the thought of food, but Edward and Martha did full justice to the excellent meal that was served in a cosy private parlour.
    Afterwards Edward decreed that they should both take a rest before venturing out for a stroll round the square. Martha wasn’t surprised that he needed to rest after consuming so much food and didn’t bother to argue with him. She tiptoed in to see her sister, but found Penelope fast asleep, the frown already smoothed from her face.
    On returning to her own room she