The Buttonmaker’s Daughter. Merryn Allingham

months.’

      He would take a grim satisfaction in greeting the county’s old families and rubbing their noses in his wealth. They might own more land, but that was their only source of treasure, and its value had depreciated hugely over the last twenty or thirty years – ever since the great depression. There was no money to pay taxes, no money to pay the new threepence a week insurance for each of their dwindling band of servants. Joshua had the upper hand.

      She supposed it was some kind of poetic justice, though one that left her indifferent. He had ploughed thousands into the estate but had garnered back as much money and more. Under his management, the once failing Home Farm of the Fitzroys was a thriving enterprise, producing all its own livestock and cereals. There was honey, too – she could vouch for its excellence. And wax from the hives and building timber from the coppiced area he’d planted. There was no doubt he’d proved as successful at farming as he had at button-making, and the estate had grown rich as a result. Now his moment of glory had come: Summerhayes would be a showcase of all he stood for.

      She watched him stomp away to consult the head gardener. It would be an interesting conversation. Joshua might be allowed to design pleasure gardens but when it came to produce – the vegetables, the herbs, the soft fruit and flowers – Harris’s word was law, and his master knew it. Reluctantly, she made her way back into the house and had barely reached the drawing room when she was met by Louisa teetering on the threshold. Her sister-in-law was wearing yet another rich ensemble. She blinked in surprise at the shirred silk taffeta hat with its large jet ornament and two huge black plumes that on their own must have cost a fortune. Where did her brother get the money to pay for Louisa’s falderals?

      ‘I was just coming to find you.’ The woman sounded petulant. ‘I thought that maid of yours must have forgotten my message.’

      ‘Ivy has just spoken to me,’ she said calmly. ‘What brings you here, Louisa?’

      ‘It wasn’t you that I wanted to see, in fact. Though, of course, it’s always a pleasure,’ her sister-in-law added rather hurriedly.

      ‘Is it?’ She would not normally have spoken so bluntly, but the longing to be alone was becoming unbearable and Louisa was the least welcome of visitors. The appalling scene in the churchyard was still vivid in her mind.

      She found her sister-in-law advancing on her, a determined smile pinned to her face. The woman reached out and clasped both of Alice’s hands between her gloved fingers. When she spoke, there was an attempt to infuse warmth into her words. ‘I know there are problems between our families, Alice, but there is no need for us to be at odds. It’s really the men who have the problem, isn’t it? We should not allow their disagreements to spoil our friendship.’

      She had not been aware of a friendship. Louisa had married her brother the year they’d moved to Summerhayes, or what would become Summerhayes. From the start, she had been aloof. After all, she had married a Fitzroy of Amberley, while poor Alice had had to settle for a Birmingham factory owner. That was fourteen years ago and the situation remained unchanged. At best, it had been an uneasy relationship. She always felt tense in the other woman’s presence, as watchful of Louisa as she was of Henry. She had a premonition that if ever she relaxed her guard, her family would suffer the consequences. Joshua was intemperate, his actions hasty and ungoverned, and it was up to her to protect her children. Her husband could lead them into disaster. He did not know her brother as she did, he did not truly appreciate, even after all these years, the damage that Henry could do. Her brother had hurt more people than she could remember – the servants he’d told tales of, the friends who’d mistakenly thought him an ally – wreaking havoc with a smile and a nod and a quiet word. And sometimes worse. Right now, he would be brooding long and hard. He would not let this latest incident – the breaking of the dam – go by. He would repay the insult. Eventually.

      Louisa had released her hands and was holding her at arm’s length. ‘What on earth is the matter, Alice?’

      She realised then that for a long time she had been standing silent and dazed. She must pull herself together. It was happening too often these days. ‘If you didn’t come to see me—’

      ‘I came for the doctor,’ Louisa interrupted. ‘He promised to send a prescription to Amberley, but it must have slipped his mind. My nerves have never been good, you know that, and since this recent trouble between our families, they’ve been completely on end. But Veronal always does the trick.’

      ‘I’m sorry to hear you’ve been unwell.’ Alice doubted the truth of this, but in any case what was her sister-in-law doing chasing across the countryside to find Dr Daniels? ‘Would it not have been an idea to call at the pharmacy? They’re sure to sell Veronal.’

      ‘Yes, yes,’ Louisa huffed. Her nerves seemed to be getting the better of her once more. ‘I’m sure they do sell it, but that wretch – the new pharmacist – insists on a prescription. I sent my maid to the surgery to collect one, but she is utterly useless. By the time she got there, she’d forgotten what it was I needed. I’ve been forced to come looking for the doctor myself. Is he here? I heard in the village he was heading this way.’

      ‘He was, certainly, but he left a while ago.’

      Louisa looked disconcerted. She walked over to the window and glared into the distance. Then, as suddenly, her face cleared and she turned back to Alice, who had remained standing in the doorway.

      ‘Did you call Dr Daniels? I hope you’re not ill yourself. Or is it Joshua?’ For a moment, she seemed truly concerned.

      ‘We are both well, thank you. The doctor was here on a trivial matter. A brief check on William, nothing more.’

      As soon as she said it, Alice wished she hadn’t. She had never spoken of William’s weak heart to anyone, not from the moment he was born in this very house.

      ‘William? But he’s the picture of health.’

      ‘He is, isn’t he?’ She could not prevent a surge of pride. ‘And that’s how we wish to keep him.’

      ‘So why does he need Dr Daniels to visit?’

      This was the reason she should have said nothing. To reveal vulnerability in the family was foolish. But Louisa was looking directly at her, her brow creased into small furrows, and she could think of nothing to say but the truth.

      ‘William has a weak heart, or at least he used to have when he was a baby. He seems nowadays to have grown out of it, or so the doctor thinks. But we like to make sure that everything continues well.’

      ‘But, of course. My dear, what a worry that must have been for you. You’ve never said a thing about it.’

      Alice was already regretting her words. Even if she had been close to Louisa, she knew she would have said nothing. The boy’s fragility was real, whatever Joshua might argue, but that was not something the world or the Fitzroys should know. William would inherit the Summerhayes estate and with it everything his father had worked for. He was gentle, breakable, and as unlike Joshua as it was possible to be. But he would need to be strong, or appear strong, to hold what was his against a covetous uncle.

      She schooled her face to lack expression. ‘I’ve not mentioned it before because we have never wanted William to feel in any way a special case. And it has worked. He is a strong boy now. I hope you will keep to yourself what I’ve told you, Louisa.’

      ‘Of course, my dear. You can trust me.’ But even as she said this, Alice knew that word would be travelling back to Amberley in a very short while. Louisa was Henry’s creature.

      ‘I’m glad I came,’ her sister-in-law continued. ‘I’ve been thinking about this stupid disagreement between our husbands. Could we not do something to stop it?’

      ‘What did you have in mind?’

      ‘If I were able to persuade Henry to attend the fête at Summerhayes perhaps…?’

      For a moment she was genuinely touched by the other woman’s concern, but then common sense reasserted itself. There would