John pushed open the cottage door and stepped inside.

Agnes followed.

Neither spoke.

Mrs Hargreaves looked from one to the other.

Whatever had happened at the manor had followed them home.

John stepped inside and leaned heavily against the door for a moment.

Agnes sat near the hearth and stared into the fire.

Still neither spoke.

Mrs Hargreaves folded her arms.

"Well?"

John glanced towards his daughter.

"Let's eat first."

That was answer enough.

The pottage simmered quietly over the fire.

No one said much while they ate.

John seemed distracted.

Agnes barely touched her bowl.

At length Mrs Hargreaves could bear it no longer.

"What did the steward want?"

John put down his spoon.

"The book."

Mrs Hargreaves felt her stomach tighten.

"He kept it?"

"Aye."

Agnes stared into the fire.

"The pressed flower was still inside."

Mrs Hargreaves looked at her daughter.

Agnes swallowed hard.

"He remembered where it came from."

"The steward?" asked Mrs Hargreaves.

"Aye."

John nodded.

"Said his wife used to gather them."

The cottage fell silent.

For a brief moment Mrs Hargreaves almost felt sorry for the man.

Then she remembered where the book now sat.

Locked away inside the manor.

"What else?" she asked.

John took a drink of ale.

"He spoke about church attendance."

Mrs Hargreaves lowered her eyes.

"And?"

"He said the vicar takes an interest in such matters."

Agnes pushed her bowl away.

"It wasn't even my book."

"No."

"Then why does it matter?"

John sighed.

"Because folk like asking questions."

Agnes rose from the table.

"And what if I don't wish to answer them?"

Neither parent replied.

A moment later she disappeared behind the sleeping curtain.

The silence she left behind seemed heavier than before.

Mrs Hargreaves waited until she heard Agnes settle herself.

Only then did she speak.

"Did he mention the men?"

John looked up.

"The men who attacked thee."

"Aye."

"What did he say?"

John rubbed his jaw.

"Rumours of strangers near Keighley."

Mrs Hargreaves frowned.

"The same men?"

"I don't know."

"And the steward?"

"He hasn't forgotten."

John stared into the embers.

"Nor have I."

The fire crackled.

Outside, the wind brushed against the cottage wall.

At length Mrs Hargreaves cleared her throat.

"There was a visitor while you were away."

John looked up.

"Who?"

"Margery Rushworth."

John's eyebrows rose.

"The woman who found my hat?"

"The very same."

"What did she want?"

Mrs Hargreaves hesitated.

Suddenly the words seemed foolish.

Even impossible.

Yet she had heard them with her own ears.

"She came about Agnes."

John sat back.

"Our Agnes?"

"Aye."

The fire spat sparks into the hearth.

For a while neither spoke.

Then John asked quietly,

"What about her?"

Mrs Hargreaves smiled despite herself.

"It seems Thomas Rushworth has taken a liking to our daughter."

John blinked.

"Thomas Rushworth?"

"Aye."

"And Margery came all this way for that?"

"Aye."

John stared into the fire.

A good lad.

A hard-working family.

Respectable folk.

Under different circumstances it would have pleased him greatly.

Instead his thoughts returned to the steward.

The prayer book.

The vicar.

The strangers.

The questions.

Mrs Hargreaves watched him.

"What are you thinking?"

John reached for his pipe.

He packed the bowl carefully and held it towards the fire.

The tobacco glowed red.

At length he spoke.

"If the lad is serious, then there'll be things need putting right."

"What things?"

John drew deeply upon the pipe.

"The vicar."

Mrs Hargreaves said nothing.

The fire crackled softly between them.

Outside, somewhere across the moor, a dog barked.

John stared into the embers.

The steward had taken the book.

The vicar would soon be asking questions.

The men who attacked him were still somewhere out there.

And now Thomas Rushworth wanted Agnes.

For the first time in many years, John Hargreaves found himself wondering whether the past was about to cost his daughter her future.

Neither of them slept easily that night.

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                                                               -XIV-