She halted, two paces in front of him, keeping her eyes lowered, waiting for the torrent to break over her head. She heard him step forward and flinched, expecting to be felled by a blow. A gnarled, but surprisingly strong hand, reached out and gripped her chin, forcing her to look up.

“Well, my dear child, that was invigorating. I have not enjoyed myself so much for years.”

“I beg your pardon...” Emily stammered.

“I enjoy a good row—cleans the pipes—do you not agree? Come, Emily, do not look so worried. The show is over.” He laughed. “You will have to get used to my temper if you wish to live here.” He released her chin and took her icy hand. “You are trembling, child. I am sorry; I did not mean to frighten you. Come and sit with me.”

Emily allowed herself to be led to the settle by the fire, grateful for its reviving warmth. She was totally bemused. How could he change from terrifying to benevolent in a second? She regained her composure and dared to speak again. “I don't understand. Are you no longer angry with me?”

He leant over and patted her hand. “No, my dear, I am not. You enraged me for a moment; I shouted at you and then I felt better. It is always so for me. In time you will get used to it.”

“I'm not going to retract my words, sir. I do feel that you mistreated us this last two years.”

“I did, my dear. But I had no idea you were in such difficulties. Your letter merely stated that your father had died and that Althea was grieving and asked if I could help in anyway, did it not?” Emily nodded. “However you did not tell me you were so strapped for cash that you could not pay the bills.” He scowled at the thought, causing her to recoil again.

She considered his explanation and found it to be true. “I hoped you would send us help anyway, now that the reason for your disapproval had been removed.”