It is never lost on me how suddenly the summer weather turns in the Dale, from fierce heat one day, to grey tumultuous skies and threats of rain the next. It is also not lost on me that a change in the weather seems quite fitting considering my destination today.

The name of Wilderhope Manor has always seemed a total contradiction. To suggest the house, and indeed the Dale itself upon which the house flanks, possesses any semblance of hope is quite frankly, most ludicrous – or at least, that has always been my estimation of Wilderhope. The first part, Wild, is certainly far more accurate a description as I always fancied it to be a wild and bleak place, too far secluded from the civilisation of the towns and villages.

Today, as I steady the trap along the bumpy lane – my mastery of the trap something for which I have Papa to thank, as he always took great delight in teaching not only to William but myself also – I eye the foreboding skies overhead as if they might fall upon me at any moment. In fact, I am not sure I have ever visited Wilderhope when the clouds did not roll viciously above, casting shadow over the pastures of dull gold stubble and dark woodland that entomb the house.

In my delicate and often wily manner, I had been able to procure from Papa at what time Major Smallman expected to take the visit from Mr. Carver today, although I had not predicted that Silas would be loitering in the yard this morning, as he was meant to be in the lower field tending to a break in the wall. Once Silas finally departed, I was able to fetch the trap and be on my way, but I was already behind schedule and have since spent half the journey worried that I might arrive too late.

As I turn into the lane down from the village of Longville to Wilderhope, the way narrows considerably and I am so busy attempting to navigate the path without leading the horse into a ditch, that I almost do not see the familiar grey figure that haunts the side of the road.

Daniel Carver walks, as he always does, with head bowed and shoulders hunched forward – a man of the most awkward disposition when not in the seclusion of his own home. Today, he carries a leather satchel, battered and worn at the corners. The long strap crosses his body, and the bulky bag sits low against his hip, held steady by his firm grip.

As the trap draws near, he moves to the side of the lane, almost engulfed by the hedgerow but does not look up until he realises the trap has halted. When he does glance up, his expression turns quickly from one of surprise to an anger that sours his whole face.

'Miss Elmes, what business do you have so far from home?'

'And a good day to you too, Mr. Carver,' I say, ignoring his bitter tone and offering him a generous smile. 'I had heard of the troubles over at Wilderhope. Having known Major Smallman and his dearly departed wife since I was a child, I had thought to come along and assist you.'

'Had you now?' he replies, his jaw tightening. 'Did you happen to fall again and knock your head after I left you yesterday, Miss? It appears you are plagued with an amnesia in which you have conveniently forgotten that I told you I did not need your help.'

'Yes, I recall that only too well, Mr. Carver. I believe you said that it was not my place, only it also appears that I am quite exhausted of being told what is and what is not my place and so I chose to ignore you. Now, if you would like to take a seat, I shall accompany you to Wilderhope.'

Daniel steps forward, his eyes now darker than the clouds above.

'Have you completely given leave of your senses?' he says. 'You cannot come with me. This could be dangerous work.'

'Oh, how utterly preposterous!' I laugh. 'Mr. Carver, the biggest danger you face is a man bereft with grief, a man who might live out here on Wenlock Edge – quite why, I'll never fathom – but who holds great standing in the towns and could quite easily destroy your livelihood with a click of his fingers or indeed, a pull on the trigger. Do you know, I once saw him fell a horse thief with one bullet from his Lancaster pistol at a range of three hundred yards?'

Daniel's eyes widen slightly, but he hastily regains his composure, his lips thinning. 'He is not going to shoot me, Miss Elmes.'

I look down at my skirts in a casual manner, brushing off a small smudge of dust. 'Edith was his one true love from childhood through to the day she sadly passed and beyond even. Papa tells me that the Major has not been himself since and has indeed lost a few once-loyal members of staff due to his unpredictable moods. There was even talk about him threatening to pierce his groom with a bayonet for not attending properly to his wife's favourite pony. So, you see, Mr. Carver, whatever faces you at Wilderhope, it cannot possibly be worse than a furious Major Smallman, a man who happens to be a good acquaintance of my father and whose family has been linked with my own for generations? He has however, always been quite fond of myself and my brother William, having borne no children of his own and I am quite certain that my presence there will calm him and allow you to go about your business with no risk of a bayonet blade being thrust through your torso.'

Daniel's silence is met with the loud cawing of a crow that has landed on top of the hedgerow and is jabbing its beak at one of the thin branches, severing it midway before taking flight again, its spoils clasped tightly. The Sin-Eater curls his hand over the edge of the trap, his face still fierce but thought cogs clearly whirring within.

'Very well, Mis Elmes. You win,' he says. 'You may accompany me but let me say that I am displeased about this. I don't think this is your...'

'...my place?' I say curtly. 'Yes, yes, I'm sure it isn't, as you keep saying.' I inch over on the seat, allowing him some space to climb up beside me. He does, and I notice, does his best not to sit alongside me too close. 'Do you know, my friend Lizzie says that men spend much of their life being displeased about most things, except their own shortcomings, of which they seem to be quite oblivious.'

Daniel purses his lips and stares directly ahead as I snap the reins and the horse breaks into a trot.

'Your friend Lizzie is wrong. I am not oblivious to any of my shortcomings.'

'Oh, really?' I say.

'Aye,' he replies gruffly. 'It is difficult to forget what you have been reminded about every single day of your life. And besides, most people displease me as no doubt I displease them.'

I glance at him then, this strange, cold man with his dark expression and hunched so far away from me that I fear any bump in the road might have him toppling off the side of the trap.

'You should try being a woman, Mr. Carver,' I say, brightly. 'I am certain you will find whole new ways of displeasing people. Navigating society's approval daily is more perilous than all my father's journeys on the sea.'

Daniel says nothing, but I am certain I spy a ghost of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

For the remainder of the journey, neither of us speak and I am almost thankful to spy the dull grey walls of Wilderhope in the distance as the road curves. Daniel, on the other hand, sits up a little straighter when he sees the house and I note, a slight nervous flicker crosses his expression. I am at once saddened that he must face this but am glad that he is not alone. I can only hope that my presence here can soften Major Smallman's mood, although I confess, I have not seen him since before Edith sadly passed. For some reason unbeknownst to me, my parents decided that William and I would not attend the funeral, and I cannot help but feel slightly at odds with myself for coming here today.

As I pull the trap to halt at the front of the house, a young man I do not recognise appears from the stable, rubbing at his hands with a piece of damp cloth, and brushing at his hair, which still houses a few strands of straw.

'Miss? Can I help 'ee?' he says, grasping the horse's bridle and stroking her nose to calm her.

'You are the new groom, I take it?' I ask, doing my best to appear unflustered, for Daniel has jumped down and is now attempting to assist me, holding out his hand. I take it, surprised that his hands do not feel quite as rough as Lizzie has suggested they might be.

Just look at those hands, Lily. Can you imagine him grabbing hold of you with those strong, rough hands of his?

'Aye, Miss.' The new groom nods, flushing slightly when the action causes a piece of straw to fall free. 'The name's Adam, Miss. Adam Turner.'

'Oh,' I say, attempting to gather my wits about me again when all I can feel is the ghost-touch of Daniel's hand on mine. 'Do you happen to be connected in any way with the Turners of Church Stretton?'

Mr. Turner's face breaks into a wide grin. 'Oh aye, Miss. They be cousins on my Pa's side. Haven't seen them in a right while though. Been busy here, helping the Major and all.'

I glance warily towards the house, which in turn seems to stare ominously back at me, its dark windows like the many eyes of some terrifying sea monster.

'And how is Major Smallman, may I ask?'

By my side, Daniel remains rooted to the spot, a morose statue. Marble covered in soft skin. He does not look at either me nor the groom, and instead fixes his gaze on the horse's flank as if we two are not there by his side.

The groom squints. 'He is not right good, I'm afraid, Miss.' He too glances sideways at the house, his face souring instantly as if a bad taste has invaded his tongue. Wilderhope appears to cast its dark spell on others apart from myself, it seems.

'Begging yer pardon, Miss, who might I tell the Major what calls on him?'

'My apologies, Mr. Turner. I am Miss Lillian Elmes and this...' I gesture to Daniel. 'This is my acquaintance, Mr. Daniel Carver. Major Smallman sent for him.'

Mr. Turner's face seems to melt instantly, his mouth drops open, his chin sags and his eyes become wide pools of suspicion and fear.

'The... the Sin-Eater?' His voice cracks and he has to fight to clear whatever blocks his throat, holding his fist to his mouth as he coughs. 'Right there... okay...' he stammers, clearly not knowing what to do with himself.

Daniel's face hardens, a fierceness tightening the skin around his eyes, but still, he does not look up. I notice that his grip on his satchel has increased too, his fingers bunching a handful of crackled leather.

'Goodness, man, he isn't about to hex you. You can recover your wits and let the Major know we are here, yes?'

I feel somewhat mean in tone, for Adam Turner's reaction only reflects what folk have been led to believe about Daniel – real, tangible fears of the unknown – and it was only yesterday that I would have reacted in the same way. However, right now, we do not have time for superstition and scary stories, and I must impress upon him the urgency of our visit.

'Aye, Miss,' the groom says, not daring to look either of us in the eye now as he leads the horse and trap to the side of the stable, where he tethers it. Once secure, Mr. Tuner strides past us towards the main entrance calling out for a Miss Potts, as he disappears into the gabled porch.

We follow and at the open door, Daniel steps back to allow my entrance, and I do so with a tiny judder of trepidation in my heart, for Wilderhope still conjures up those ghost stories of which William always took great delight in reciting.

Inside, Mr. Turner is nowhere to be seen, but I can hear his footsteps echo somewhere in the bowels of this beastly house and his calling for this Miss Potts – whomever she might be – becoming shriller by the second.

I stand, very still, in the reception hall, wishing dearly that I could be anywhere but here. While I might have urged Mr. Turner not to rely on suspicion and scary stories, I cannot help the sensation this house evokes in me. The bleakness of Wilderhope on the outside, leeches through the walls to the interior. There is little in the way of a homely touch about this place and indeed was likewise even when the mistress of the house was alive. Vast oak beams hang above, and the walls are a dull clay white with little to furnish them and make the house appear welcoming to visitors.

I am surprised that Mr. Turner has left us standing here by the service stairs and not taken us to the anteroom to wait as usual, but there is little time to ponder when I hear footsteps returning in this direction. A tall, thin lady with a sharp-looking face appears in the passageway, and heads towards us, her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

I await her expectantly, noting how Daniel has taken a step back and now stares intently at his feet, as if hopes he could blend in with the dour surroundings.

'Miss Elmes, I take it?' the lady asks as she draws close. She is not impolite as such, but there is something in her tone which bites at me. Or mayhap it is the look in her eyes as she appears to coldly assess me from head to toe. 'Major Smallman is not expecting you.'

'Yes, I am aware of that... apologies, I did not catch your name?'

The lady's mouth presses taut. 'Miss Augusta Potts. I am the new housekeeper.'

I smile generously, for I doubt very much she deserves a smile. 'Ah, well then perhaps you are not acquainted with my family, Miss Potts? We are friends with the Major. I am here with Mr. Daniel Carver who...'

'I am aware who he is,' Miss Potts says pointedly, still not looking at Daniel. 'However, I am still unsure of the reason for your presence here, Miss Elmes? As I said, the Major is not expecting you.'

A few seconds in her presence and I am already tired of this Miss Potts. I have no idea where Prudie, the old housekeeper is, but I can only assume that the Major's grief-fuelled foul moods have seen a significant change in the staff here at Wilderhope.

'Miss Potts, firstly, I shall remind you in the kindest of ways, that the gentleman by my side has a name and is a guest here and therefore should be addressed as all others. Secondly, it matters not whether the Major is expecting me. I have known him my whole life and I am quite certain that he would wish to see me. Now, if you wouldn't mind showing us to the anteroom and informing the Major that we are here.'

I keep my steady gaze fixed upon her, until finally, she lifts her chin imperiously.

'Very well,' she says. 'As you wish. But I must warn you that the Master of the house is quite vexed. I cannot guarantee that even a lady such as yourself will not get caught up in the tempest of his dark mood today.'

With that, she turns and walks towards the Hall, her steps quick as she leads the way to the anteroom.

'Wait here,' she orders, before slipping through the door into the parlour room.

There is a moments silence as Daniel and I wait for her return. The chamber is a touch more welcoming than the hallway, with rugs to make it seem warmer and portraits on the wall. On top of the mantle above the large ornate fireplace sits a framed picture of Edith Smallman, seated in an armchair that appears far too large for her slight figure. She is not smiling, although I recall was rather fond of smiling in life and always seemed quite opposed to the bleak atmosphere of Wilderhope.

'I don't think she likes you very much,' Daniel remarks, his gaze drifting casually around the small room. From where I stand, I cannot see if he himself is smiling, but I am sure I detect some amusement in his tone and I am glad for it, because I do not like to see him so cowed in front of people like Miss Potts.

'I shan't imagine she likes anyone very much. Especially impertinent young women who do not take kindly to her tone,' I say.

'Well, at least we can agree you are impertinent, Miss Elmes.'

He turns to look directly at me, and I see a challenge there, as if he expects me to retort, but I also see something warmer there in his eyes. A softening, mayhap. I seek to speak but my mouth is at once dry and before I can manage to offer any reply to that, the door to the parlour room opens and Miss Potts waits, that same cool expression as before.

'Major Smallman will see you,' she says.

'Thank you, Miss Potts,' I say, sweeping past her into the parlour room, only to stop so abruptly just beyond the entrance that Daniel almost stumbles into my back. I feel him there, his warmth, strong and still behind me.

'Don't say I did not warn thee,' Miss Potts says snidely and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

The parlour room is chaos. Mayhem. A tempest has truly thundered through here, upturning papers and books in a rage. The drapes are fussy and unkempt, the furniture is positioned haphazardly and the whole room looks to have been caught in one of the violent storms that often plagues the Dale in wintertime.

And at the centre of this particular storm, stands one man.

A man who looks so very different to the one I have known my whole life and the way in which he is looking at me makes me feel like he does not know me at all.

Wilderhope Manor has always held so many horrors for me, but I am not sure now that I have ever witnessed one here such as Major Smallman.

Suddenly, I am not sure that coming to this house was the right thing to do.

Suddenly, I wish that I had heeded Miss Potts' warning.

It is not my place to be here.