James Carter sat by the roaring fire in the study of 24 Harrington Square, driving the damp out of his bones. Harriet was seated opposite him, toasting a plate of crumpets for them all to share.

Agatha stared out of the study window. Her mind raced, as she folded her hands behind her back, trying to piece together everything she had learnt so far. Turning to face James Carter she asked. “I want to know everything about your sister-in-law and the marriage she had with your brother.”

James sighed as he cradled his cold cup of tea. “Phoebe may be an embarrassment to our family with the gambling and drinking Mrs Christie, Miss Wells. But one thing Phoebe is not, and that is a murderer.

She and Thomas were destined to be married from an early age. The joining together of our two families would strengthen our monopoly already held in the north-west of England’s textile industry.”

“The Lancastrian cotton mills?” asked Agatha.

“Your powers of deduction are superb Mrs Christie.”

“Thank you, but please continue, Mr Carter.”

“The Roehampton’s, Phoebe’s family, owned large cotton plantations across North and South Carolina. Our family owned equally large cotton mills here in England. It was hoped that the marriage of Thomas and Phoebe would produce, in time, a succession of heirs to carry the family business through to the next century. 

“So, what went wrong?” enquired Harriet.

“I suppose,” said James turning to look at Harriet. “Thomas is what went wrong.”

Agatha then asked James to explain himself as she took her seat next to Harriet.

“Thomas wasn’t interested in sitting in an office looking out of a window to see hundreds of looms scuttle back and forth each day. He was an outdoors person. Then, one day Thomas saw in the paper that a Dutch company was requesting a site manager for...