Joseph saw sense and put the pistol away. Philomena trembled with fear. Joseph could not be trusted with a pistol. There was no knowing what he might do. A manservant came out to the coach and whispered to Joseph.

“There’s food and drink on its way,” Joseph said. “You’ll take it in here and don’t you make no noise.”

Philomena nodded. A basket of bread and cheese appeared, along with bottles of beer. Joseph loosened the ropes around his captive’s wrists to let her eat. Philomena was ravenously hungry and still cold and wet from the hours spent in the gloomy London garden. The bread was stale but at least it filled her stomach and staved off for a while the headache that threatened to overwhelm her.

Then, they were off again. Philomena wriggled herself into a more comfortable position, decided she could do little to help herself until they arrived and tried to pass the time in sleep. Yet sleep eluded her. She closed her eyes, fearful of bad dreams, but instead, thought of Hugh, of Thatcham Hall, and of John. Memories of the wonderful time at the Hall helped her stay calm. No matter what happened now, she would always have those. She could bear anything, so long as Hugh and John were safe. At last, Philomena sank into a dreamless sleep, oblivious at last to the jerking and jolting of the carriage.

The sky was lighter when she awoke. She saw Joseph clearly. It must be five o’clock or so in the morning. The light hurt her eyes. A roaring ache had taken hold, hammering in her head. Philomena closed her eyes again. The hammers quieted but did not stop. Her clothes seemed tight and hot. She could hardly breathe. The carriage stopped. Philomena slid forward and crashed against the side.

“Right.” Joseph yanked her upright. “Here we are, just like I promised.”

The door of the carriage flew open. An arm slid through and grasped Philomena. With a thrill of fear and disgust, she recognised the elongated nails and etiolated fingers of her nightmares. It was just as she had feared. “No,” she cried, shrinking back.

The grip on her arm tightened, nails digging in to flesh. “Come with me, wife. You are home at last. What could be more charming?”

The man with the cold green eyes tugged Philomena out of the carriage. She tripped on the step and only her captor’s grasp prevented her from falling. She saw the face she dreaded.

“Yes, my dear, we will deal happily together,” said Mr. Muldrow. “Just as soon as you learn who is master here.”

Shivering, Philomena stumbled into the Manor. She saw no servants. They must be about their business in other parts of the house, lighting fires and preparing the breakfast. How strange to imagine normal life continuing. Philomena’s own life was over. There would be no escape from this man. She was at his mercy.