She swiftly related the facts of the case: a few years ago, she was returning home late one night under a bright moon, her reins and body loose after a refreshing gallop, when she met a gypsy woman coming stealthily along the path in her direction, two fat hares flopping limp from her hand. Both froze, their minds instantly flying in terror to the consequences of this mutual discovery: Anne seized by the possibility of being unmasked; the woman by the thought of gaol, a transport ship, or worse.

At first, the gypsy’s terror was the greater, confronted as she was by a young gentleman on horseback; but as luck or misfortune would have it, she had presented her rushwork to the ladies of Rosings only the week before, and her eyes fastened onto her interlocutor’s face with shock, then comprehension, exclaiming in recognition as she identified Anne by name.

Words then flew, made harsh by mutual misunderstanding and fear, culminating in Miss de Bourgh demanding that the woman say nothing of their meeting, or face the most dire consequences. The gypsy, with remarkable quickness of mind, seized the opportunity for mutual negotiation. She gave her promise of silence with alacrity, but then announced her intention to beg a boon in return. Would her ladyship return with her to their encampment?

It took some time for the two to come to terms; Anne dreaded further exposure, but in the end she reasoned that the contraband hares condemned not just the gypsy but all her fellows, who would require a cloak of secrecy even more urgently than she did. Suspicious but curious, she followed the woman back to the site where a small cluster of wagons and tents stood, a cheerless spot in the middle of a muddy strip of land squeezed between a track and a still-bare wood. A fire smouldered, and a child could be heard coughing.

A half-circle of faces pale in the moonlight turned towards them, and there was a quick and low ripple of Romany; then two men approached with offers to care for Bruno while his rider rested and took some refreshment. Their soft words and pats to her horse’s neck reassured her almost as much as they soothed her mount, inspiring her to leave the height and safety of his back. There was relief in finding that no one seemed scandalised by her dress or unorthodox midnight appearance; if anything, they were relieved to be dealing with a woman, however she might be attired.

Over mugs of strong black tea, she established what the tinkers’ needs were, and these were indeed simple: a dry bit of pasture where they could make camp unharassed, with a good source of clean water and firewood nearby. She promised to make the necessary arrangements and, while their reciprocal agreement of utmost secrecy remained unspoken, it was clearly understood by all.