But there was no way out.

None.

She looked up, this time staring at the one-way mirror.

Hobbes felt she was looking at him.

Her own brother and sister …

The image of that kiss was burned in her eyes.

‘I was … I was disgusted by it. But I didn’t know why. Because I didn’t know what they were doing, not truly. I was too young, too innocent.’

It could not be stated but she had to state it.

She had to.

And then she cried out: ‘God help me!’

Fairfax leaned forward. But no prompt was necessary: Camilla’s pain burned quickly away as she breathed deeply, recharging herself. And when she spoke again, this time the words came more freely. She was almost serene.

‘A few months later, I felt that something had changed in the house, the way my parents were talking, and my sister and brother. Lots of whisperings, sudden cries of pain and anger. I felt that some great secret was being kept from me. As it was, of course.’

She nodded at Fairfax, and he poured her another tumbler of water. She took a sip to refresh her voice.

‘I saw it in Rosamund’s … shape.’ She made a grimace, saying this last word. ‘Her body was changing over time, as the months passed. And the way she was acting. In the meantime, Mary Estelle was busy hanging more and more crosses on the walls, and images of Our Mother of Sorrows. In preparation for some terrible or joyous event, who could tell which?’ Camilla looked over to Latimer. ‘Mary Estelle could not have any more children, you see. I have learned since that my birth damaged her. She would often remind me of this, in later life, as though everything that had happened was in some way my fault.’

Latimer didn’t respond.

‘In fact, two years after I arrived in the world, she suffered a miscarriage. Often, she would claim to hear this child, crying in the house at night. A ghost in the corridors. I believe that explains her welcoming this new daughter into the house. And her religious beliefs, of course, which told her that every life was sacred.’

Camilla took a moment to reflect.

‘Rosamund was confined to the house as soon as the pregnancy showed. And then to her bedroom. Bridlemere seemed darker than ever, and more enclosing. I felt I could hardly breathe. Not until the baby was born. And then … oh, and then everything changed, and for the better.’

She smiled broadly, her first such emotion.

‘Sweet Adeline! I have such fond memories of those early years, when I looked after her, watching her grow, playing games with her, telling her stories. We were very close, the two of us. Yes, very close. And so the years passed …’

‘What about Rosamund?’

‘Rosamund? Oh, she played the loving mother at first, and took to the role well enough. But that didn’t last long. She was too young, and by now too anxious to escape the house.’