Here, surely, were acts of kindness, for which he had asked and received nothing. Neither Edmund nor their quiet Mama had ever shown gratitude towards him for guiding them safely through failing light, and yet all through his childhood, Ross had persisted in this role. And he thought now that here was something to set against shame and loathing. It also filled his heart, for a brief moment, with the belief that now, at last, he was once again embarked on the same mission – to be the one to bring Edmund home. This time, no fond parent waited for them. If there was a lamp burning in the house where they had once lived, it had been lit by strangers. Mother and father both lay in St. Mary’s churchyard and the graves were overgrown. But Ross thought now that if ever he survived the sea journey, if at last Edmund was found, he would ask his brother if this was what he wanted, to be brought back to the valley where they had grown up and live chastely there, as though the intervening years had never been.

As he drifted to sleep on the tide of this dreamlike thought, he said again as he had said to Chesterfield, ‘all I know is the past’.

Over the following few days, in worsening weather, as the Cape of Good Hope neared, Ross kept trying to steer his thoughts towards his childhood, looking there for acts of innocence and kindness. He’d loved his mother and had always tried to please her, but he had also known that Edmund was the son dearest to her heart. Often, Edmund would be praised or caressed in a kind of unceasing way which could cause Valentine terrible pain. But he almost never let his anguish become visible. He only strove harder to behave as his mother wished, and when she did put her arms round him or stroke his hair, he was able to bask in these moments of tenderness and congratulate himself on staying strong and hiding his jealousy of his brother.

And just summoning her presence, now, seeing her sewing by the parlour fire, was almost enough to bring him respite from his perpetual agitation. And yet it was not quite enough. The image of her kept slipping away from him, or else Edmund destroyed it by coming into the room and sitting at her feet. And when he did this, she laid aside her work to fondle his bright curls.

Perhaps it was this, the sight of her gentle hands entangled in Edmund’s hair, that made Ross suddenly remember the emerald and diamond ring which had once belonged to his mother and which he had planned to give to Jane. And then he had left it in her room! He cursed and then cursed again. He had left it in her bedroom in Tite Street without meaning to do so, and had never had a moment to recover it.

The loss of this, the only thing of value he had had from his parent, now caused him intense agony. It suddenly felt to him that this had happened, not because of his own forgetfulness or inattention, but because of Jane’s sorcery. She was a true witch! She had inherited a fortune from her aunt, but had somehow arranged to trick him into leaving his mother’s ring behind, for her to add to all that she had taken from him. It was unbearable.