Curiously, Mr Norrell seemed to guess his thoughts anyway.

“Oh!” he cried in a sudden passion. “Very well! You are there, are you? Then I advise you to go and join Strange and Murray and all the other traitors immediately! I believe you will find that their ideas suit your present frame of mind much better! I am sure that they will be very glad to have you. And you will be able to tell them all my secrets! I dare say they will pay you handsomely for it. I shall be ruined and …”

“Mr Norrell, calm yourself. I have no intention of taking up any new employment. You are the last master I shall ever have.”

There was another short silence which perhaps allowed Mr Norrell time to reflect upon the inappropriateness of quarrelling with the man who had saved his life only yesterday. In a more reasonable tone he said, “I dare say no one has told you yet. Strange’s wife is dead.”

“What?”

“Dead. I had the news from Sir Walter. Apparently she went for a walk in the snow. Most ill-advised. Two days later she was dead.”

Childermass felt cold. The dreary landscape was suddenly very close, just beneath the skin of England. He could almost fancy himself upon the ancient road again …

… and Arabella Strange was on the road ahead of him. Her back was turned towards him and she walked on alone into the chill, grey lands, under the magic-speaking sky …

“I am told,” continued Mr Norrell, quite oblivious to Childermass’s sudden pallor and laboured breathing, “that Lady Pole has been made very unhappy by the death of Mrs Strange. Her distress has been out of all reason. It seems they were friends. I did not know that until now. Had I had known it, I might perhaps have …” He paused and his face worked with some secret emotion. “But it cannot matter now – one of them is mad and the other one is dead. From all that Sir Walter can tell Lady Pole seems to consider me in some way culpable for Mrs Strange’s death.” He paused. Then, in case there should be any doubt about the matter, he added, “Which is nonsense, of course.”

Just then the two eminent physicians whom Mr Norrell had employed to attend Childermass entered the room. They were surprized to see Mr Norrell in the room – surprized and delighted. Their smiling countenances and bowing, bobbing forms said what a very pleasing instance of the great man’s condescension they thought it that he should pay this visit to his servant. They told him that they had rarely seen a household where the master was so careful of the health of his inferiors or where the servants were so attached to their master by ties, less of duty, than of respect and fond regard.

Mr Norrell was at least as susceptible to flattery as most men and he began to think that perhaps he was indeed doing something unusually virtuous. He extended his hand with the intention of patting Childermass’s hand in a friendly and condescending manner. However, upon meeting Childermass’s cold stare, he thought better of it, coughed and left the room.