Slower still and only by an effort of will she opened her eyes. She was seated on a couch in a ship’s cabin. The ceiling was low and from it hung several lanterns illuminating a table and chairs with the portholes covered with velvet curtains.

It was a luxurious cabin such as she had never imagined possible in a ship. There were expensive rugs on the floor and the couch she sat on was covered with brocade and there were soft satin cushions on either side of her.

She pushed back the hood that covered her head and rubbed her eyes to make sure that she was not dreaming. Then she took several deep breaths as if to free her lungs from the stifling suffocation of the blanket that had covered her.

She was alive!

She was not dead!

And in the utter relief of not experiencing what she had expected, she felt almost light-headed.

She had been so afraid when they lifted her up that it had seemed as if her very heart stopped beating with the fear of death.

No, she was not dead, but she was aboard a yacht. She knew by the sounds outside the cabin that they were putting to sea. She could hear the anchor being wound up, she could hear commands being given, sails being hoisted and the slap of bare feet running across the deck.

Where could she be going, she wondered, and thought for one moment of going on deck.

She would reveal who she was to the sailors. She would ask them to refuse to obey orders and to carry her back to the shore.

She ran towards the door and strove to lift the latch. It resisted her and frantically she pressed it upwards with both her hands, but it was to no avail.

She realised then that the door was locked on the outside.

She was a prisoner.

She crossed the cabin again and, as she did so, she caught a reflection of herself in a mirror hanging on the wall. For a moment she hardly recognised the wild-eyed tousle-haired girl who faced her.

Then she stood still and after a moment began skilfully to repair the damage the blanket over her head had done to her appearance.

She must be calm and dignified, she told herself. Sooner or later someone would come to the cabin, the Captain of the yacht perhaps. She would speak to him, tell him that there had been a grave mistake and demand to be taken back to Brighthelmstone.

She smoothed her hair, wiped away the traces of tears from her eyes and then, taking off her fur-edged cape, rearranged the laces at the neck of her gown.