If she was weaning herself, I saw no signs of it. It was her nerves, she said. Needing the steadying hand of the drug. I needed it too. Craved it. All that night opium fever moved through her and, at times, it clutched at my hand and said all manner of unspeakable things. I could come back with you, Frances, I could keep it ‒

I went cold. In my mind’s eye, I saw a little mulatta girl, dandled on my knee.

‘No.’ I made myself say it quickly, shook my head. Some things are not possible in this world. Some women are born knowing that, some have to learn. Oh, but I should have said yes. I know that now. Come, my love, come with me, come what may. Isn’t that how they’d have it in a novel or a romance?

Mr Casterwick came up to say Benham wanted her downstairs in the parlour. I followed her down, thinking I’d see about making her some tea. But I crept back, put my ear to the door. Snatches of talk. Loose threads. Why can I not do it in my own time? . . . Please, let me . . . do it on my own . . . You stifle me with ‒ And then, only mumbling.

In the kitchen, the heat was stifling. I sat at the table to wait for the kettle and felt it like wet muslin over my face. The room was empty. My head filled with thoughts of what he could want with her. I hadn’t been there longer than a few minutes when Linux came in, knocked her boots against the jamb, and unknotted the strings of her bonnet. I coughed to make sure she looked up and saw me. When she did, her scars flared red. ‘You.’ She glanced at the stove. ‘What’s the water for?’

‘Tea.’

‘For her?’

‘Who else?’

‘What’s the matter with her?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s been three weeks now since she left that room. If it’s as bad as all that, we must send for Dr Fawkes.’

‘She doesn’t want the doctor.’

‘Then why are her doors locked? It’s always when you’re in this house that it fills with secrets.’

Before I could answer, Mr Casterwick came to the door. ‘Mr Benham requests that you join them upstairs.’

She sat on the blue sofa with her hands crab-clawed in her lap. I tried to catch her eye, but she looked away. I couldn’t tell anything from the set of her mouth, but I could from the way she refused to look at me. ‘Come in,’ he said. His face was tight and he jerked his neck, so it clicked forward; the knob in his throat slid up and down. ‘Sit.’ I went to the window bench. My old seat. Outside, a liquid earth, wet and green. The light fading. He waited for Mr Casterwick to shut the door. ‘I’ve been speaking with my wife.’ Her hands twitched. Laudanum shakes.