I shrugged. ‘Well, then, leave. Have it. Why not?’

She gazed about her. The same four walls they’d always been. The same trap. And she had dragged me back into it. Hurt sometimes puts a person in a hurting mood, and I spoke harsh words, then, which I bitterly regret. But if we could make peace with the dead there’d be no cause to mourn them. I told her she was too selfish to have a child, that she was a coward, that she had brought everything on herself.

Her eyes grew dark. Nothing would calm her. She took more and more laudanum, asking me to forgive her. ‘What am I going to do?’ she cried. Her body clutched itself, and she went still. I was worried, thinking this might be another of her spells. Her mind travelling someplace else. Her voice grew so thin I had to strain to hear her. Did I remember, she asked, how we’d talked about what she’d take with her if she could leave? I told her we both knew she would never leave. ‘You’re a pendulum,’ I said. Then she started trembling, and said she wanted sleep.

Through the rest of that day he came in and out of her rooms, to tell her all the things she would and wouldn’t do. She was to host a soirée, plan it for the night before they left: ‘Make a big show of your glowing health, play up the restoration of your spirits. Invite the cuckold-maker. Oh, yes. Invite him. Show everyone there’s nothing wrong here. Give them Marvellous Meg.’ She would be happy, she would shine. Oh, she’d better shine.

A few days later there was a soirée. But there was to be no cottage. And no baby. Only murder. And blood, so much blood.

ROBERT MEEK, sworn

I am a constable. On 27 January 1826 at approximately two o’clock in the morning I was called to Levenhall, the town residence of Mr George Benham. I was shown upstairs to the library by the housekeeper. I examined the landing minutely, and found copious marks of blood there, as well as on the floor in the library. I entered the library and discovered the body of Mr George Benham. I was then taken to Mrs Benham’s bedchamber, where there were also marks of blood present, on the floor outside the door, and on the carpet inside. Mrs Benham’s body was discovered in her bed. There was a large quantity of blood also in the centre of the bed. The carpet appeared wet as if attempts had been made to wash it to get out the blood. The prisoner was found asleep beside Mrs Benham’s body. I was present when she was woken by the housekeeper and heard her say, ‘I can’t remember, I can’t remember.’ She said it over and over and appeared to be in a state of some distress, after which she refused to say any more.

I was told Mr and Mrs Benham had been hosting Mr Feelon and various members of a planning committee of the Anti-Slavery Society, formed by Mrs Benham to organize a debate which had taken place earlier that day at the Royal Society of Science.