“It affords me the freedom to do as I must,” Catherine said, her expression still for a moment before igniting into a dazzling smile. “And tonight I can see that what I must do is take care of you and your dear, perfect mind. The intellect that has solved a terrible crime is in my hands. I must ensure it is properly cared for.”

“Lady Catherine.” Charlotte blushed, turning her face towards the fire. “I am just myself, a person who feels rather little and insignificant in this great sphere tonight.”

“Not at all. Why, my dear, you are everything to me.” It was said with such passion, and Lady Hartley’s gaze was so intense that for a moment Charlotte felt caught quite off guard. “To find you, to know you and see inside your great thoughts, has been like drinking at an oasis in a desert of buffoons.”

“Please forgive me.” Charlotte withdrew her hands from Lady Hartley’s grasp as the room swam and tilted. “I find I am a little faint. I haven’t eaten in an age, and perhaps the warmth of the fire and the great emotion of events has overwhelmed me. . . .”

“Let me call for refreshments at once,” Lady Hartley said. “Charlotte, please do forgive me—I fear we were both quite swept away for a moment, weren’t we? I shall correct that at once.”

Charlotte smiled, uncertain as to why a strange kind of queasiness simmered in her chest. It felt a little as though she were already lost in that never-ending dream. Lady Hartley rang for her maid and then rang again.

“I do so like to give our people Christmas at home, but I must say it is rather tiring when one simply cannot get one’s maid’s attention!” The last few words were shouted into the hallway.

“I cannot think what has happened to Maude.” Lady Hartley stood up again. “Perhaps she is on the other side of the house seeing to Leonard. I can see that I shall have to go and find her. The trouble is, Charlotte, I am altogether too soft on my servants. They take such liberties with my good nature, stride around the place as though they own it.”

Charlotte thought of the timid girl who had greeted her at the door. That had not been the impression she had received.

“Please do not—not on my account, Catherine,” she said, feeling suddenly very much in need of the humble familiarity of her own home. “In actual fact I think I must return to the parsonage to wait there for news. Perhaps you could call your carriage instead?”