We were almost upon the crossroad. “Julia, turn!” I acted before I fully knew what I was doing: the worst transgression of carriage etiquette. I leaned over my sister and wrenched the reins out of her hand.

“Gus, what are you doing?” Julia yelled, grabbing back at the reins.

The odd feel of the reins made the horses turn sharply. The phaeton swung wildly to the left, jolting Julia hard against me. Behind us, I heard Miss Grant shriek as the horses broke into a confused gallop. Dear God, what had I done?

I slapped away Julia’s hands and let the pair have their head for a few strides, then eased them back, letting them know someone was in charge, my heart pounding as I drew them gradually down into a walk and, finally, a stop.

I looked sideways at my sister. She sat ramrod straight, her jaw set into a hard line of righteous fury, her chest rising and falling in hard, quick breaths.

“How dare you take the reins from me, Augusta,” she said. “How dare you.” She turned in her seat to face Miss Grant. “Are you and Hester unharmed?”

“Yes.” Miss Grant’s voice wavered upon the word. I turned to meet her glare. Her arms were tight around the still insensible Hester. “But barely. I nearly lost hold of her.”

Julia turned back to me. “What possessed you? That was dangerous and completely unnecessary!”

At her scathing tone, my hot shame shifted into fury. “What possessed me? What possessed you to inform Deele of your idiotic plan? If you take Hester to the Ladies of Llangollen, she will be back in Deele’s control before you know it! Especially since you are telling him where she is!” I shouted the last, the fright and confusion of the last few minutes bursting out of me. The horses shifted, jolting the phaeton.

“You don’t always know best, Gus!” Julia yelled back. “Other people have good ideas too. It is not up to you to solve every problem. You are not responsible for everything!” She drew a shaking breath. I opened my mouth to protest, but she gave an angry shake of her head, not finished yet. “You have to let people live their own lives. Make their own choices. I know it is the way you show that you care, but you are being too high-handed. Too interfering. I am sorry, but that is the truth.”

High-handed? Interfering? I stared at her, a dry ache welling up into my throat. She did not, I think, mean only for Hester and Elizabeth, but herself too.

I shook my head. She did not understand what I was trying to do.

“My plan is good,” she added defiantly, “and Elizabeth thinks it is the best way to go ahead. It is her choice and it is what we are going to do.”