The man at the end of the table raises his head. “Where did she get the ten pounds from?”

“I don’t know!” I say impatiently. “Perhaps it was her own money, perhaps Ned gave it to her.”

“How d’you know he was a minister of the Church at all?” Sir Edward asks portentously.

“Because he wore a furred gown like a minister from Switzerland?” I suggest impertinently. “Because he came with Janey when she asked for a minister? Because he brought a Bible and read the marriage service? Because he said that he was? How else? Should I have asked him for a copy of his degree? Why would I doubt him? Why would you doubt him now?”

They exchange looks; they are uncomfortable, and it makes me certain that someone has told them to pursue this new line of questions against their own wishes.

“And the ring?”

Proudly, I extend my hand to show them on the third finger of my left hand is Ned’s pointed diamond that he gave me for our betrothal and his wedding ring with the five links. I wore them on a chain around my neck from our wedding day, now I have them on my finger. “His rings,” I say. “I have never been without them since my wedding day.” I press them to my lips.

Their grim expressions become more downcast. “And the earl’s written proposal, and his will before he left for France when he names you as his wife?” Sir Edward says.

He knows I do not have these. We all know that my papers are missing. My fool of a maid thinks that she took my box of papers to the treasure house with the other things that I wanted kept safely in London when I was on progress with the queen. But when she went to look for it, it was missing, and then I was arrested and now nobody can find it.

“I had it with my other papers,” I say. “If I could just go to my rooms, I am sure I could find it.”

“Your rooms have been searched,” he says, as if I am some kind of criminal. “And your boxes in the treasure house have been searched. Nobody can find any papers to prove that you were married.”

I make a gesture at my straining belly. “I think it is obvious to anyone that I am married.”

Sir Edward clears his throat. “The marriage could be invalid,” he says awkwardly. “If it was not performed by a proper minister. The earl and his sister could have tricked you into a false marriage with a pretend minister and you are no more married than...” He breaks off as if he cannot think of an example of a famously deflowered spinster—though I wager it is the queen who pops into his mind.