Sutherland harks on about the proposal until we bravely tell him that Mr Ainsworth was indiscreet when he was married. Sutherland does not look up from his plate. I tell him Ainsworth has no money of his own. Sutherland just grunts, the irony no doubt lost on him. My sister then states the case, which was our plan to tell him all along, that if I were to remain unmarried, my half of the estate will go to his children in due course. Sutherland perks up at this thought and looks at me for a while. He says, you really do not want to marry do you, little Walker? I meet his gaze and firmly reply that I do not. A few days later, he tells us he has sent a letter to Mr Ainsworth and that we will not hear from him again. I dread to think what he wrote of me.

The feeling in the house grows ever more intolerable. I love my sister and the children dearly, but my nerves are in shreds and I jump at every sound. He comes and goes more often now and treats me as another wife or servant, just as I thought he would. He barks at me to move things, fetch things, pour tea, pick up or quieten a child. He comments on my clothing and whether I look pale, which is most of the time. He tells us to leave him alone and then to keep him company. He grunts that he hopes the next child is another boy, for he does not want a houseful of women getting under his feet. I do not want to leave Elizabeth, especially as she’s having another child, but after ten months with them, hoping and hoping that it would work out, she cuts me free.

One day, after two weeks in his ominous presence, never a moment alone with each other, I open my book and find a note: ‘Go home to C. N. and we will visit you soon. I’ve loved having you here these months, but he was not your choosing, you should not suffer, one of us should be free. I love you, E’.

Miss Lister

I rise each day and walk the streets of Copenhagen as if they will give me an answer, or at least another chance meeting to lead me on to my next adventure. I turn the pages of an atlas and plot routes, but never choose one to follow. I decline invitations as I realise I have become a burden of a guest with little to say for myself.