Finally, a week later, I am packed and ready to go. My aunt cries and even Marian looks sad, but they assure me they will make the trip down to visit me soon. My sister ventures so far as to say she may come by herself if Aunt isn’t up to it, which pleases me, and I insist she does. London will be a marvel to her, Paris too, if she’s brave enough to join me. She has not been there in many years. I promise to look after her and we say goodbye fondly, as sisters should, and I feel guilty for leaving and always being so harsh on her.

My father bids me farewell and asks again if all the business is well cared for. I reassure him it is in safe hands with our steward and there is nothing he need do except support his decisions. He asks me quietly if I am seeing the lovely Mariana on my journey down and I reply yes, and he winks. He always makes me feel awkward about it, so I blush and rush into the carriage. With a wave of my hand I leave their lives behind, head from Shibden’s courtyard and up the track to the main Halifax road, past the spot where one day I plan to build a gatehouse, and turn right towards York.

At the last minute, I decide to call in at Crow Nest to say farewell. She meets me on the doorstep reluctantly like a petulant child. She barely looks at me as I tell her to be strong and look after herself. She tells me she is going to see her sister and I promise that we will travel together next time, that I will not be gone long. We can write all the time. But even as I say it, I know it is not true. I am heading off to see Mariana and intend to take pleasure with her. Familiar, passionate pleasure with my former lover and with Isabella too, possibly. I do not know how long I will be gone or even if I will return. I say I will write but I do not know if I wish to. I will leave her. If she cannot commit to me then she has lost me, and she can see how it feels to be left alone. I kiss her on both cheeks politely and let go of her hands. She does not look at me.

So fly away, little broken bird. I cannot save you or fix you; the only one who can do that is yourself. You are not my kin, my wife, or even my lover any more. I will leave you here in your sad memories and hope that your sister can pluck you from this melancholy as I have tried to and failed.

Farewell Miss Walker. I am better off without you.

Miss Walker