‘But never mind me,’ Mrs Rose continued, suddenly remembering my tale of woe. ‘Never mind my silly stories, and my suspicions. You have been through the wars, Mistress Dickson. And a young thing like you.’ I nodded again, feeling sorrier for myself by the minute. ‘You deserve good fortune and I know you’ll get it in London, with your perfume business.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied, although I did not admit that I actually had no connections in the perfume trade in London and had rather exaggerated my situation to impress her. ‘And I am sorry for trying on your face-paint earlier, only I had never worn it before and I was trying to make myself feel a bit better.’

‘Well, as we are being honest, Mistress Dickson, I will admit that I think you suited that rouge. It made you look pretty as a berry.’

Goodness, I blushed at that. For I did not see myself as pretty at all, but I did decide to buy a pot of rouge for myself, once I got to London.

Mrs Rose made soothing sounds then, and rose off the bed and carried on her ablutions, but this time she flashed me occasional glances, making sure I was all right.

She blew out most of the candles, leaving one on the side-table, and we snuggled down under our bedspreads in unison. I felt my eyes grow heavy and I knew I would fall fast asleep soon.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Rose,’ I whispered. ‘I shall be quiet as a mouse in the morning, but it was good to make your acquaintance.’

‘Goodnight, Mistress Dickson,’ she said. ‘And good luck on your adventures.’

And with that, I fell into a dreamless sleep, for which I was very grateful.

I woke abruptly the next morning to the clatter of the horses being tied to their carts in the courtyard. The sun was shining crisp and bright through the small attic window, warming up my bed, and I swung myself up and out, braced for the next stage in my journey. Tiptoeing at first, so as not to wake Mrs Rose, I was astonished to see that she was already up and gone. Her bed lay empty, the bedspread tossed to one side. I turned back to my own bed and pulled out my creel, ready to dress for the day, but it was in a terrible mess – all my bits and pieces dishevelled.

I realized at once, of course, what had happened, but I still tore through my belongings looking for the tapestry purse. It was not there. The new bonnet gone too. Mrs Rose had upped and taken them, and her cloak and her own fine dress and all of my money, save for a few pennies that were lying at the bottom of the creel.