She paused, but not for long. ‘You have no idea of the frustration a person of my position endures. The constraints upon my life! The boundaries of propriety, of position, of womanhood, of God knows – everything. It is enough to drive one mad. Mad, truly! I cannot go to the market alone, play tennis with a boy, say this, do that, wear clothes that do not constrict my body here!’ She put her hands to her waist. ‘Or here!’ Both hands went over her heart. ‘All the rules, the whispered admonitions, yes, and even the shouted ones! I cannot bear it, cannot bear it I say, and what you see here is the culmination of years of planning. If you give me away, it will go very badly for you, sir! Of that I will make certain!’

‘We have covered that ground, Miss Wyndham, and once again I assure you that is not my intent. But even if you refuse to see danger, people have been concerned for your safety. You do understand that? People who care about you. They are suffering.’

‘Or claim to be,’ she said and looked away.

‘Your mother, for one,’ said Holmes.

A small frown flashed across the beautiful young face, but if she felt any contrition, she shook it off like a dog shaking off water. ‘She will recover.’

‘And yet she is suffering, Miss Wyndham. And I believe your maid Polly was arrested one night, presumably on an errand for you. I understand that a girl like that can be gaoled without trial here in Cambridge, if the University so wishes. You know of the Spinning House? Ah, I see you know what I am talking about.’

Miss Wyndham was clearly uncomfortable at this.

‘I’m sure Polly is careful,’ she said.

‘But let us turn to your reasons for needing to hide, Miss Wyndham,’ said Holmes. ‘Do you not see various escape routes from what you feel to be an awful confinement in the home of your father? For example, have you not considered studying at Girton, or Newnham? I understand that opportunities have opened there for women to expand their—’

‘I have grown up steeped in academia. Statues. Greek plays. Pah! That is the last thing I want!’

‘I see.’

‘And anyway, my father forbids it.’

Holmes paused at this. ‘I am sorry to hear it. But what of marriage? I understand that you are being courted, and by more than one suitor.’

His words contained no trace of sarcasm.

‘Escaping from the frying pan into the fire?’ she said bitterly. ‘As it is, I am being steered, none too gently, towards one of them.’

‘Which one do you prefer?’

‘What does it matter? Being steered at all is objectionable,’ she cried. ‘Everything I do has been controlled by others. I hate my life. I hate my parents. I hate this world that tries to rein me in, that excludes me from an education, adventures, excitement, and – well, everything I want!’