She continued moving through the carousel, looking for one creature in particular. In no time at all she had found it – the one horse on the entire carousel that had a golden ribbon tied into its mane:

The horse with the golden ribbon had a special gift – she could take a person back, to change just one decision they regretted …

Rosa looked into the horse’s eyes and they seemed almost accusing.

‘What are you doing here?’ Her words were a whisper. ‘I don’t want you. I changed my mind. You must leave. Go back to wherever it is you came from.’

The horse’s eyes hadn’t changed, but all at once they seemed sad rather than accusing. Sweat tingled on Rosa’s skin, despite the iciness of the night. The carousel seemed suddenly dreadful to her, as if its mere presence might somehow snatch the twins from her grasp.

‘Did you hear me?’ she hissed. ‘You’re not wanted here! Go! Get away!’

The next second, inexplicably, the carousel was gone. Rosa tripped over herself in the air and fell, crumpling into the snow. A church-like hush whispered over the scene, and flakes of fresh snow thickened the sky. One by one, the lanterns winked out and then vanished, leaving the scent of candle smoke twisting in ribbons through the naked branches. Fingers of moonlight filtered through the trees, making everything seem silver and surreal.

And Rosa was left alone in the clearing, with only her tiny clockwork ponies for company. She scooped them up and thrust them into her pocket, before running out of the trees and across the lawn to the house. It seemed to take an age to climb the stairs to the nursery. At last she threw open the door, terrified that she might find empty cribs. But everything was just as she’d left it and her baby daughters slept quietly.

Rosa breathed in to steady herself, waiting for a sense of relief that never came. Instead there was only a dark dread that one day, somehow, her daughters would be snatched away from her.

The next day Rosa was in the morning room, just finishing a letter to Beatrice about the carousel, when a footman announced that James Sheppard was outside and had enquired whether she was at home to visitors. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the pleasure garden, but she recalled now that he had promised to give her first choice of his plants when he returned from abroad.

‘Oh yes!’ Rosa exclaimed. ‘Yes, show him in. Has he brought orchids?’

‘I believe so, your grace.’

The footman showed James in and Rosa moved forward immediately, delighted to see him, as well as the large Wardian case placed by his feet.

‘It’s so good to see you, Mr Sheppard, I can’t wait to see your new orchids. Tell me, have any of—’