The next morning she called her clockwork raven to her shoulder and went straight to Eustace’s study. She entered without knocking and found him seated behind his desk. He looked gaunt, as if he had hardly slept, and she was glad that he had suffered as she had. The moment she walked through the door, he rose from his seat and began earnestly entreating her to reconsider her decision to leave.

She held up her hand to silence him and said, ‘Why did you not tell me you had another child here at Raven Hall?’

He frowned. ‘Another child? But what do you—’

‘There is no use lying to me about it. I have seen the boy around the house after dark. He was in the nursery with us last night. So which unfortunate maid was he fathered upon?’

If she could get the mother’s name, then she could find the boy and perhaps finally get to the bottom of what he knew about the carousel. She expected Eustace to be sullen and resentful as he admitted the truth to her, but she felt sure his fear of the ravens would compel him to do so.

Instead he looked utterly appalled. ‘I don’t— I have not the least notion what you are referring to. How dare you suggest such a thing to me?’

Colour tinged his cheeks and Rosa realised he was telling the truth. Or, at least, the truth as he saw it. Perhaps he genuinely did not know about the child? Perhaps the maid had kept it from him, worried about losing her position? But then … surely it would have become obvious at some point? Rosa frowned. She supposed that if the housekeeper was particularly understanding, then the girl might have been allowed to return to her family on the pretence of recovering from an illness of some kind, and then had come back with the child later?

‘Tell me which maid has been spreading these grotesque falsehoods!’ Eustace said, a nerve twitching at his temple. ‘She will leave Raven Hall today. She will never work for a titled family again.’

‘I already told you I do not know who his mother is,’ Rosa replied. ‘And when I asked Mrs Wright, she told me there are no children here.’

‘There aren’t, so far as I am aware.’ He met her eyes and said, ‘Perhaps your wedding vows meant nothing to you, but they meant a great deal to me. I would never … commit myself in that fashion. Never.’

Rosa could hardly believe he imagined she was concerned about such a thing. ‘It matters not one jot to me whether or not you are faithful,’ she said. ‘You may woo anyone who will have you – in fact I encourage you to do so. Besides, this child must have been seven or eight years old, so would have been born long before we met.’