Rosa’s mind was still full of Beatrice’s winter garden as her maid dressed her the next morning. Much to her irritation, her dreams had been full of enchanting images all night long, almost as wondrous as those long-ago childhood visions of snowflakes and sugarplums on Christmas Eve. She’d slept in later than she’d meant to, after getting home in the early hours, and so she took her breakfast quickly, eager to get to her workshop as soon as possible. But first she went upstairs to see Ada, as she did every morning.

She walked into the day-nursery, only to find the room empty. Not only was Ada not there, but both this room and the night-nursery had been stripped bare. The toys and books were gone, the wardrobe stood empty, the crib’s sheets had been removed. The empty cot reminded Rosa of that dreadful day eleven months ago when they’d returned from abroad without Esme. She felt the shock like a punch and reeled back straight into Hannah, the nanny.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Rosa demanded. ‘Where is Ada?’

Her heart clenched in the sickening fear that Hannah would say her daughter had died in the night but, instead, the woman looked confused and said, ‘Why, she’s gone to stay with her grandmother, your grace. As you instructed.’

‘As I instructed? I did no such thing! When did this happen? How?’

‘One of her grace’s servants collected her first thing this morning,’ Hannah said. ‘I packed up her things to be sent on, like you asked.’

‘I did not ask you to do that!’ Rosa exclaimed.

Hannah frowned. ‘But … the duke passed on your instructions himself—’ she began.

Rosa didn’t wait to hear any more, but stormed down the stairs to Eustace’s study, which she entered without knocking. He sat in an armchair, perusing the morning paper.

‘How dare you send our daughter away without consulting me?’ she demanded.

Eustace put down the paper with dreadful calm. ‘You left me no choice,’ he said. ‘You heard what the doctor said yesterday. It is for your own good.’

Rosa silently cursed herself for not programming the ravens to act to prevent such an occurrence.

‘I will not stand for it,’ she said. ‘I will fetch her home at once. Today.’

‘You will not,’ Eustace said quietly. ‘Mother has kindly agreed to take Ada on holiday for a spell – to a location that we have agreed shall not be made known to you. There are going to be some changes around here, Rosa.’ He leaned down to open one of his desk drawers, drew out a piece of paper and held it out to her.

‘What is that?’ she asked.

‘Read it,’ he said. ‘It is a copy of the letter I sent last night to be held by my solicitor, with instructions that it should only be opened if something were to happen to me.’