Rosa released her hand and leaned back against the settee.

Careful what you wish for, she thought.

‘How kind,’ she said aloud. ‘But, you know, that is only because you see my triumphs rather than my mistakes.’

Beatrice frowned. ‘S-So much t-talk of m-mistakes,’ she said. ‘Are you qu-quite c-certain that all is w-well?’

‘Quite,’ Rosa said brightly. ‘You must forgive me, Beatrice. If I seem restless, it is only because I am tired of pregnancy, and more than ready for the babies to be born. It is so very uncomfortable, you see. On that note, I think I’d best return to Raven Hall.’ She looked up at her friend. ‘Think about what I said, please? Promise me that you’ll at least do that?’

Beatrice nodded. ‘Y-yes,’ she said. ‘I w-will.’

Rosa stood up and Beatrice did the same. ‘Take care of yourself, honey. If you stay in England, then perhaps I will see you again, but I very much hope that will not prove to be the case and that we won’t see each other for months and months.’

Rosa was almost at the door when the other woman spoke her name and she turned back.

‘Th-Thank you,’ Beatrice said. ‘For s-seeing me. As I. Am.’

Rosa smiled. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Thank you. For sharing the secret of the Winter Garden with me. And for showing me there’s another way to live. I always fancied myself a bit of a rebel, but, Lady Sitwell, I’m nothing on you.’

She took her leave. The short walk to the carriage seemed to go on forever. She was uncomfortable sitting down, but she was uncomfortable standing up too, and lying flat, and everything in between. It was a blow to have gleaned no new information about the carousel, but she had enjoyed seeing her friend, regardless. The days passed uneventfully after that. Once a fortnight had gone by, Rosa was pleased to receive a letter from Beatrice saying that she had decided to return to travelling after all. The clockwork pigeon resumed carrying messages between them; or, rather, from Beatrice. Rosa increasingly found that she lacked the energy for letter writing, and what was there to say anyway? Her life was not like Beatrice’s. She rarely had anything of interest to share.