‘You didn’t sell the one with Mags’s face on, did you?’

‘No, I could never part with that. And I hope one day to paint her for real – her nude body as well az her beautiful face. Have you a plan to help her get out?’

‘No, I thought you would come up with that – you’re the soldier, after all. Look, bring Sybil to me. Arrive on the doorstep saying you cannot take care of her any longer and that you are going away: back to France or something.’

‘Iz thiz some sort of ploy to get Sibbie back with you?’

‘Part of it is, as I can’t bear to be apart from her any longer. But not all. I really do want you to help Mags. I feel so afraid for her. Look, she has a friend who used to work here. I’ll try to find out where she lives and see if she can help. But hurry, please hurry.’

‘You haven’t thought to ask when my exhibition iz, but I forgive you. Mags, az you call her, iz very much more important to me. Do you think she may like me?’

‘She will adore you. You said she couldn’t take her eyes off you when you met her.’

‘Yes, that iz true, even though she was angry. But how beautiful she was in her anger. I must also paint her with that expression.’

‘Oh, Montel, you are the limit! But, seriously, please hurry. For my sake and for Mags’s.’

Betsy didn’t know what to make of Susan. She was a lovely-looking young woman with an almost oriental look, slim, with short dark hair and fascinating hazel eyes. Betsy wanted to hate her, but couldn’t. ‘By, lass, if this is some sort of trick, I’ll personally blacken your eye, and I’m not one for violence. You say you want to help Mags. Why?’

‘I have no other reason than guilt. Oh yes, a mistress can feel guilt. And hatred of the man who doesn’t think her worthy of marrying, and yet professes his love for her. I don’t want to be a mistress. I love Harold, and have done since I met him, which was long before he even knew Mags existed, but I was never good enough for him – not to marry. I was a maid, like you were. I can’t explain it, but even though I knew he’d never marry me, I could never give him up, as he’s in my blood.’

Betsy knew exactly what Susan meant, though she also knew there was a cure for it, as it had happened to her. All feelings that she’d had for Mr Harold Roford had been replaced by hate.

‘So this man who wants to help Mags escape is your husband?’

‘In name only.’

Betsy listened to the tale of Montel with her mouth open. She’d never heard the like. None of it seemed real. And yet it was that – the unlikeliness of it all – that made her believe Susan. For a moment she considered telling her that there was already a plan in place, but she erred on the side of caution. ‘Look, I’ll think about it. I mean I don’t even knaw where the hospital is, or how to get there. I’ve heard of Brockhall, but have never been there. I haven’t been further than Blackburn town centre in me life.’