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‘The tincture she gives my mother,’ Linette says quietly. ‘Henry said it would have killed her eventually?’

A pause. ‘She need not take any more. Henry has confiscated them.’

‘But there is no telling how much damage has already been done, is there?’

Miss Carew hesitates again. ‘It’s quite possible that your mother’s life has been shortened as a consequence. All you can do is find a way to cherish what time you have left.’

Linette sucks in her breath, the pain with it. What state will her mother be left in without the tincture keeping her bound? What manner of woman will remain? Linette is under no illusion that Gwen Tresilian will suddenly turn into a loving mother, that she will be, after such prolonged mistreatment, normal. Again she touches the bruise on her cheek. It is – and here, she fights down a hysterical laugh – the only time her mother has ever touched Linette of her own volition.

‘I have something for that, if you’ll permit?’ Miss Carew reaches for a small reticule which hangs from her wrist. ‘I always carry some herbs with me. Just in case. Sit up.’

Linette does as she is told while Miss Carew removes from her reticule a small hessian pouch, and from within that a selection of leaves. She watches as Miss Carew pinches her bottom lip with her one crooked incisor before selecting a limp one reminiscent of a miniature oak leaf. She crushes it between her fingers then looks at Linette, amber eyes bright in the low sun.

‘May I?’

Linette nods. She leans in.

‘Feverfew,’ Miss Carew murmurs. ‘Better of course mixed with the juices of ribwort and sage, but this will ease the tenderness for now.’

Linette’s eyes sting with tears. Such kindness, from a woman she barely knows. From a woman she has treated with such cool disdain.

They worked well together at the mine, she remembers, and Linette was grateful for Miss Carew’s calming presence. As the younger woman rubs the sap into Linette’s skin with short and tender strokes, she remembers too how gentle Miss Carew had been administering to the miners’ more superficial wounds, and she did not charge them a single penny for her troubles.

Yes, Miss Carew is kind. She cares about the villagers. Truly cares. If anything might commend a person to Linette, it is that. How lonely she must be, alone in her cottage up in the valley. Lonely, just like her.

All this time, Rowena Carew might have been a friend.

‘Thank you,’ Linette whispers.

‘You’re welcome.’

They are sitting so close their faces are only inches apart, Miss Carew’s fingers lingering gently on her chin. The two women look at each other, grey-green meeting amber-brown. Linette’s mouth grows dry. Her breath hitches. She can count every single freckle on Miss Carew’s finely turned nose …

Behind them there comes a loud bark and quickly Linette pulls away, confused at the wild fluttering of her pulse. She turns to see Merlin bounding from the trees, Henry following close behind.

‘There you are,’ he says, relief evident on his tired face. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

It has been arranged to meet at the grandfather clock at the hour of two. They should, perhaps, have left it longer for there was no guarantee Julian would be abed, but when one is set upon a thing it is always best to act at the earliest opportunity.

And it must be tonight.

‘Why must it?’ Miss Carew had asked when they were taking a light supper of leftovers in the safety of Linette’s study. ‘Can it not wait until Lord Tresilian is away? To sneak about while he sleeps so close, the risk of being caught … I’m not sure I can bear it.’

It had been agreed she would stay at Plas Helyg again this night. An extra pair of eyes, Henry said, but as he took Miss Carew’s hand in his, Linette suspected he merely wished to keep her close.

‘If I am to remove to the gatehouse tomorrow then our options have been cut short; it would be better we discover as much as possible now while we still have the chance. Dr Evans’ murder, your mother’s mental state – both of these things are linked by the vials. It was Beddoe who roused my suspicions in the first place, but now we know he is a member of a Hellfire club led by your cousin, and that Julian ordered your mother’s sedation. These things, they are all connected, and the book is the answer, I’m sure of it. Besides, what does waiting achieve? We tried that, and nothing has come of it. No,’ said Henry firmly, ‘we’ve waited long enough.’

Linette started to reply – with what exactly she did not know – but then a knock came at the door and there was no need.

‘Come in.’

It was Cadoc who opened the door, Angharad hovering behind him in the passageway.

‘Are you finished here, Miss Linette?’

‘Yes, Cadoc,’ Linette said, pushing her half-eaten leftovers of oyster loaf away from her, ‘we are finished.’