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Elizabeth put her finger beside the name of the place upon Darcy’s sheet.

“You had not read this.”

“No.”

Nor had she. The dream’s account of the prison room remained a thing only Darcy had seen in sleep. But the place of execution, Mara’s attempt to reach Elspeth, and the accusation against Nicholas stood in both accounts.

“Heresy,” Elizabeth said. “That was the charge. Afterwards they remembered only a witch and a burning.”

Reynolds nodded. “My grandmother copied the word here. I did not understand why it mattered before we read the journal.”

Darcy looked at the old papers. “Does she give the words spoken at the fire?”

“She describes the same thread-work,” Elizabeth said, reading on.

Mrs. Reynolds nodded. “At first.”

The copied account was not complete. In two places the housekeeper’s grandmother had left a space, followed by a note directing the reader to a page of Mara’s book. There were lines she could not read even when the original papers had been younger by half a century.

Enough remained.

Mara had known how Elspeth held the little loop open. She had fetched thread and sat beside women while her mistress used it. Upon the common she saw the familiar turn begin, then watched Elspeth pull the inner strand tight instead of letting it pass free.

Elizabeth followed the description with her finger above the paper, keeping clear of the ink.

“‘Within those walls,’” she read. “‘When women are brought to bed. Let the binding hold.’”

The sentence ended near the margin. Mara had written something after it which the copy called a cry, but had not attempted to reproduce.

Elizabeth looked up at Mrs. Reynolds.

“She had helped them.”

“Yes.”

“Women like Alice.”

“Yes, miss.”

It was the part Elizabeth found hardest to bear. Nicholas had betrayed his wife. The people upon the common had watched a woman die. Yet Alice Reed had gone to her mother to be delivered, and her child had done nothing at all.

Elizabeth had begun by wishing to understand Elspeth. She still wished it. Understanding the terror did not make the words upon the page less dreadful.

Darcy moved his hand from the back of the chair.

“May I keep the copy of those words?”

Elizabeth copied the words onto a fresh sheet and gave it to him. He read it before folding it, then looked at her.

“I should like to stay.”

“Then stay.”

“Charles will be waiting. I promised to go through the builder’s letter with him.”

“We shall still be here when you have finished.”

He hesitated, thanked Reynolds, and went. Elizabeth watched the door close. He had wanted to remain because he was troubled, and had kept his promise to Charles instead. There were choices she could observe while they were both awake.