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‘He has none, Giles. Haven’t enough sons lost their lives these last few years? Do we really need my husband, a good man, spending who knows how long being prodded and poked, tested and humiliated, probably even hurt through their wretched treatments?’ Tears welled again but she swallowed hard. ‘I refuse to cry. What I’m going to do is fight this and everyone who stands in my way.’

‘I’m truly very sorry.’

‘I know you are, which is why I’m going to need your help to get Matthew away from here as soon as we can.’

Alex set off, her boots crunching loudly on the gravel against the frigid quiet surrounding this place of fear and madness, so that each footstep sounded like a protest . . . no, a warning, she hoped. And as she strode into the darkness her heart was feeling as chilled as the season towards Harry and his fellow conspirators, who she was sure were watching her lonely but determined figure disappear into the night.

25

When Alex arrived home, exhausted and mentally battered, a worried Norma greeted her.

‘Lady Frobisher wished to go home, Mrs Britten-Jones. I couldn’t persuade her to wait for you and Sir Frobisher to —’

‘No, that’s fine, Norma. Did you order a carriage?’

‘She wasn’t in any state so I telephoned Mr Potter and had him bring the car around. She was brighter for seeing him. I have since checked with him to ensure Lady Frobisher was safely home.’

‘Thank you, Norma. You’re an angel. I’m so sorry about this evening and I know you have questions but I am desperately fatigued and need some time to think everything through. I’m going to lean on your tolerance and your discretion.’ She eyed the housekeeper firmly to show there was to be no tittle-tattle.

‘That goes without saying, Mrs Britten-Jones. I know I shouldn’t but I regard you and your husband as family.’

Alex nodded tiredly but squeezed the woman’s hand in appreciation.

‘There’s one more thing; I’m sorry to tax you but he wouldn’t leave.’

‘He?’

‘Said he’d wait on the steps outside until you returned home. I couldn’t permit that, of course.’

‘Who?’ Her mind raced first to James Feeney.

‘Mr Blakeney, madam. He’s in your salon. I hope that was the right decision?’

‘I’ll speak with him; thank you, Norma,’ she said, her voice as cold as the winter night.

‘Should I bring up some . . .?’

‘Nothing is needed, thank you. He won’t be staying long.’ She gave her coat, gloves, scarf and hat to the housekeeper.

She didn’t so much as pause outside the salon to find calm, but stepped into the room to see Harry already standing, waiting for her.

‘I heard you arrive. How are you?’

‘How do you think?’

His expression reflected slight surprise but he didn’t appear to be fully taken aback. Harry opened his mouth to say more but she wasn’t going to let him control this conversation or stay a second longer in her home than was necessary.

‘You’ve got a nerve coming here, Harry. In fact, I’ll tell you what I told Matthew’s father not so long ago because I now rate you as low a creature as I do Chetwin Britten-Jones, and that is that you are no longer welcome in my home. I want you to leave now and I hope our paths never cross again.’

She watched the words impact on him like a hard slap before his gaze narrowed, along with the lips she couldn’t get enough of only hours ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed since they’d made love in Charlotte’s cottage and she had felt her heart open entirely to this man.

‘As you wish,’ he replied, his tone calm, quiet.

‘Have you any idea what they’re doing to Matthew right now?’

‘Well, I’m hopeful they took him to the County Asylum rather than prison?’

‘Then you can head back to your bride happy that your hopes have been answered. That’s where he is with a monster called Dr Ely, who plans to give him a disease or perhaps some drug therapy that’s supposed to shock him out of his “moral imbecility”!’