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The room had remained locked ever since her death.

Judith looked towards the narrow corridor.

If Lady Dunsmore had been using the hidden passages, the sitting room would provide an excellent place to conceal correspondence or parcels. Its windows overlooked a neglected courtyard, and few servants had reason to approach it.

Judith opened the book. It contained a list of dates and initials, together with references to movements of men and equipment. Some of the entries corresponded with information Baines had discussed in Sir Lionel’s study. Others appeared to concern matters which had never been mentioned openly in Judith’s hearing.

Judith stared at the words. There could be no innocent explanation.

Someone intended to use her correspondence as a weapon, and Lady Dunsmore’s brooch had carried instructions through the same network.

She closed the book and slipped it into her pocket, gazing reflectively at the narrow corridor beyond the room.

She ought to summon Baines, yet he was away from the house, and the lady might disappear before she could find him. With Lady Dunsmore having decided to leave Blackthorn, Judith had no assurance that the woman would wait patiently while the gentlemen organized their investigation.

Judith had spent weeks watching gentlemen discuss danger while assuring her that they would attend to it. She had no wish to place herself in unnecessary peril, but neither could she bear the thought of losing the one opportunity to establish the truth. She would send for Baines while she continued to gather evidence.

The sitting room was only a short distance away. She would examine the account book there, determine whether the room had been used recently, and then send for Baines. There was no reason to suppose that Lady Dunsmore, who was presently occupied with her dogs, would discover her before she returned.

The passage beyond the west staircase smelled of dust, old wood, and damp plaster. Judith carried a candle, although a little daylight entered through a narrow window near the ceiling.

The key turned reluctantly in the lock and she pushed open the door of her aunt’s apartments.

Her aunt’s sitting room had once been elegant. Faded blue silk covered the walls, and a marble fireplace stood beneath an elaborate looking-glass, the silvering of which had darkened with age. A sofa draped in Holland covers occupied one wall, while several chairs had been stacked beneath the windows.

Judith sat and opened the book. At first glance, the entries appeared to concern ordinary expenses: payments to servants, repairs, travel costs, and purchases of jewellery. Yet the sums were accompanied by initials and dates which corresponded with the paper she had found in the cabinet.

Several entries referred to payments made through coaching inns, one bearing the name of Mallory.

Judith remembered Mallory’s account of the supposed government agent who had employed him. Her hands grew cold. She turned another page and found a folded letter addressed to Lady Dunsmore.

The writer discussed the delivery of information concerning military dispositions and warned that the recent disturbances had made further communication dangerous. A reference to a contact beyond the border removed any lingering doubt that the correspondence concerned more than domestic politics.

Judith read it twice. Then she carefully returned it to the book. She had found her proof. The realization brought little satisfaction.

Lady Dunsmore had sat at Sir Lionel’s table, accepted his hospitality, and used his household to conduct a conspiracy. Worse still, she had coldly selected Judith as a convenient victim should the scheme be discovered.

Judith thought of the families whose suffering she had described in her letters, of the hungry children and unemployed men whose circumstances had troubled her conscience. She had written because she believed that people with influence ought to understand what was happening beyond their comfortable drawing rooms.

Lady Dunsmore intended to turn that concern into evidence of disloyalty. Judith’s anger steadied her. She closed the book and slipped it beneath her arm. At that moment, a soft sound came from the doorway. Judith turned and saw Lady Dunsmore standing on the threshold.

For once, her ladyship wore neither an elaborate shawl nor an expression of perpetual dissatisfaction. Her dark gown was severe, and her hair had been arranged without the fashionable curls which ordinarily framed her face.

She looked older, and considerably more dangerous. “I wondered how long it would take you,” she said.

Judith tightened her hold upon the book. “Lady Dunsmore.” She hoped her greeting did not reveal the dismay she felt.

“You have always been an inquisitive girl.” Her ladyship’s tone was almost conversational.

“I prefer to think myself observant.”

“A quality which can prove exceedingly inconvenient.”

Judith glanced towards the door.

Lady Dunsmore noticed. “You need not trouble yourself. I have no intention of harming you if you behave sensibly.”

“Then perhaps you will allow me to pass?”