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carbolic acid into the water, a sweet tarry smell that was both familiar and unexpected. As far as she knew, few people knew of the importance of disinfecting wounds properly.
    ‘Cook was one of Nightingale’s nurses in the Crimea. She is a stickler for cleanliness. She’s saved more than one poor soul’s life,’ Jasper said softly, noting her interest in the proceedings.
    ‘Ah, that explains much. Carbolic is still uncommon , outside of larger hospitals.’
    ‘Really? I know little about medicine. I am a philosopher.’ Jasper smiled cynically, demeaning his chosen career by his tone.
    Another cry of pain had Phil’s focus returning to the patient. Cook was bathing the wounds clean of blood and dirt. She could now clearly see the gouges. They were three long, deep cuts that reminded her of a cat’s scratches. But no cat was big enough to inflict such a wound, unless it was a tiger or lion, and no one had spoken about an escaped circus animal in the area. Could a man have drawn a blade repeatedly across this man’s belly, to create such a wound? It seemed unlikely.
    Cook gave her patient a piece of leather to bite down on as she sutured the wound. Her competence was inspiring. No d octor could have done better, to Phil’s mind. Then she applied a salve and bandaged the wound with clean cloth.
    ‘What could make a wound like that? It was like he was clawed,’ she asked.
    ‘ Byron will explain,’ Jasper replied stiffly.
    ‘But he has gone to investigate. He may be gone for some hours. You all seem to know wh at is happening here. Can no one enlighten me?’ She was growing more and more exasperated by the mystery that surrounded her.
    ‘Miss Davenport, I know we must appear impolite and unwelcoming, but ours is not a civilized existence. You will understand, once Byron has explained all this to you. Until then, be patient. I must go, please feel free to take in the gardens, the library or the study, while you await Byron’s return.’
    With that , Jasper gave a little bow, and turned on his heel to leave. Phil was left staring at his broad shouldered back, her next words left unspoken. For all his civility, Jasper was not going to bend to her wishes. Whatever the secret the Keep held, she was not going to find it out from him.
     
     

 
    CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    Phil wandered out into the garden, at a loss what to do with herself until Byron returned. She would have liked to get settled in, but as she was not sure whether she would be keeping the room he’d allocated her the night before, or whether it would have to be given back to the harridan, Charlotte, because she was paying for it, she wasn’t sure. Better if she just busied herself getting familiar with her surroundings.
    The gardens would have formed the centre of the Keep’s grounds if the structure still stood as it had hundreds of years before. Instead, it had become a walled garden, the tumbled down stones used to form a barrier to keep the moorland sheep out of the vegetables and flowers.
    This was no pretty manicured garden, but a well laid out multi-purpose horticultural domain. In one corner , there was a large vegetable patch, where the rough workman she had seen at breakfast was busy hoeing.
    Next to it was a n herb garden where a plethora of different culinary and medicinal herbs were growing in lush abandon. She was surprised to see plants that came from more temperate climates planted in with the more hardy local herbs. There was a fleshy cactus, with broad flat leaves that she guessed must be an aloe plant. She had read that they were good for healing.
    In a long border closest to the Keep, were beds of roses. There were so many varieties she was at a loss to name them all, and their smell was intoxicating. She wandered amongst the bushes, stopping to smell the prettiest blooms. They reminded her of the rose water she had bathed with only a few short hours before.
    ‘This is my garden. You are not welcome here,’ declared a shrill