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trembling with her snores. The candle by the writing desk had burnt out and the only light came from the dying embers in the grate; no sounds rose from below. It would seem the company was all abed.
    Dido’s spirits were severely depressed by the remembrance of Doctor Prowdlee, and she was worn down by close attendance upon an uncongenial companion. And yet, she reminded herself, there was one comfort.
    In exiling her sister-in-law to Charcombe Manor, Margaret had unwittingly bestowed a blessing. For Charcombe was but ten miles from Belsfield Hall. At Belsfield Hall there resided a certain Mr William Lomax; and it was, in point of fact, the many charms and perfections of this gentleman which rendered the sermons and the side whiskers of Doctor Prowdlee particularly repulsive.
    If only Dido could get to Belsfield, then perhaps she might find a solution to all her problems …
    ‘It won’t do at all,’ said Mrs Manners suddenly and her hold reasserted itself.
    Dido started and looked down at the faded, perfect little face sunk in the pillow. The eyes were wide, but unnaturally dark in appearance, and they seemed to be fixed upon some distant object. ‘Aunt Manners, are you feeling unwell?’
    There was no reply for several minutes. The eyes continued to stare upon the distance, persuading Dido that her aunt was not quite awake – though she did not seem to be quite sleeping either. This half-and-half state was perhaps some effect of brown medicine. At last Mrs Manners continued, in a confiding tone. ‘A woman cannot escape, you know. Once they have chosen who she is to marry, she must do her duty by her family.’
    Dido shifted uncomfortably in her seat, for the words touched rather closely on her own musings. ‘Are you talking of Miss Verney?’ she said.
    ‘Letitia is a poor foolish girl.’ Mrs Manners moved her head restlessly upon the pillow. A long white curl escaped from her cap and unravelled across her cheek. ‘She will be at Birmingham now,’ she said.
    ‘Birmingham?’
    ‘Yes. She will have lain at Bristol last night and reached Birmingham today if they drove the horses hard. In three days’ time she will get into Scotland – and then it will be too late.’
    ‘You must not worry about it, Aunt,’ Dido soothed.
    And then an idea occurred.
    Mrs Manners seemed to be asleep – or at least only half sensible – and yet she heard, she answered questions. Perhaps this was the moment for obtaining information she would not give when she was in her senses.
    Dido leant closer and spoke very quietly, but clearly. ‘Aunt Manners, when shall we leave Charcombe?’
    There was a pause. The little face on the pillow creased, the lips worked together a while, making a tiny rustling sound. Then: ‘I cannot leave Charcombe until Letitia is got back.’
    ‘Ah!’
    ‘Lance must get her back – and then everything can be settled.’
    Well, thought Dido, sitting back in her chair, if the finding of Letitia Verney was the necessary preliminary to Mrs Manners’ removal from Charcombe, then Miss Letitia Verney must be found without delay.
    It was refreshing to discover that there was something to be done. Dido’s was an active disposition, better suited to struggling against her imprisonment than quietly accepting the punishment which had been laid upon her. She would help Mr Fenstanton to recover Miss Verney, and then she could escape from here and pay her visit to Belsfield. Her days of suffering and penance might soon be over.

Chapter Five
    Where was Miss Letitia Verney?
    Dido awoke very early next morning with this question uppermost in her mind, and escaped from her own little room while her aunt was still sleeping in the next chamber. She was yawning and heavy-eyed as she tiptoed onto the landing, for she had had barely five hours’ rest. But the chance to be alone, to be, for an hour or so, free from the orders and impertinence of her aunt, amply repaid the loss of sleep.
    She needed air and exercise –