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real voice, or just part of the jangle in her head?
    ‘Are you hurt? Can I be of assistance?’
    Cora tried to find the voice, and there was something leaning over her – a face, she thought, not the fox man, someone different. His eyes were looking at her, looking for something, she thought suddenly, but then he spoke again.
    ‘Can you hear me? You have fallen from your horse. Can you move your limbs?’
    My limbs, thought Cora, in limbo. I am in limbo, always in limbo. She smiled and the man, who she saw now was a young man, smiled back. It was not an easy smile, but a hard-won smile of pure relief.
    ‘Oh, thank God, you are alive. I thought for one minute when I saw you that you were…Here, let me help you.’ He put his arm under Cora’s back and helped her to sit.
    ‘But this,’ she said, ‘is not my country. I shouldn’t be here. I am an American girl.’ She didn’t know why exactly but for some reason it was very important to say that now. There was something she knew that she did not want to be taken for. The young man nodded his head in acknowledgement.
    ‘No indeed, this is my country. This is my wood, my land. My family have lived here for seven hundred years. But you are most welcome, Miss…?’
    ‘Cash. I am Cora Cash. I am very rich. I have a flour fortune, not flower you can smell but flour you make bread with. Bread, you know, is the staff of life. Would you like to kiss me? Most men want to, but I am just too rich.’ And then she felt the darkness coming again, and before the young man could answer, she fainted into his arms.

Chapter 4

Hot Water

    T HIS TIME WHEN CORA OPENED HER EYES SHE saw a wooden angel looking at her with vacant eyes. She was in a bed, a bed with a roof and curtains. But she awoke clear-if sore-headed. She was Cora Cash, she had fallen off her horse and now she was where? And wearing what? She gave a little scream of dismay and suddenly there was a flurry of movement and heads male and female bending over her.
    ‘Miss Cash – you are Miss Cash, I think,’ said a voice she recognised. It was the man in the wood. Something had happened there. But what? There were things there she could almost feel, sounds she could almost hear, shapes she could almost distinguish but they lay behind a veil she couldn’t penetrate. This was irritating, there was something important there, if only she could remember. Like her mother, Cora had no patience for obstacles.
    ‘Miss Cash from America I believe,’ said the voice again with a suggestion of meaning that Cora found vaguely troubling. This man with dark hair and clear brown eyes seemed very wellinformed, and why was he smiling?
    ‘I found you lying on the ground in Paradise Wood. I carried you back here. I’ve called the doctor.’
    ‘But how do you know my name?’ Cora said.
    ‘Don’t you remember our conversation?’ The man was teasing her, but why?
    ‘No, I don’t remember anything since riding out this morning – well, nothing that makes sense anyway. I remember your face but that’s all. How did I fall? Is Lincoln all right?’
    ‘You mean the fine American horse? He is in the stables where his Republican opinions are causing my groom much anguish,’ the man said.
    ‘And how long have I been here? What about Mother, does she know where I am? She will be furious. I must go back.’ Cora tried to sit up, but the movement made her feel nauseous, she could feel hot bile flooding into her mouth. To vomit in front of this strange Englishman would be unbearable. She bit her lip.
    ‘My dear Miss Cash, I’m afraid you must stay here until the doctor arrives. Head injuries can be treacherous. Perhaps you would like to write to your mother.’ The man turned to the woman beside him; Cora guessed that she was some kind of servant.
    ‘Perhaps you could get some writing paper for Miss Cash, Mrs Softley.’
    The housekeeper left in a rustle of bombazine.
    ‘You know my name, but I don’t know yours.’
    The man smiled.