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ever to face him? She wanted to crawl away and hide and never see nor hear of him again.
    But she owed him an explanation. Besides, she realized in dismay, he was bound to have taken back the sphinx signet from her pocket. After her disastrous effort to avoid the unpleasant business, she had no choice but to beg him to let her redeem Ralph’s ring.
    A groan escaped her.
    Miss Thorne composedly set aside her knitting and approached the bed. “You are awake, Miss Bertrand? You are in some discomfort, I fear.” Her acid tone conveyed, “which is precisely what you deserve.”
    An immediate impulse to contradict led Mariette to declare, “I’m more hungry than anything else, ma’am.” It was almost true. In excited anticipation of her adventure, she had skimped on breakfast this morning.
    “Humph!” With a sniff, Miss Thorne reached for the bell-pull at the head of the bed. “How you are to eat and drink without sitting up, I am sure I cannot guess.”
    “I’ll manage,” said Mariette, determined to consume every crumb and drop of whatever was set before her, if only to prove the harridan wrong.
    The chamber door was behind her so she did not see it open. A warm, slow Devonshire voice, a woman’s, said, “You rang, ma’am?”
    “Bring bread and butter and tea for Miss Bertrand, Pennick. And light the lamp before you go.”
    “Yes’m.” A middle-aged, rosy-cheeked woman in a light brown woollen dress came round the bed and smiled at Mariette. Jenny Pennick, Lady Lilian’s abigail. She lit the lamp on the dressing table by the window. “‘Tis a good sign you’re hungry, miss,” she murmured as she passed back towards the door.
    At least bread and butter should be quite easy to eat, though Mariette felt in need of something considerably more substantial. How she was to cope with tea she had no idea.
    Miss Thorne returned to her chair and her knitting. She made no attempt at further communication, so Mariette laboriously raised herself and turned her head to the right to face the door. The bump on her head, on the left side, was distinctly tender. However, her neck was beginning to grow stiff from too long in the same strained position.
    The door opened and Lady Lilian came in. “My maid tells me you are hungry, Miss Bertrand,” she said kindly. “You are feeling more the thing? I am so glad.”
    “There was no need for Pennick to disturb you, Lilian,” grumbled Miss Thorne. “You have already done far more than anyone could expect--”
    “I told Jenny to inform me when our patient roused, Cousin Tabitha. I have drunk my tea and you must be ready for yours. Do go down and join Emily and Malcolm.”
    Poor Emily and Malcolm, thought Mariette. Though perhaps Cousin Tabitha approved of them.
    At the door, Miss Thorne met Jenny Pennick bearing a tray. She glanced at it, sniffed loudly, and departed, closing the door behind her with a hint of a slam. As the door shut, the bed began to shake. Frightened, Mariette wondered if she was falling into a fit caused by the knock on the head. She clutched the pillow.
    But Lady Lilian and Jenny were looking at the floor by the bed and smiling. Jenny giggled. A moment later Ragamuffin put his front feet on the bed and licked Mariette’s face.
    Tears filled Mariette’s eyes as she hugged him with one arm. “Did the old witch drive you into hiding?” she whispered in his ear.
    He licked her again, pulled his head free, and gathered his haunches for a leap.
    “Down, boy!” Mariette yelped.
    Jenny grabbed his collar. “Oh no you don’t, my fine fellow. The floor’s the place for the likes o’ you.”
    “Does he sleep on your bed at home?” asked Lady Lilian, caught between amusement and dismay.
    “Sometimes.”
    “I had a cat when I was a girl...Well, that is long past. Jenny, let us see if between us we can raise Miss Bertrand a little with pillows so that she may swallow more easily. Oh dear, you are going to be uncomfortable whatever we do.”
    “That’s