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Eden.
     
    As
the powerful horse galloped easily, Russell Locke slid his whip into the slot
alongside his saddle. His hair, black and full and long, lay plastered with
sweat against the sides of his face. The road was deserted in all directions, a
lonely stretch, leading to the even lonelier moors. He had The Hanging Man to
look forward to a few miles ahead, the last public house before he crossed
Exmoor. He would stop there for a quick pint to ease his parched throat and his
doubts.
     
    Daybreak
snorted in confusion, bewildered that speed was no longer required of him.
Russell let the reins go limp, gave the horse his head. Now sitting well back
in the saddle, his mind returned to his unfortunate sister, locked up in the
Keep like a common criminal, facing the whipping oak come morning.
     
    A
knot formed in his throat, not so much out of pity for Marianne, but rather
suddenly seeing himself in her same predicament, feeling in his imagination his
own arms being bound around the whipping oak, his back laid bare.
     
    The
reins fell from his hands. Engrossed in the coils of this new disquiet, he
stared, unseeing into the night, unaware that Daybreak had wandered ofiE the
road in search of fresh young grass to nibble.
     
    The
self-induced fright gave him even greater pause for thought. He knew about the
tunnel and the secret staircase. Was Lord Eden so foolish to think that a
secret like that could be kept in a village the size of Mortemouth? He also
knew its purpose and intent. Obviously Marianne had made the same discovery and
had come to the same conclusion. He couldn't be held responsible for her
stupidity. He was certain that Lord Eden had given her a chance to prove
herself loyal. And obviously she had turned down that chance. He smiled weakly
into the night. Perhaps the humiliation would do her good, bring her down from
her great airs.
     
    Still,
she was his sister, favored of their father. He leaned forward until his
forehead was resting against the neck of the horse. Oh, God, what to do? He
longed for Jane, the middle sister who had been the closest comfort he'd ever
known, simple Jane who had always sided with him against the favored Marianne,
who, four years ago, no longer able to stand the unfair competition, had bid
him a tearful good-bye and had gone off to London to make her own way in the
world.
     
    The
main outline of his dilemma was this. He knew there was profit to be had by
completing his journey to Exeter. But there might be greater profit by spending
the night at The Hanging Man and returning to Mortemouth on the morning, dirty,
exhausted, and empty-handed. His father would never forgive him, but then his
father need never know. There would be ways of letting Lord Eden know of his
abortive journey, and in anticipation of his future silence, the Lord of the
Castle might find it within his power to be very generous.
     
    These
thoughts occupied him completely. Daybreak wandered farther and farther afield,
clearly enjoying the feast of tender grass. And Russell, in his own way,
followed suit, slumped idly in the saddle, concentrating on nothing visible,
rather seeing himself standing before a most grateful Lord Eden, receiving a
full purse, lasting gratitude, and perhaps—and here his pulse quickened—a
trusted position inside the castle.
     
    He
looked sharply up at the night sky and laughed aloud. Oh, Jesus, what beautiful
visions! Perhaps a horse of his own, decent and varied clothes, always a full
belly, and an endless supply of coin.
     
    With
a kind of fury, his decision was forming. Divine justice perhaps. Even that!
The spoiled arrogant younger sister, the pretty child who had chased off one
sister and made life unbearable for a brother, who had had her way in all
things since the day of her birth was now providing the opened door through
which he might step into paradise.
     
    At
that moment the catastrophe was inevitable, though there was pain inside his
chest, a fundamental frailty which