It did. I found the capon good and there was no doubt that my strength was reviving.

“Here is a good wine which will put heart into you. Drink it. It will make you feel better.”

He helped himself to the great pie which was on the table and ate hungrily. He drank of the wine.

“Now there is some colour in her cheeks,” he said. “Come, more wine. Tell me, do you not feel better?”

I said I did.

“Tomorrow you and your mother will be laughing at this adventure.”

“I think we shall always shudder with horror to recall it.”

“It was a bad moment when that knave galloped off with you. I never doubted that I would catch up with you though. My great regret is that I was unable to give him his dues. I might well yet.”

“You would not recognize him if you met him again.”

“Masked as he was mayhap not. I should know his horse though.”

He filled my glass. “It is enough,” I said.

“Oh come, your spirits must be revived by the time your mother arrives.”

“Do you really think they will find her?”

“How can they fail? There are four of them … all going in different directions … they must find her for she will either be on the road or in one of the inns.”

“But there was only one—the Roses. She was not there.”

“Perhaps she went there later.”

“I should have stayed there.”

“Nay, you are better here …”

I was beginning to feel a little light-headed. It was the shock, I supposed, and then the wine. His voice seemed to grow somewhat faint as though it was coming from a long way off.

He was saying: “Let me give you some of this partridge.”

The room swayed a little. I thought: God help me, the wine was potent.

He was watching me, smiling at me, cutting the partridge with his knife.

I could not see his face clearly. It was becoming more and more blurred. I heard myself say: “I think … I think I should go …”

I stood up. He was there beside me.

I felt the room, everything, slipping away and was only aware of his face near me … his eyes were enormous … there was nothing but those great black pools of eyes … I felt as though I was trying to swim in dark pools and I was sinking.

I felt myself caught up suddenly. And I knew that he was holding me.

I heard his voice, strange, lilting. “All is well. All is very well.”

I started up. Something had happened to me. I did not know where I was. I was shut in a green prison. There was light somewhere shining from outside on the walls. I was different. Something had changed me. I gave a little gasp, for I was naked. There was a light sheet over me and nothing more.

I sat up. I was in a bed … I knew instinctively that it was the four-poster I had seen last night, for in those seconds memory came back. I had come to Castle Paling. My mother and I had been separated. I had sat down to eat and drink and that was all.

But I knew. Horrible knowledge was tapping on my mind. Did I remember something of it? What had taken place during the night? It could not have been. And yet I knew it. Some hazy memory came back to me. It was the wine. It had dulled my consciousness. It had changed me in some way. I knew this was so. Edwina had told me there were herbs which drug your senses and make you oblivious of what was happening … and yet …

I must be dreaming and yet I was aware of the changes in my body.

It was impossible. Gingerly I knelt on the bed and drew aside the curtains. It was the light of day I saw which had fallen against them and lightened them. I stepped out of the bed. My clothes lay in a heap on the floor. I looked at my body and saw the bruises on it.

I knew then.

He came through a door of what must have been an ante-room to this chamber. He had a robe round his body beneath which I guessed he was naked. I snatched up my gown and held it against me.

“Such modesty is becoming,” he said.

He laughed and he was the man at the inn then, in all his arrogant triumph. If I had had any doubts before I could no longer do so.

“I must know what happened,” I said.

“Do you not remember?”

“What was in my wine?”

“A little of my special … tonic.”

“You must be possessed by the devil.”

“It is not unlikely.”

“You … you arranged this.”

“It happened.”

“My father will kill you.”

“I believe him to be a man who is very handy with the sword. I have a similar reputation.”

“Do you think you will be allowed to do … what you have done and not be punished? You will die for this.”

“I was very gallant. Nothing was done against your will.”

“I had no will.”

“Then how could it have been done against it?”

“What have you done to me?”

“Made a woman of you, Linnet. What a foolish name. A little bird. There is nothing of the bird about you. You are a very tigress in your passion.”

“My passion …”

“Oh, it was there. You were not displeased to be so taken. Believe me. It was a great experience for us both.”

“Will you go away. I wish to dress and leave this place at once.”

“That’s a pity. We were so happy together … you and I. And I have news for you. Your mother is at your home. I sent messengers there last night reassuring her that you were safe …”

“Safe!”

“Safe indeed. I said you would be returned to her this day.”

I turned away from him. “Oh God,” I murmured, “what shall I do?”

“There are several courses open to you. I will tell you the most attractive first. I am in need of a wife and having tested you I find you well enough.”

“You are insulting and I would rather be dead.”

“You are impetuous. You were not so very unhappy last night. You responded very happily.”

“I remember nothing and at least I can be grateful for that!”

“You will remember. Memory will lurk in the dark places of your mind. The little virgin that you were does not want to remember. But you have forgotten you are no longer that little virgin. You were eager enough, I tell you, and who was I to deny a lady whose needs accord with my own?”

“Be silent!”

“You must not speak so to your lord and master.”

“That you shall never be.”

“Why not? We may well be an impatient couple who have forestalled our marriage vows.”

“This is a nightmare. It can’t be true.”

“It is and a simple enough story. You came here. You drank too much wine and that released your natural impulses. As I have told you, I am not the man—nor would you find many—to refuse what was so charmingly offered. You will never find a lover such as I. Nor one who gallantly offers you marriage after what many would call your wanton behaviour. Come, do not be shy. I have seen you naked, remember. And beautiful you are, and will grow more so. What is it to be? How would you like to become the châtelaine of Castle Paling?”

“Go away,” I said. “I wish to go. I will not stay a moment longer than I need in this place.”

To my surprise he stood up and bowed.

He said: “You must eat before we leave. I will have something prepared for you. Then I shall take you back to your home.”

I was alone. I looked at the bed, the curtains drawn back at one side. I shuddered. What a fool I had been. I should never have come here. How clear it all was now. I should have seen it. What a cruel trick of fate to have been delivered into his hands. He had said that I would remember. Did I? Could I recall strange sensations which frightened me and fascinated me … as he himself did.

I dressed hastily, anxious to cover up those bruises.

One of the women servants came in with a tankard of ale and a piece of cob loaf and meat. I could not eat but I did drink a little.

Out in the courtyard my horse was saddled. So was his. He looked fresh and vital.

He himself helped me into the saddle. He took my hand and looked up into my face, as though he were pleading with me, yet I saw the mockery there.