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Julia Roseingrave glided into the kitchen where Goody Cloke was making camomile tea.

‘I have him, Mother Cloke, and without any of your spells,’ she whispered. ‘He has been here this afternoon and with very little ado promised to make me his wife. You see what I have gained by holding back. No town madam of great experience could have behaved with greater discretion.’

‘You are very clever, Miss Roseingrave,’ said Goody Cloke with admiration, ‘and I, poor old woman as I am, have helped a little.’

‘You shall be rewarded,’ said Miss Julia carelessly, ‘you shall be rewarded. I shall pay you good gold every week to stay here with my mother and sister while I go away.’

‘While you go away,’ echoed the old woman. ‘Do you think you are wise? You will give up such a deal when you leave Holcot Grange, will you not? All the places and the people, and the dreams.’

‘I shall see the world, Goody Cloke, for the first time. I shall ride in a carriage. I shall sleep in a gilt bed with vermilion curtains. I shall have diamonds to put round my throat and pearls to put in my ears. I shall have fine paints and unguents and powders to put upon my face and make myself a real beauty. I shall go where people admire me. I shall hear music and see dancing, I shall travel and behold many strange spectacles.’

‘Do you think you will be happy?’ said the old woman, crushing the yellow flowers. ‘Do you really suppose that you will not find all those worldly pleasures brittle and hollow?’

‘Sometimes I’m afraid so, sometimes I fear that I have lived here too long. I daresay I shall be homesick for the solitude. And there’s the man himself, Mother Cloke, the man himself.’

‘Does he please you?’ asked the old woman, pausing in her labour. The mangled daisies sent up an acrid perfume.

‘Too well,’ said Miss Roseingrave, ‘too well.’