'This makes no sense whatsoever,' I say, after Papa has dismissed Marie, Aggie and Silas.

I have scanned the contents of Lizzie's letter so many times that the words become a jumble, letters elongating and twisting together like tiny serpents on the page.

'Why on Earth would she stand in our very parlour room one day and point the finger of blame at Daniel, and then confess to Mama's murder so very quickly?' I touch a fingertip to where she has signed her name, tracing the shaky italics of her usually immaculate penmanship. 'What has happened to you, Lizzie?' I whisper.

'You do not believe it?' William says. His scowl has returned, that petulant wrinkle of his forehead that often means an outburst is due to follow.

'I know not what to believe,' I say. 'I know something was very peculiar about Lizzie's recent behaviour. She has seemed terribly out-of-sorts of late, but to be admitted to Shelton Hospital of all places? No... there is something very wrong and I intend to find out just what that is, but not before we take this letter to the town gaol and demand that the constables release Daniel.'

Papa looks vexed. 'I agree. To accuse Mr. Carver and then retract that accusation and put herself in his place seems an odd thing for Elizabeth to do. Of course, we cannot discount that she was overcome with guilt and shame at framing an innocent man, but we also must remember that she has resided at Lutwyche for some time now. I worry that everyone in that house is in grave danger indeed.'

'Oh, Papa, you do not think that the Hawkstone family could be harmed, do you?' The Hawkstone children had always been a handful, that much I knew from Lizzie herself, but the thought of any harm coming to them was more than I could bear. And Mama would have been devastated if anything happened to her friend, Mrs. Hawkstone.

'I know not, Lillian dear,' Papa says, rubbing at his troubled brow. 'But I do think we need to take measures to warn them at least.'

'And do you really think they would believe us?' William says. 'Papa, even you must admit this tale is somewhat... fantastical.'

'That it is.' Papa nods. 'But try we must. First, however, we must do what Lillian says and get Mr. Carver released. I only pray we are not too late, and he has not yet been transported to Shrewsbury Prison.'

My heart judders. 'I'll have Silas prepare the trap. We must leave immediately.'

A hammering at the door sends my already-juddering heart almost bursting from my rib cage. The knocking is incessant, punctuated by rumbunctious pulls of the bell that make it sound as if a crowd of people gather outside. William looks wildly to me, and I am sure he too is thinking of the storm that had gathered at Daniel's door, and of how we pushed our backs against it, desperate to fend off whatever dark force sought to tear the house to pieces in its efforts to reach us.

Papa has gone before we can stop him, heading along the hallway in long strides, hampered only by Marie who scuttles past him, much like she has six legs instead of two. She opens the door, only to almost be squashed as a figure bursts through the gap, all flushed-face and tear-stained cheeks. Her dark hair has come loose from its binds, her coat unbuttoned.

'Jenny!' William exclaims, pushing past me as Mr. Darborough's granddaughter practically throws herself at him, her sobs echoing through the hallway.

'Jennifer?' Papa asks. 'Whatever is the matter?'

Jenny releases William, only to grab my father's arm. 'Oh, Admiral Elmes, please, you must help! Grandfather has gone quite mad!'

'Mad? What on Earth do you mean?'

'Oh, Admiral, he was saying the most terrible things. He said the Devil came to him, sir. He said it sent a flock of crows to torment him. He arrived home in such a dreadful state, all bleeding and his cloths torn. Dr. Benedict said that it was just the drink talking and making him recount such hysterical stories, but he was like a madman. He said he would not let the Devil threaten him so.'

Jenny stares wide-eyed at him, her fingers digging into his arm. 'The Doctor said to fetch you, sir. He said you would know what to do. Do you, Admiral? I am so very worried for him. I would hate for him to hurt someone in this state.'

'Why would he hurt someone?' I ask.

'He took his Lancaster from the gun cabinet! He said he would finish it once and for all. He is set to go to Lutwyche. I have no idea why; I really do not. That is why I can only think he has gone quite mad. You must come, sir, if we go now, we can stop him.'

Papa looks to William and me, clearly torn.

'Papa, it is quite alright,' I say firmly. 'You must go with Jenny. I can go to the gaol and then Daniel and I will go to the asylum to see Lizzie. Once we have discovered what has happened to her, we can meet you at Mr. Darborough's house.'

'And what of me?' William says.

'Oh, William, will you come with us?' Jenny says, turning her water-filled eyes upon my brother. 'Please, I beg you!'

Of course, there is no possible way that my dear brother is going to say no, but I see he too is torn between his sister and his heart.

'Honestly, William, you must go with Jenny and Papa,' I say, waving off his protests. 'I will be completely fine. From the sounds of it, Jenny will need you if Papa is to deal with Mr. Darborough. You must ensure she is out of harm's way.'

'Then it is decided,' Papa says with a grim nod of his head. 'Silas?' He calls out. 'Fetch both traps, please.' He grasps my hand, and I see it all there – his guilt, his grief, the exhaustion, all three weighing so heavily upon him. Whatever anger I felt before is abated. He is still Papa, and while he is clearly more flawed than I would ever have imagined of my anchor, I know that whatever terrible things I thought of him are untrue and for that, I am truly grateful.

'My flower, Lily, promise me you will be careful?'

I lift my chin, shooting him my bravest smile. 'Papa, when have you ever known me to be anything but?'

The town gaol sits aside St. Lawrence's Church, a stark, cold-looking building that appears to be held together with the glue of damp and rot. It holds none of the red-bricked beauty of the church itself and no wonder, for it only serves as a holding cell for the desperate, grim souls of the accused, before they are transported to Shewsbury Prison.

As I tether the reins of the trap outside, I send up a silent prayer that I am not too late. Another trap awaits next to mine, and if it be the constables from the prison, then hopefully I am just in time before Daniel is taken into their custody.

Gripping the letter tightly, accompanied by a secondary document written in haste by Papa demanding Daniel's release, I ring the bellpull and wait, my foot tapping impatiently – and anxiously – against the front step.

Just as I am about to sound the bell once more, the door is opened, and I see the blanched face of one of the constables who came to arrest Daniel.

'Constable Cooper?' I say, recognising the young man who I recall once had a rather amusing affection for Lizzie. Of course, most young men do have an affection for her – or at least, they did. 'Good day, sir. I come to present you with these documents and demand the release of Mr. Daniel Carver from your custody.'

Constable Cooper opens the door wider, his brow raised, a glimmer of amusement in his smirk. 'Demand the Sin-Eater's release? Miss Elmes, begging your pardon, but did you get a knock about the head?'

I scowl at him. 'I certainly did not. I have here a testimony from Miss Elizabeth Darby that she did...' An ache is building in my chest at the thought of her words. I swallow it down for now is not the time for sentiment. 'That she was the responsible for my mother's death. I also have a letter written by my father, Admiral Richard Elmes, that Mr. Carver is not to blame and any accusations against him are falsehood, and he should thereby be released without further charge.'

The Constable opens the door fully, all amusement vanished. 'A testimony, you say? Let me see this.'

I hand him Lizzie's letter and watch, torn between satisfaction and sadness as his eyes widen, drinking in every word of my friend's confession.

'Blimey...' he says, and then as if he knows not what else to say. 'Blimey.'

'Now, sir,' I say, somewhat impatiently. 'You can see that Miss Darby has confessed to false accusation of Mr. Carver. I think you will agree that he should now be released.'

Constable Cooper blinks as he looks up at me, his expression dazed.

'Oh, for goodness sake, man, get to it,' I snap, pushing past him into the gaol building. 'You must release Mr. Carver this instant.'

'Miss...' the Constable calls out weakly as I bluster through. 'It is too late... he is...'

I enter the room containing the cell, spotting Daniel immediately behind the bars, his eyes meeting mine over the shoulder of the man who stands in front of the cell door.

'Mr. Baker, what business do you have here?'

I would recognise his stance anywhere. Percival himself is quite unremarkable in many ways, but there is no mistaking that imperious way he has about him, nor his quite revolting taste in frockcoats.

Turning slowly, Percival's gazes takes me in fully, a quite brazen thing to do considering we are not in the seclusion of the parlour room today, but with witnesses present.

'Miss Elmes,' he says, his tone dripping with poisoned honey. 'I am here on behalf of the Rector who is currently detained. I am to accompany the prisoner to Shrewsbury Prison and ensure that he is ensconced firmly behind the bars there until his trial. That is my business, but what pray, is yours?' He slicks his tongue across his top lip. 'I must say, I confess to being somewhat disturbed that my future wife believes this to be any sort of a place for a woman to frequent.'

Behind him, Daniel bristles, his eyes boring a hole into the back of Percival's head, although I should imagine he wishes he could bury something else into the man's skull.

'It is unfortunate, sir, but I believe there has been a misunderstanding,' I say to Percy. 'Neither myself nor my parents have agreed to any match between us. Obviously now, since my dear mother's passing, any possible arrangement for which you might have hoped, is quite out of the question.'

I have never seen a man's face go quite an alarming shade of red as Percival's does now. It starts from the neck, where his collar is fastened so tight that his flesh is strangled and travels up his cheeks until I think his head might explode with the pressure.

'Mr. Baker, are you quite well? You look as if you might need a glass of water or some fresh air.' I give him my most innocent smile, but of course, the likes of a man such as Percival Baker has no such innocence, nor anyway to hide his most distasteful anger.

'We... we had a mutual understanding of the situation,' he splutters. 'They were quite distressed when I spoke to them and keen to ensure their only daughter did not sully her reputation any further...'

'Mr. Baker,' I interrupt him. 'My reputation is mine and mine alone and not for the likes of you or any man to judge me upon, although I think it would be sullied beyond repair if I were to enter into any arrangement with a man who cares to corner lone women in parlour rooms and attempt to put his hands where they are not welcome.'

'What is this?' the Constable says, stepping forward. While his affection for Lizzie had always been met with some amusement, for he would flush furiously and tend to drop things whenever she was near, I do recall that Constable Cooper had always been a gentleman where women were concerned.

Percival's eyes bulge, and he shakes his head, the fop of curls he uses to cover his receding hairline dropping down onto his forehead, which he desperately tries to push back into place.

'Nothing... it is nothing,' he simpers. 'Merely a woman's hysterics and lies. Nothing more. It is not my fault if Miss Elmes mistook our interaction as nothing more than polite conversation.'

I raise a brow. 'Interesting. I would not have thought that putting your mouth and tongue to an unwedded woman's hand without her express permission was deemed polite conversation, but then again you are clearly a more worldly individual than I.'

Daniel grips the bars, the skin stretching across his tense knuckles. Thunder gathers in his face, and it is a thunder I quite like. I never once thought how good it would feel to be caught in Daniel Carver's storm, but I cannot help but be thrilled by it a little.

'Now look here...' Constable Cooper begins to say, his frown deepening.

'Oh, stuff and nonsense, man!' Percival says and I am sure he even stamps his foot in a tantrum. 'This is all just the ridiculous blithering of a young woman in grief for her dearly departed mother. Miss Elmes, you are not yourself, I can see that quite plainly and I would be glad to summon Dr. Benedict to prevent any further decline into hysteria.'

'Do I really seem that hysterical to you, sir?' I say to the Constable.

Constable Cooper flushes but shakes his head. 'No, Miss, not in the slightest. You seem very calm.'

'Exactly,' I say with a satisfied nod. 'Now, if you would not mind, Mr. Baker, but in fact, I do very much have important business and that is to oversee the release of Mr. Carver. The Constable here has the relevant documents to authorise this.'

If Percival was going to explode before, I am surprised how he does not combust and burst into flames before my very eyes now.

'Release Mr. Carver?' he says, his voice becoming increasingly high in pitch. 'How can that be? I am to take him to Shrewsbury Prison this instant. The Rector expressly asked me to do this. This man is to be tried for witchcraft and murder...witchcraft, I say!'

'Both of which, he is innocent of,' I say, doing my best to stay calm even though my distaste of this man is leading me to have very distasteful thoughts about kicking him quite firmly where it would hurt him the most. 'These documents in the hands of the Constable testify to this fact.'

Percival reaches out and grabs the letters from the Constable, his hands shaking as he opens an reads Lizzie's confession. Although there is nothing, I can do to prevent this news from making its way into the world, I admit to feeling somewhat aggrieved each time someone else is party to Lizzie's confession. If it be true, of course, I owe her nothing at all and she does not deserve my friendship nor even my pity, but I cannot marry the girl I knew with the words written by her own hand on that letter.

'This... this is.... No, it simply cannot be!' Percy stammers, folding up the letter and brandishing it at us. 'What is this utter fabrication?'

'I'm afraid it's no fabrication, as you say,' the Constable says. 'It has the stamp of the head doctor at Shelton Hospital right there on that letter, sir. It seems Miss Darby really has confessed and the Admiral himself calls for the Sin-Eater's release. With a confession such as this, I cannot hold him any longer.'

'Damn it, man, do you not think that the witch has cast his spell on this woman and forced her to confess to his despicable crimes?'

I roll my eyes in exasperation. 'Has he bewitched my father too, Mr. Baker? If you feel that to be the case, then I would be more than happy to bid him come here with Dr. Benedict and have the good doctor assess him before your eyes as to whether that is the case. And if he is deemed in good health, would you then believe the Doctor to be bewitched? For they are good friends, are they not? Mayhap they are in cahoots together in this conspiracy of yours?' I tap my finger against my lips. 'In fact, is not your own father a good and long-term acquaintance of both the Admiral and the Doctor? Mayhap he is a part of this too? Let us bid your father come here too and we shall call the Church to imprison them all until we can effectively ensure that they are either all or none of them bewitched.'

Percival's mouth drops open, before he snaps it shut, ushering the documents back into the hands of the Constable.

'I am afraid my father is currently detained with other affairs. He has... had to go away on business.'

I watch, dumbfounded, as Percy begins to gather his gloves and hat as if he means to depart. How could this man be so insistent that Daniel is to be taken to prison one minute, and then so keen to leave the next?

'You father is not here...?' I say.

Percy waves off my questioning and it is then I can see the desperation in his eyes.

Mr. Baker, Percy's father, was one of the group of men who ventured into Rectory Wood to help their friend, Mr. Hawkstone. Of those men, Mr. Hawkstone himself is now dead, the Major's wife had been wrenched from the grave, Papa lost his wife, Mr. Darborough has gone mad and talks of the Devil attacking him and now, Mr. Baker has fled. But for the purpose of business, or for another reason?

'When will he return?'

'That is not your concern,' Percy huffs imperiously, as the Constable moves past him to unlock the cell door, doing his best not to look at Daniel as he does so.

'How like a Baker to run when trouble brews,' I remark.

Percy erupts, grabbing my arm. 'How dare you! You impudent wretch! How could I have ever thought you would be a worthy match?'

I half-think that Daniel must move in a supernatural way, for it is difficult to separate the moment Percy squeezes my arm and is then slammed against the bars of the cell, with Daniel's hand at his throat. It all happens to fast, that my head spins to see it, but Daniel holds the venomous fiend in place, unhampered by any attempts of restraint of the Constable.

Percy whimpers in Daniel's grasp, clearly terrified and frozen as the lakes in the Mynd in the harsh world of true winter.

'Look at me now, sir, look at me, for I swear I will wrench the bloody breath from your throat if you don't!'

Slowly, Percy opens one eye and then the other, his breath wheezing as he comes eye to eye with the Sin-Eater – the one creature we are told explicitly not to look at, from the first day we heed our mothers' warnings to the day we take our last wheezing breath.

Daniel smiles, cruel and sweet.

'Aye, that's right. You look at me now, Mr. Baker and you listen to what I have to say. From now on hence, you will treat Miss Elmes as you treat me. Like a Sin-Eater. You will not lay a hand upon her. You will not speak to her, not utter even one word. If you see her in the street, you will turn about and go the other way, even if it means inconveniencing yourself. You will not look upon her. You will not even take one glance in her direction, for if you do, I will come to you in the dead hour of some terrible night and I will personally remove your eyes from your skull. Do you understand?'

With that, Percy begins to sob, much like a child does and I notice with repulsion, a dark stain of wetness spreading down the leg of his trousers. When he realises his shame, he begins to wail. Daniel steps back but does not release him.

'I asked, do you understand?'

Percy nods, still whimpering.

'Good then,' Daniel says, releasing him finally. 'Consider yourself cursed by the Sin-Eater, Mr. Baker.'

Free from Daniel's grasp, Percy retrieves his hat and gloves which have fallen to the floor, the hat looking mightily dishevelled having been crushed underfoot in the skirmish. Without another look at any of us present, he scuttles from the gaol as quick as he can, almost stumbling through the door in his haste to flee.

I turn back to face Daniel, who, I notice, has already turned his attention from the fleeing snake to me. My stomach turns a cartwheel. My skin prickles with heat.

'Goodness, that was quite remarkable,' I finally find the words.

Daniel looks at me, amusement dancing in his gaze. 'Are you quite alright, Miss Elmes? You are looking quite flushed if you don't mind me saying.'

I tug uselessly at my collar. 'Um... well, it is just rather stuffy in here, isn't it? They should really open some windows.'

'Strange, I have actually found it to be quite cold. Do you think you might have some of that heat to spare, Miss Elmes? I could do with the warmth.'

I fall into his arms then, pressing myself against him.

He lied, of course. He feels quite warm, deliciously so, and tastes even more delectable than he feels. How can one person feel so perfect? We are aflame, the Sin-Eater and I and in his arms, I would gladly burn forevermore.

'Miss!' The constable exclaims. 'I would kindly ask that you conduct yourself in a more appropriate manner.'

'I would kindly ask you to mind your business,' I retort, glancing at him. 'Unless of course you wish my father, the Admiral, to ensure you end up in in this very gaol for imprisoning an innocent man and for his cruel mistreatment.'

'I swear we never touched a hair on his head, Miss!' the Constable splutters.

Daniel shrugs. 'Aye, he's being true, they did not. It is difficult to torture a man you will not even dare to set eyes upon. Sometimes a Sin-Eater's reputation can be beneficial after all.'

'It is no matter,' I say. 'Who do you think the authorities would believe? An Admiral with many decorated years of service to the Crown or a lowly constable who struggles to tie his shoelaces?'

We all glance down to where the constable's laces remain untied and frayed.

'Now constable, you will go about your business -whatever that may be – and we will go about ours.'

Outside the gaol, where now only my trap remains tethered, Daniel looks up, taking in a deep breath, before locking his gaze with mine. It is a lot cooler outside, but the heat between us simmers still.

'Goodness, Miss Elmes, that was quite remarkable.'

I laugh as he pulls me to him once more. 'And what exactly did you find remarkable, Mr. Carver?'

'All of it. All of you,' he says, pressing his mouth to mine.

'Mr. Carver!' I say, with mock-astonishment as I break away. 'I thought you said you cared about my reputation and here you are kissing me in the street.'

'Do you care that I'm kissing you?' he says. Goodness, how his eyes blaze so beautifully when as dark and as heavy as this.

'On the contrary, I care very much for you to kiss me,' I say, resting my palms against his chest. 'But I am afraid we have more business to attend to that unfortunately does not involve any kissing whatsoever.'

Daniel's grin fades as I recount Papa's story. 'But, it's true then? Your friend really confessed?'

I nod, grateful for how warmly he holds me now, for the thought of Lizzie weakens my limbs and renders my heart cold. 'That she did, but there is more to this than this letter tells,' I say. 'Of that I am certain, which is why we must go to the asylum and speak with Lizzie herself.'

'And you're sure she will see you?'

I purse my lips. 'She must, for there is much more at stake here than her sanity and her life. If we do not get the truth from her about what has been happening at Lutwyche Hall, then I fear for us all.'