How fitting that the house I had to approach was guarded by monsters.

I walked up to the giant front door, which was carved from dark wood. Depositing the girl gently on the stoop, I lifted the brass latch and knocked three times. I was about to turn on my heel to return to the park when the massive door flew open, as if it were no heavier than a garden gate. A servant stood at attention. He was tall and rail-thin, and he wore a simple black suit. We looked at each other for a moment, then at the girl on the stoop.

‘Sir…’ the butler called to an unseen figure behind him, his voice surprisingly calm. ‘It’s Miss Sutherland…’

There were cries and shufflings. Almost immediately the entryway was crowded by far too many people, all of whom looked concerned.

‘I found her in the park,’ I started.

I got no further.

Petticoats and heavy silk rustled as what seemed like half a dozen screaming women, servants and men rushed out, fluttering around the girl like a flock of panicked geese. The smell of human blood was thick, making me light-headed. A richly dressed older woman – the mother, I assumed – immediately put a hand to her daughter’s neck to feel for a heartbeat.

‘Henry! Get Bridget inside!’ she ordered.

The butler gently scooped her up, unflinching when the blood began to soak into his cream waistcoat. A housekeeper followed, taking orders from the still-bellowing mother, who waved maids to their various tasks.

‘Winfield, send the boy to fetch a doctor! Have Gerta draw a hot bath. Get the cook to prepare a cosset and some herbed spirits! Remove her bodice immediately and unlace her corset – Sarah, go to the trunk of old linens and cut us some bandages. Lydia, send for Margaret.’