I wasn’t sure I believed her. And the thought of her wandering about London, alone and with a concussion, was worrying.

“Why won’t you let Simon drive us to Vixen Hill?”

“I don’t believe it would make it easier for me to face Roger,” she said earnestly.

“Lydia. Is that your real name?”

She flushed. “I’m so sorry. Actually it is. And it was also my mother’s name.”

“If I agree to go home with you-tomorrow, let us say, or the day after-and deliver you safely to your family, will you promise to see a doctor? Just as a precaution.”

“You must stay the night,” she told me, trying to keep her hope from showing in her face. “There’s only the one train a day, coming north, and by the time we reach Vixen Hill, you’ll have missed it.”

“Yes, all right. One night. As long as you agree to see that doctor.”

“Bess, you won’t regret it. I promise you. And the sooner the better. I shan’t be able to sleep now, thinking about tomorrow. Are you quite sure?”

It was the only solution that I could see to the problem of what to do about Lydia. It set me free to go on to Somerset, and I could leave her in Sussex, secure in the knowledge that she had returned safely to her family. I was sure Simon wouldn’t approve, but tomorrow morning I could explain to him why I’d made this decision, and arrange to have him meet me in London on my return. After all, Lydia had told him who her husband was, and where she lived. It wasn’t as if I were going off with a complete stranger to an unknown destination.

And if I had any reason to believe that Lydia had made the wrong choice, if her husband refused to take her back, then she could come with me to Somerset until she could decide what she ought to do next.

Her happiness at having the decision to return to Vixen Hill taken out of her hands was obvious. For her sake, I hoped that her faith in Roger Ellis was justified.

I said, “There’s one thing I’d like to ask you, if you don’t mind. Who is Juliana?”