Jane’s cases were already waiting at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Jane, your carriage is here!’ ‘I’m coming.’ Miranda crossed her arms and then uncrossed them again. Her foot tapped with a life of its own against the floor tiles. ‘I think I’ve got everything,’ said Jane, clutching a handkerchief to the side of her face as she descended the stairs shakily. ‘Ah it still hurts; my whole face feels as if it’s been trampled on.’ She did look a little wan and her hair had been tied back rather shoddily, but her eyes glimmered brightly enough. ‘Well then perhaps you shouldn’t travel. Not yet anyway,’ said Miranda. ‘No no, I’ve overstayed my welcome with this illness as it is. You must be keen to get rid of me.’ ‘Don’t be silly. I’ll call the boy in to get your bags.’ ‘Yes do, but before I leave I’d rather like to have a word with you please.’ Jane swept her eyes from one end of the hallway to the other as if in search of spies and then craned her neck towards her.
