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The maid looked at her with a trace of hesitation. Meg might have expected the servants to treat her differently, now everyone knew she was from the village rather than a born lady, but apparently her being implicated in a violent plot was enough to command their continued respect.

‘Of course. Please tell him I’ll come at once.’

Clara bobbed and withdrew, leaving Meg to smooth down her skirts with unsteady hands. She’d known she would have to be questioned at some point, Sir Edward’s investigation centring around her, and the prospect stretched her nerves taut. She knew she was innocent but assuring the magistrate of it might not be easy, given the circumstantial evidence against her, and she felt fear rising as she made herself follow the maid from the room.

Her heart leaped all the way from the top of the house to the study, but it jumped for a different reason when she pushed open the study door and saw who was waiting inside.

‘Jacob?’

He looked up at her entrance. Seated in front of the imposing desk that had belonged to generations of Viscounts Fernley, he seemed somehow both at home and ill at ease, purple crescents underscoring the blue of his eyes. At once she wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him and find out whether his obvious exhaustion was rooted in worry or grief, but she managed to find some restraint.

‘I thought it was Sir Edward I was to meet. How is it you’re here instead?’

‘He’ll be along in a moment.’ Jacob gestured for her to sit in the chair pulled up beside him. ‘I wouldn’t leave you to face this alone.’

As if on cue, Sir Edward strode into the room. ‘Apologies for keeping you waiting, my lady. Are you ready to begin?’

The magistrate dropped heavily into a chair on the other side of the desk. He wore a pair of round spectacles perched on the end of his nose, and he frowned at Jacob over the top of them as he took a notebook from his waistcoat pocket.

‘There’s no need for you to be here, my lord. I’m afraid some of what I must discuss with Lady Fernley is likely to be unpleasant.’

Jacob’s jaw visibly tensed. ‘I would imagine you’re right, but I’ll stay all the same. I wish to be here in support of my wife.’

Meg felt a spark of gratitude. Revisiting the details of his brother’s last day couldn’t be something he wanted, and she appreciated him doing so on her behalf, although Sir Edward didn’t leave her any time to express her sentiments.

‘Very well.’

The magistrate fixed her with a sober gaze. ‘My lady, you know your husband’s sister-in-law has levelled the severest of accusations against you. In order to disprove them beyond all doubt, could you recount again what happened on the day Anthony Fernley died?’

Meg’s apprehension returned with a vengeance. Jacob was looking down at his hands but she knew he was listening, a stillness having come over him as he waited for her to start.

‘Certainly, if it will help. I’ll do anything necessary to clear my name.’

She sat up straight, trying to collect herself. ‘I’m not sure what I can tell you that I haven’t already. On the morning of the day in question I saw Anthony driving his gig through the woods, and—’

‘Pardon me, my lady.’ Sir Edward interrupted apologetically. ‘By all accounts this was just after dawn. May I ask, was it your usual habit to go walking so early?’

‘No.’

‘So why was that morning any different? Did it have something to do with the argument you’d had with Anthony the night before?’

Meg’s already low spirits plummeted further. Did the interview really have to go in that direction? It drew attention to the very points she would prefer to skirt around, reminding Jacob that she hadn’t confided in him about Anthony’s attempt to intimidate her and why she’d really been trying to sneak out from Wellbourne House at daybreak. She regretted now that she hadn’t immediately told him both things herself rather than leaving Isabella to reveal them, his sister-in-law able to imply suspicion where it didn’t belong.

‘There was no argument. We exchanged some words at dinner, it’s true, but other than that any antagonism came only from him.’

‘That antagonism being his threat towards your family?’

She was sure she caught a movement, Jacob’s head turning towards her, but she didn’t allow herself to look. ‘Yes.’

‘I see.’ The magistrate wrote a few words in his notebook. ‘Please go on with your description of what came next.’

‘It’s just as I said at the time. I heard a loud noise, followed by a shout, and when I went to investigate I found Anthony’s gig capsized and him lying on the ground. There was clearly an injury to his head. I tried to go for help, but he asked me stay with him instead, and as it seemed obvious that he was dying I agreed not to leave.’

There was a short silence. All three people sitting round the desk let her words hang there, Jacob and Sir Edward at the mercy of their imaginations, while Meg had to suffer a vivid memory of the awful scene. It never grew any less horrific, no matter how many times it accosted her, and it was more comforting than she knew how to express when Jacob wordlessly reached across and took her hand.

‘Tragic,’ the magistrate muttered at last. ‘Once again, please allow me to commiserate with you on your loss.’

He consulted his notebook, skimming over his scribbles before changing tack. ‘The family you have in Hayworth, my lady, that would be your father and brother?’