From that moment on, I knew that I wanted to marry Luke Barlow. He captured my head and my heart all at once, and as soon as we could tear away from each other we started on down to the vicarage after he’d gone into the house to fetch my coat and make some wild excuse to his mother.

On our way to the village, I lost track of the number of times I paused just to look at him, catch my breath, and assure myself that I had not entered some sort of dream state. Luke Barlow was real, I was real, and we really did plan to marry. The feeling of my arm being pressed to his side was nearly enough to send me into a fainting spell.

It was only when we first stood in front of the vicar that our plan began to sound rather mad.

“I know that you are friends with the Archbishop of Canterbury, Mr. Simmons,” said Luke, glancing at me and then back at the vicar. “You may have tried to keep it quiet, but the whole village knows.”

The vicar was a funny looking man, tall and reedy, and with the habit of waving his hands about when he spoke. He sat at his desk with an expression of impatience on his face. “Yes, yes,” he said. “It is the only way I have been able to hold on to this living in spite of all the complaints about my opinions.”

This worried me for what it seemed to imply about my own future family. “You are not saying that Mrs. Barlow would have got rid of you, are you?” I asked. I thought about adding even more opinions about the woman who had treated to sack me over my attempts to evade her crazed father-in-law, but when I saw Luke wincing I decided I needed to say no more.

The vicar sighed. “It was old Mr. Barlow who wanted to get rid of me. He suspected that I had a hand in changing the running of his household, though he was never able to prove anything.”

I looked over at Luke, who seemed confused. “The running of the household? How so?”

“I convinced your mother to take some precautions,” the vicar admitted. “When I heard that every young woman in Woodshire had been troubled, I knew that my role as a man of God had to be to stop that madness.”

Luke was frowning deeply, but I thought I understood the vicar. “It was Mr. Barlow?” I asked. “Do you blame him for being infirm?”

“Well, sickness of the mind can make monsters of us all,” he said. “I can’t say that I blame the man for how he is in his current condition, but I do blame him for how he was before.”

“Was he that way before?” I asked, and I noticed Luke looking down.

“Eventually,” said the vicar, “I was able to speak to Mrs. Barlow about it. Though she refused to control the man, she did allow the servants to do more to defend themselves. She hired many young men and few women. Those young women who stayed were to be together all the time, in groups of at least two, so that the old man should not try anything.”

Luke gasped. “They did used to go about in pairs,” he said. “While one lit the fire, the other would be drawing the curtains and dusting up a bit. Or if mama needed something brought up, one girl would have the tray and the other would be bringing back a bit of mending that the other said she couldn’t carry.”

“A charade,” said the vicar, drumming his long, thin fingers on his desk. “It was all calculated, and your mother went along with that. I also convinced her to find a way to bar off the servants’ quarters. A compromise, as it were.”

“Then I have been right to fear another attack!” I hissed, and the vicar started.

“Miss Quinton, he has troubled you?”

My face was flushed with shame, though I knew that Luke, as the Barlow in the room, was the one who ought to be ashamed. “Yes. He has tried.”

He turned toward Luke. “And, Mr. Barlow, what have you done to protect this young lady?”

“I can protect myself,” I insisted, though it was not entirely true, just as Luke shook his head and said, “I tried talking to granddad.”

The vicar gave me a sad smile. “Of course you can protect yourself, Miss Quinton, but you ought to allow the possibility of help, given the man’s history. And Mr. Barlow, if you and Miss Quinton intend to marry, you ought to do a better job of looking out for her. Something tells me that she is not a woman to sit idly by when you are under threat, and so you must find a way to stand up to your mother and protect her.”

Luke started. “Yes. I don’t know what I shall do, but of course I must do something. Quite right.”

“Well then,” said the vicar. “You are right that I know the Archbishop of Canterbury. In fact, I cannot tell you the details, but he owes me rather a lot of goodwill in return for what I’ve done for him. He happens to be coming to Dover tomorrow, so I may ask him myself. Unless I am much mistaken, I will be able to acquire the license quickly.”

“So we might marry soon!” I burst out.

Mr. Simmons shook his head. “If I myself am inclined to perform the marriage, Miss Quinton. Are you quite sure you understand the very great weight that you are taking on, both in marrying early and in marrying against the wishes of the gentleman’s mother?”

“Well, no,” I admitted. “But then, nobody knows exactly what they are doing when they marry, do they?”

He smiled. “A logical fallacy, perhaps, but true enough. I would see far fewer young people here if all of them could see the future.”

“Then you will do it?” asked Luke, looking rather pale.

“I will not marry you and Miss Courtenay, so I am glad that you have abandoned that plan. As to whether I will marry you and Miss Quinton, well, you must both convince me that it would be right to do so. In the meantime, I will ask about the license.”