Much to her surprise, Jacintha slept well that night, probably because she had her sister next to her and the chest of drawers against the door. Her exhausted mind had refused to dream and so she slept soundly, only to wake the following morning with a deep sense of foreboding.

The banging at the door alerted her to the fact that the maids were trying to get in with Harmonia’s breakfast tray. Rousing her sister, they stumbled, bleary eyed, towards the door and moved the chest of drawers back into its original position before unlocking the door.

Grateful it was their own maid who appeared at the door, Jacintha gave her swift instructions to have her breakfast tray brought to Harmonia's room, as well as a change of clothes. The maid was dispatched quickly and, ensuring that the door was locked and the key left in the door, Harmonia and Jacintha sat down, placing their chairs directly in the stream of sunshine coming from the window

“At least it cheers the spirit,” Jacintha murmured, softly. “I must speak to papa this morning, even if he is not ready to rise from his bed.”

“I think he will be ready,” Harmonia replied, encouragingly. “He was in good spirits yesterday.”

Jacintha nodded, remembering how her father had smiled up at her from his bed, the color back in his cheeks. “I just hope this news will not throw him back into weakness.”

“I doubt it,” Harmonia replied, with a quick smile. “I think it will put a fire into his bones, pushing him to leave this house at once.” She put a gentle hand on Jacintha’s arm. “You know he will believe every word you say.”

Thankfully, two hours later, Jacintha found that Harmonia had been right. Her father was in a blaze of fury on hearing what had occurred, enraged that Lord Slate had tried such things with his daughter. He exclaimed over how respectable Lord Slate had appeared, how trustworthy and honest, only for him to try and take advantage of Jacintha when she had been entrusted to his care.

“We shall pack immediately,” he declared, getting up from his chair and ringing the bell so furiously that Jacintha thought he might pull it from the rafters. “And where is the man? I wish to speak to him before we depart.”

“He – he has gone out on business, my lord,” the Duke’s manservant replied, emerging from the shadows in order to begin preparations to leave. “I do not know when he will return.”

“You will not call him out, papa,” Jacintha said, firmly, appreciating her father’s anger for her sake, but not wishing him to be hurt. “I am quite safe, as you can see. You do not need to involve swords or the like.”

Her father shook his head, his lip curling. “I would very much like to inflict some kind of injury on that man, but I will not,” he said, decisively. “I know all too well that he has more youth and strength on his side, but I will ensure that all of society knows of his behavior. I will not allow him to continue with his good name intact.”

Jacintha left him then, glad that all seemed to be at an end. They would leave Ferryway and return home where she might forget entirely about Lord Slate – and think only of Henry. How much she wished to see him! Especially when she could tell him just how much of a comfort he had been to her, even through the window of Lord Slate’s home.

Walking back to her bedchamber, Jacintha drew in a great breath, relieved that the entire experience was coming to an end. She had no need to worry any longer. Lord Slate would soon be nothing more than a distant memory.

“There you are!”

Jacintha let out a frightened squeak as Lord Slate slammed one hand over her mouth, his other hand grasping her arm tightly. His damp clothes pressed against hers, making her shiver.

“I knew you’d come back here eventually,” he hissed, pushing the door shut with his body and letting go of her mouth. “I told you that you’ve already seen too much. You’re going to be my wife whether you like it or not.”

“What do you think you are doing?” Jacintha gasped, struggling to get away from him. “I haven’t seen anything. Please, let me go.”

He chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing as he dragged her towards the other side of her bedchamber. For a moment, Jacintha thought he meant to ruin her, tugging away from him all the more, but, much to her astonishment, he pushed aside the large tapestry that had been draped on the wall and, after another moment of searching, pulled open a door.

“You spoke to your father, I presume,” he spat, wrestling her through the door and pushing her in front of him. “I heard that various arrangements had been made for your departure.”

Panic was swirling through her so strongly that Jacintha couldn’t think what to do or what to say. Her limbs became wooden, Lord Slate’s rough hands the only thing forcing her to keep moving.

“I told you I would not allow it,” Lord Slate continued, his voice echoing through the tunnel as they began to descend some stone steps. “I mean what I say, Jacintha.”

“My father will not stand for this,” Jacintha managed to say, her fingernails scraping on the stone walls as she struggled to make her way down without falling. There were a few lit candles on the walls but that gave her very little light to see by. She had no idea what Lord Slate had planned for her, nor what it was he was so frightened of her revealing to others. “You know that he will come after you.”

“He will be powerless, given that you will be my wife by that time,” Lord Slate replied, darkly. “Do not think you can escape from me this time, Jacintha. I will have you.”

Her breath was coming so fast she thought she might faint from the fear of what Lord Slate intended for her, the realization that no one - neither Harmonia, her father or Henry - knew where she was or what was happening to her. They had all assumed that Lord Slate had gone from the estate, but it was clear that he had used these secret passages to return without anyone being aware of his presence.

“Where are we going?” she whispered, seeing the floor become level once more with another wooden door just ahead of them.

“The trapdoor, my dear,” he replied, sounding surprised that she had not yet worked it out. “That door you found, the one you told your sister about, I am sure you saw the trapdoor there and wondered what it was for.”

“I did not question it,” Jacintha lied, even though she knew such a thing would not change his mind. “I have had no thought of it since.”

He snorted, reaching past her to open the door before hurrying her through it. “You are not a particularly good liar, Jacintha. Now hurry up and move along. The trapdoor is just ahead of you and you will find it already open for you. All your burning questions will be answered in one moment.”

Jacintha turned her head and saw the door to the library and, in a moment of panic, rushed for it – only to discover that it did not open for her. Lord Slate grasped her arm and tugged her away, jarring her arm.

“You little brat,” he snarled, dragging her so close to him that she was forced to look up into his face. “When will you learn that you can’t escape from me? I’ll do whatever I must in order to get you to submit. Now get down that ladder and don’t try such a thing again, or it will be all the worse for you.”

All the strength left her body, weakness rifling through her. She was trapped, tied to Lord Slate forever unless she could find a way to get away from him. The walls seemed to close in around her, the air becoming thick.

“Now don’t try that on me,” Lord Slate murmured, a warning tone settling over his voice. “Who knows what I might have to do to you in order to revive you?” His hand trailed down over her arm, down the curve of her waist and beyond. “Do I make myself clear?”

Shuddering at his touch, Jacintha nodded and began to move away from him towards the trapdoor. Screaming would do no good, the walls were too thick to alert anyone – and even his staff, should they hear her, would most likely ignore her cries for help.

She had no choice. Peering down at the trapdoor and seeing the rope ladder swinging from it, she began to gingerly climb down. Lord Slate grasped her arms roughly, ensuring that she would not slip, and Jacintha descended further into the gloom until another pair of hands caught her.

Shrieking aloud earned her nothing more than a hard slap, the shock of it stunning her into silence.

“Careful, there,” Lord Slate said angrily, as he came to join Jacintha and the other man. “She belongs to me and no-one else. Understand?”

“Understood, my lord,” came the gruff reply. “Now, are you sure you’re not wanting to wait here for a time? The boat is a little around the mainland so it is out of sight of the shore, but it’s still awful risky.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Lord Slate grated, tugging Jacintha along as he began to make his way down the cold stone floor of the tunnel. “Her father would have taken her away and I couldn’t let her go. She knows too much.”

“I don’t know anything,” Jacintha cried, her heart crying out in fear. “I don’t know a thing about this place or what you’re doing.”

The man who had caught her as she descended laughed harshly. “Of course you’d say anything to get away, wouldn’t you? Pretending you don’t know about the smuggling.”

Jacintha looked over at him, the lantern he held casting strange, murky shadows across his face. “What are you talking about?”

The man chuckled, his eyes dark. “Do you not know by now? Your Lord Slate here is a smuggler.”

“A – a smuggler?” Jacintha stammered, hardly able to believe it.

“One of the best,” the man replied, as the first shards of daylight began to pierce the tunnel’s darkness. “And soon you’ll be joining the operation, I’ve no doubt about it.”

“That she will,” Lord Slate replied, his voice echoing around the tunnel walls. “She won’t have a choice.”

Jacintha continued to stumble down the tunnel, hearing the sound of lapping water from below. The crash of the waves only added to her fright, her hand tightening on Lord Slate’s sleeve as he held her arm. She hated having to lean on him but, given the circumstances, she had very little choice.

“The boat’s below, my lord,” the other man said, as they came near to what appeared to be a large hole in the tunnel floor. “Stevenson’s waiting.”

“Very good,” Lord Slate grated, giving Jacintha a slight shove. “Now, climb down there and don’t dare make a sound.”

Seeing the other smuggler sit down on the edge of the hole before climbing down what appeared to be another rope ladder, Jacintha had no other choice but to follow suit, her dress growing damp and clammy around her legs. Her legs trembled as she tried to make her way down the ladder, only for hands to grab at her feet, making her shriek aloud.

“Quiet!” Lord Slate exclaimed from above her. “I said not a sound.”

Jacintha shuddered violently as she was helped to a small boat, not able to so much as look at the two men who had helped her into the boat. They were in a large cave with only a small opening between themselves and the open sea.

“Quickly, my lord,” one of the smugglers called, as Lord Slate descended. “The tide is against us.”

Jacintha watched as Lord Slate climbed into the boat, before wrapping up the rope ladder and tying it securely with a smaller piece of rope. It dangled there, almost invisible to the naked eye, and certainly not easily spotted unless you knew it was there.

“On we go,” Lord Slate instructed, as he took his seat. “And be on your guard. I am not certain that this next part will go as smoothly as we had hoped.”

As the boat left the cave, Jacintha blinked furiously as she looked up into the blue sky, wondering if this would be the last time she would see England’s shores. Turning her head to look over at the beach, she thought for a moment about jumping into the sea, trying her best to swim to the shore, only to realize that she would be dragged to the bottom in seconds. Her skirts would fill with water and, given that she was already feeling rather weak, she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to even attempt to get to shore. Feeling desperate, she looked over at the shore with grief growing in her heart, seeing a small figure on horseback racing across the shoreline. She could hear nothing but the sound of the waves and the cries of the gulls as they circled overhead. Any remaining hope that she might escape flickered and died, quenched by the anguish she felt. She would never see her sisters again, never see her father. Henry would be nothing more than a memory.

There was nothing but darkness waiting for her.