Since Nurse Britton knew the score, as it were, she offered to stay with me that night.

“You can be sick as long as you like, Miss Quinton,” she said. “I know why you need another body in your room, and while I don’t condone Mrs. Barlow’s trying to look the other way, she’ll hardly bother to fight me.”

I could not stomach the idea of Mrs. Barlow paying the nurse for another night. I was already dependent on this family for my room, board, and income, and now I was to depend on them for protection as well. Sick with anger, I decided that it would not do — I wanted as little as possible to be owed them.

“You need not,” I told her. “I am feeling much better, and can certainly look after myself.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not pretending that you are a shrinking violet, miss. But are you quite certain that you can protect yourself? This is not the easiest household to live in, and I’ve many more years of knowing that than you have.”

“I will be quite safe,” I told her. “Only I wish to be alone.”

Once she left, I wondered whether I was alone. Part of me was thrilled that I could soon give Miss Courtenay her comeuppance, but another part of me still doubted. Luke Barlow had not exactly been at my side all week, only coming in once to tell me that we were to be married. And apparently, nobody but the vicar and the Archbishop of Canterbury knew of our plan. Luke had been given ample time to tell his family, and apparently they knew nothing.

Then again, he had seemed very excited to see me earlier. And could he really be seriously considering marrying Miss Courtenay, now that he had an alternative?

That thought was enough to send me straight to sleep. It was comforting that, apart from her willingness to stay in the Barlow household and her beautiful singing voice, there was nothing in particular that could redeem Miss Courtenay. She hardly seemed a formidable rival.

I woke in a fog, forgetting that the nurse was no longer with me. “Nurse Britton?” I called, and heard only a rough laugh in response. “Here you are, girlie,” said the voice, as the man set his candle down on the floor and lumbered toward the bed. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Before I tried to defend myself, I managed to unclose my throat just long enough to scream. I meant to say “Help!” but all I could manage was a loud shriek.

At first, I thought that I would be able to get around the old man. Climbing out of my bed, I walked toward the window as he got on top of the bed.

But that was my fatal mistake. In my eagerness to get out of the room, I miscalculated the distance that I had to run. The bed was very close to the door, and the old man knew it.

I recalled, chilled by my fear, that the vicar had described his horrid history. How he was used to preying on young girls. And that knowledge must have been what allowed him to grab at my shift as I tried to get out of the door. With his tight grip, he was pulling me into the hall before I had a chance to think of my next move.

“Don’t pretend to be shocked, girlie,” he said, putting his fingers in my hair and another arm over my backside so that I could not get away from him. “No, you should not act so shocked.”

And with that he laughed, trying to kiss my neck as I stopped moving, paralyzed with horror. I knew that if he tried to bed me there in the hallway, I would suffer for that event for years.

“It’s a cruel world,” my mother used to tell me, warning of that very act. “If a man tries to take your virtue, Alice, use everything that you have and fight.”

But I could not use my fingers, or my teeth, or even my voice. It was as if old Mr. Barlow had removed every possibility of movement from me.

And just when I was squeezing my eyes shut, hoping that the whole thing would be able quickly, he crumpled down, enabling me to crawl out of his grasp after we both fell.

A small figure was hissing at him, hitting him with a poker.

“Quickly,” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a nearby room.

A moment passed before I realized that I was locked safely in Lillian’s bedroom. It was quite still, except for the sound of the old man limping and cursing as he walked away down the hall.

“You can sleep in this room tonight,” she said to me, her voice not quite steady.

“And your mother?” I asked.

Lillian only shook her head. “She ran off when I opened the door. She’s probably too ashamed to face you.”

She gestured to the bed where her mother usually slept. “The bed is free for you. I am only sorry we have such poor accommodations.”

I fell on the bed, suddenly too tired to act the proper governess. “Under the circumstances,” I said wryly, “Any accommodation would be welcome.”

“I am sorry,” she said, and began to cry.

I went over to her, feeling both sad for my little charge and as if I were the one who had a right to be crying.

“All will be well, Lillian,” I told her.

“Yes,” she sniffed, “But you asked mama to help you, and she didn’t. What are we to do tomorrow night, and the night after? I am afraid grandfather is uncontrollable, and mama will not let Miss Courtenay see the way we live in fear of his nighttime wanderings.”

I smiled wryly. My own problem would be solved by marriage, and perhaps my position as a new Mrs. Barlow would allow for a new arrangement with the old man. Why the family didn’t simply lock him into a closet each night was beyond me, if he did indeed pose such a danger.

“You needn’t worry,” I told her. “I will find a suitable solution in the morning. I will promise you that.”

Lillian shook her head, glancing carefully at the locked door. “But what if mama will not hear your solution?”

This made me smile, and I lit a couple of additional candles, knowing that the threat posed by the old Mr. Barlow more than justified the expense. “You needn’t trouble yourself. I can handle your mother.”