The entrance to the carriage looked as it did before, Stoves keeping it in place as I’d instructed him. But now I looked at it; the rectangle of darkness looked slightly alarming and unearthly. I had pulled the blind down on the far window, so it now looked like the entrance to some cavernous wardrobe, where one has only to push through the jumble of old coats to enter some alien world. I only hoped that Matthew would not feel as unsettled by it as I now did.
He paused at the far end of the kitchen, his expression unreadable, as he took in the scene then stepped slowly forward towards it. I walked a pace to the side, hearing his breathing gather pace. Reaching the door, he stopped, biting his lip in mounting anxiety. For a moment, I thought he was about to turn and flee; then he seemed to
