At last they reached their destination. Stoker took the horse round to the back of the house, dismounted and pulled Eleanor down. Slinging her roughly over his shoulder, he descended the steps and opened the door to her cell. She smelled the familiar odour of dampness and dirt. Stoker threw her on the bed like a sack of potatoes.
“The master will be in to see you. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
She was still bound hand and foot. She didn’t like the idea of having to stay that way the whole night. Already she was experiencing discomfort. In an hour or two that would turn to pain. She began to think about what she had done. It was all for nothing, it seemed. Indeed, she was now in a worse situation than when she had left the cell only a day before. All the hours she had devoted to cultiva
