Mary woke to find herself in a strange bed, with monogrammed sheets and a broad, crimson canopy. She lay still and tried to realize all that had happened. It was impossible. Her recollections of the night before were so confused. . .and her present surroundings in such flat contradiction to the naked exposure she felt. . .that the aura of unreality remained.
She let out a bewildered breath, and pressing her fingers to her temples, tried to reshape in some logical pattern the events of her journey, and later installment in this room. Images came to her in sharp detail, but would not arrange themselves to any firm order or conclusion.
She saw again the pale interior of the carriage. Then through the window, the grim Castle looming upon the promontory: above the mists, beneath the moon. She saw the drawbridge raised again behind them, and the spiked portcullis lowered in the arch beyond. And then the great, hulking form of a man, seated as if in Judgment upon a raised throne of oak at the head of a long reception hall, hung with bright banners and fading tapestry. She walked towards him, came closer, then stopped.
At this point, had she known it, she did in fact lose consciousness, collapsing to the apparent (and unexpected) distress of her father. He had been the first to come to her aid, and loudly summon a physician. Afterward she had been taken to the rooms she now shared with her aunt, who was stationed in the adjoining chamber.
A door opened in the wall to her right, calling her back to the present. The widow Scott entered quickly, seeming no more assured or at peace than herself. With a troubled look she approached the bed, and took her niece by the hand.
“I fear we have made a serious mistake,” she said.
The words were so obvious, and such a gross understatement of their position, that the one reaction the girl felt capable of was annoyance. The widow read this in her face, shook her head.
“That’s not what I mean. Whether we did right or wrong in coming here, and whether it will help Michael---” She looked about her, as if fearing the very walls, then went on in a lowered voice.
“Whether or not we can do anything to call off the search. . .I have found a dangerous weakness in our story, and the one physical detail I overlooked. I cannot hope Lord Purceville did not notice.” She lifted Mary’s hand before her, and slowly she understood.
The ring.