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“I understand that now. There were rather a lot of keys.”

“I started collecting them as soon as I realized we were being locked in the attic at night. I knew something was definitely off. I didn’t know where we might need to get into, or out of. And there are too many locked doors in this house. It’s not natural.”

“Why exactly did you leave me keys to the sex grotto?”

“There’s a sex grotto?” Sybil asked. “I had no idea. I was just trying to unlock doors.”

Clara looked around. Rosalinde was slightly wild eyed, her dark hair wound into a crown braid. Blanche was tall, with blonde curls and an upturned nose. “Is anyone hurt? Miss Yarwood, your fever?”

“I never had a fever.”

“No, I thought not.”

“I managed to get away early one morning, but they caught me in the village. They told everyone I was plagued by a fever and rambling nonsense.”

“Physically, we are fine,” Sybil assured Clara. “Meals delivered on a regular basis, even tea to drink.”

“Plain scones and no butter,” Clara said. “I knew that tray came to us accidentally.”

“You found me because the scones were not up to your standards?”

“Yes.”

“Clara, I don’t say this very often, but you are my favorite Spinster. Don’t tell Peony.”

Clara smiled faintly, then lowered her voice. “Is everyone truly well?”

“Well enough, all things considered. Rosalinde has been here the longest, nearly eight months? Nine, maybe? She will need care, I think, but I have every confidence in her ability to recover.”

“I’ll be fine once I can get warm again,” Rosalinde muttered, sitting on the edge of one of the mattresses. She was thin and pale, lips faintly blue, smudges under her eyes.

“And she has very good hearing,” Sybil pointed out.

“Our prison is not exactly spacious,” Rosalinde said.

“True enough.”

“Will you tell us what’s happening out there?” Blanche asked. “I thought I heard music.”

“It’s Devil’s Night,” Clara told her. “The Hall is full of gambling and wine, and the caves are full of…other things.”

“So no one will hear us,” Blanche said. “I’ve been screaming through that little window for hours.”

“It has not been at all vexing to the nerves,” Sybil said.

“You have no nerves,” Clara reminded her.

“Oh, right.”

Clara inspected her chains, the reddened, raw skin around Sybil’s ankle. “Oh, Sybil.”

“It could be much worse,” Sybil said. There were shadows under her eyes as well, despite her bravado. “I am just cross I let myself get taken. I was meant to protect Heloise.”

“You tried,” Heloise said. “Harder than some of my own family.”

“We’re not beaten,” Clara said. “Not yet.”

“Easy for you to say—you’re still warm and clean. What about Martin?” Heloise asked. “Is he… How is he?”