What follows is a difficult, frank discussion between Matthew and Mary regarding the contents of Haxby.

Omitting the information about the portrait and the bedroom furnishings, Matthew told Mary of the plans to empty Haxby of its contents and to transfer its ownership to Richard's estranged sister who lived in Liverpool. (It was Robert's understanding that she planned to sell it as soon as possible, which was good news as far as he was concerned.) As he finished relating what he could about Haxby and some of what the men had discovered, he noticed she was staring down at her hands.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and asked quietly, "What aren't you telling me?" She knew him so well. "I'm strong, you know. Please tell me."

"Oh, my darling, you are the strongest woman I know. A storm braver. Truly. It's just that you've been through so much. I hate telling you something that may be hard for you to hear."

"But, Matthew, don't you see? I need to know everything, or I'll always wonder and be haunted. We have to recover from this together…the only way we will is if you tell me…things. It's the not knowing that's the hardest to bear."

He knew he would have to choose his words carefully when he told her about what he saw in that appalling bedroom; however, he resolved to take his knowledge of that abhorrent painting to his grave.

Matthew held her hand, took a deep breath, and began. "You know, don't you, that I never would hurt you in any way nor do anything to cause you physical pain?"

"Of course, Matthew. I trust you in all things."

"Thank you, my love." He kissed her gently. "Well, there are some people—evidently Carlisle was one of them—who find inflicting pain on others gives them great…um…satisfaction." Matthew knew that Mary had led a very sheltered life, despite her limited experience with Pamuk, so he had to choose his words carefully.

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Satisfaction? You mean they enjoy hurting other people?"

"Yes. And in doing so, they achieve…uh…experience…uh…sexual…pleasure. For some people, it's the only way they can…."

Mary was still for a moment, and then replied softly, "He said and did such ghastly things…and he did seem to enjoy hurting me."

"Oh, Mary, I'm so, so sorry. I don't know how to explain how guilty I feel that you had to experience those things. I should have been able to keep it from happening."

"Honestly, I don't think there's anything you could have done to prevent it, but you kept the worst from happening. He was insane, Matthew. Think about the tapestries in the great hall. You know how lewd they were." She looked at him closely. "Were there other things in the house as well?"

"Yes, there were. The thing is…Richard had filled the bedroom with all sorts of furnishings…and devices…that might be used for…damn, I can't call it lovemaking." Matthew looked down and shook his head, unable to continue.

"You mean he planned to hurt me in some way so he could….Oh, my God."

He looked at her, his earnest blue eyes shimmering. "Mary, I wish with all my heart you never had to know what he had planned, but there's a good chance you'll hear about some of this in the village since several people are aware of what was found in the house. As hard as it is to talk about, I'd rather you hear it from me."

"Go on then, please."

"Well, the bedroom had devices designed to hold someone…captive…and…instruments that would cause great pain."

"What were they? Please, Matthew, tell me. I'll be all right, I promise." She began to tremble and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Matthew took her face in his hands.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

She nodded. "Yes…yes…. If you don't tell me, I'll always wonder. I'd much rather you tell me than someone else. But, please, would you hold me while we talk?"

"Of course, but please…please, stop me if you're too uncomfortable hearing this." He leaned against the headboard and gathered her into his arms. Talking about this was going to be difficult for both of them.

"I will. I promise."

"Very well. Evidently, Richard had obtained furniture and other items that would allow him to…restrain you."

"Like what?"

"Well…there was a settee with cords attached to it. It had a kind of depression in the center of the back. He might have leaned you over it, tied you down, and…and…assaulted you." He held her tightly. "There also were ropes on the bedposts and manacles attached to a wall, all probably intended for the same thing."

She looked up at him despondently. "God, Matthew, no matter what I said to him, he wouldn't stop pawing me and groping me. I suppose that's what he intended when he forced me to the stairs."

He was sickened when he thought of Richard's putting his hands on Mary. "I'm so thankful you never saw that room, Mary. It's difficult enough just telling you about it."

"I must ask you, though; do some people enjoy being treated…restrained…in such ways? Is tying someone up during sex always considered depraved?"

"Not necessarily…usually that kind of activity is for…um…mutual satisfaction. I don't think that was Richard's intent, though. He evidently knew you would not be a…a…willing participant. The way you fought him proves that."

She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't have been, and I did fight." She hesitated for a moment and closed her eyes. "You know, as soon as he grabbed me, I knew he intended to rape me. That's why he was taking me upstairs. " She paused and shuddered. "What else?"

He faltered before answering. "There were drawers filled with things such as whips, collars, blindfolds, and…er…vibrating devices, and the closets contained peculiar, revealing costumes. I can only assume he planned to use these things, as well."

Mary shuddered again. Matthew barely could hear her response. "He must have hated me so very much."

"I don't think 'hate' is the correct word, darling. I think he was absolutely enraged that you rejected him, and he snapped. His diseased mind wanted you punished, but he also wanted to possess you sexually. Think about how he treated you when you were engaged to him. He was so obsessed with you he wanted you all to himself and believed if he could control you, you'd never want anyone else. He confused obsession with love. He was sick, Mary, sick and depraved. There's a good chance he never had experienced normal sexual intimacy with anyone. People who love don't subject their loved ones to such depravity."

She paused a moment before speaking. "I know you're right, but when I think of what might have happened…." She leaned into his chest as he smoothed her hair. "I'm so thankful for you, Matthew—so thankful you found me at Haxby and so thankful you are willing to talk with me about this."

"Oh, Mary, I hope we'll always be able to talk about anything and everything. I'm sure there will be issues that we aren't comfortable with, but that doesn't mean they'll be off-limits."

"I agree. I just never realized such things existed. There's so much I don't know, I suppose." She cleared her throat. "Matthew?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are the things he planned for me in that bedroom always considered to be immoral?"

They both blushed at her question.

"Um…not necessarily, but the difference is that sort of activity should be based on trust and love, not simply on a desire to inflict pain or express rage in order to perform sexually. Do you understand?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "I do. I know we love and trust each other, so we'll never have to worry that what one of us wants during lovemaking will hurt the other."

"That's exactly right, my darling. My goal always will be to give you pleasure, and I hope you feel the same way. Honestly, I don't think there's anything wrong with…um…adventurous sex as long as both people consent. I don't know or understand how Richard came to view hurting you as a way to achieve sexual gratification, but thank God he didn't succeed."

"Yes, thank God," Mary whispered, as she settled into his arms.