"Oh it is, very dangerous. A virtual wilderness. My home -- my castle is high in the mountains. And a world away from the bee hive that is London. London seems another world all together."

While he talks, he gently turns her hand in his, his hand stroking open her palm, like he might stroke the soft fur of a cat. A shroud of calm falls around her, a deep, sweet peacefulness. No harm will come to her here. No harm at all.

"Where is your home, Miss Austen? England, I assume?"