Amy smiled. It was Stefano, the boy from the kitchens who brought her food. Stefano’s visits were the only parts of the day she looked forward to.

He placed a tray on her dressing table, unloaded a plate of boiled meat and vegetables, and collected her dirty dishes from lunchtime.

As usual she had hardly touched her food, and as usual Stefano tutted.

‘You must eat, Amy,’ he said quietly. ‘You will get sick.’

‘I don’t care,’ she said.

Stefano glanced back at the door to make sure it was shut and spoke to her in a low voice.

‘I have brought you some chocolate,’ he said. ‘From Ugo’s own supply. Don’t let the guard see you eating it.’ He quickly handed her a small lump of something hard wrapped in waxed paper.

‘Thank you,’ said Amy, feeling pathetically grateful, and she squeezed Stefano’s hand. The boy brought her all sorts of pilfered treats but she was most grateful for the human contact and simply having someone to talk to.

Stefano had learnt to speak English working in the kitchens of an English family living in Cagliari.

‘You make me feel sad, Amy,’ he said. ‘I do not like it. You should not be here.’

‘Is there nothing you can do?’ said Amy.

‘No,’ he said. ‘If Ugo knew I was even talking to you he would have me whipped. If I helped you escape he would hang me. I am as much a prisoner here as you,’ he added. ‘Now I must go. I will see you in the morning.’

As Stefano went out with his tray Count Ugo came in.

He had not visited Amy since locking her in this room and Amy couldn’t say that she was pleased to see him.

‘I am sorry if I am disturbing your meal,’ he said as Amy hurriedly hid the chocolate. ‘But I will not be long.’ He sat down on Amy’s high-backed chair and stared at her for a while.

‘What do you want?’ she said.

‘I just want to make sure that you are well looked after and have everything you need,’ he said. ‘I am not a monster, you know. I am a civilised man.’

‘Tell that to Grace,’ said Amy.

‘You are a strong young woman,’ said Ugo. ‘I like that. The women of ancient Rome were strong. They had to be to breed strong children. The wives of the emperors were the strongest of them all.’

‘I understand a fair number of them poisoned their husbands,’ said Amy.

‘Weak men deserve to perish,’ said Ugo, standing and walking slowly towards her.

Amy was repulsed by him. By the whiteness. By the silver tooth that caused him to lisp. By the blue veins beneath his translucent skin.

‘I have been finding out about your family,’ he said as she backed away from him. ‘The Goodenoughs are good English stock. Aristocracy.’