Listening to him speak the names of unfamiliar rivers, mountains and villages, Charlotte almost shivered with pleasure. ‘Herr Rosenstein, I swear listening to you speak is like taking a trip on a magic carpet, such as are found in the fairy tales my daughters enjoy. As you speak, these vistas unfold before my very eyes. Pray go on,’ she said.

Lizzy laughed at her friend. ‘It is not like you to be so fanciful, my dear Charlotte! You sound like your children begging for stories at bedtime.’ She turned to the musician: ‘This is all very poetic, sir, but your travels cannot only have been a matter of picturesque ruins and cathedrals. Your life cannot have been one long Grand Tour.’

‘Indeed, Frau Darcy. I have experienced all the perils of bad alehouses and worse victuals, and as a musician, I have seen my share of revelry and dancing girls. The revues of the Quartier Pigalle in Paris require that their instruments be properly strung and tuned as much as does the orchestra of the Académie Royale de Musique.’ He added more seriously, ‘And there have indeed been journeys through forests or mountains when the howling of wolves has chilled my blood – when I have wondered if I would ever safely reach my destination.’

‘Well, I hope the woods of Pemberley are not too dull for you,’ said Lizzy. ‘We have no wolves here. Or bandits.’

Jacob smiled across at Charlotte. ‘And I have discovered no bears, or trolls, or hobgoblins in these grounds. Only a pair of mischievous elves. I am deprived of my regular dose of terror.’

‘Well, perhaps you can entertain us all with additional tales of monsters and savage creatures,’ teased Charlotte. ‘My daughters would enjoy it: I fear they are at that age where the bloodthirstier the story, the better.’

‘That sounds like a delightful project, Frau Collins,’ said the musician. ‘I am accustomed to spending my breath and effort performing on the sterner mistresses of strings and keys, wood and ivory. This is a holiday for me, to entertain you with my memories and words only.’

The following day was one of those almost unpleasantly soft grey ones peculiar to English summers, in which green foliage and grass shone with an almost unearthly light. Laura was engrossed by a new project in the garden: the construction of a fort made from rocks found in the underground caves that ran below one of the garden grottos. Here she commanded a valiant battalion, and her military duties demanded for the time being the sacrifice of such gentler interests as music, and even the excitements of aquatic activity.