One consequence of all this exercise and air is that I am perpetually as hungry as a hunter, and the meals here, while not entirely Spartan – this is still France, after all – are plain in the extreme. But although the bread is coarse, it is served with honey almost ruby in colour and cherry-flavoured, and there is always an array of cheeses, along with speckled and musky grapes, to follow the soup that makes the main meal most evenings. On Fridays, as is consistent with the Roman tradition, we eat fish in the form of a thick and tasty broth called Bouillabaisse, and there is meat on Sundays and feast days.

The first day I turned my steps towards the centre of the island, I came across a sight I shall not easily forget – it was as if a sky purpled by thunder had fallen to the earth. Lavender fields spread before me, creating a swathe of blue stronger than either ocean or sky, and the scent – I swear it was the odour of Paradise itself. I know I wax lyrical, but believe me, it enlivened my nerves and blood. I have purchased a bottle of the distilled oil as a keepsake, and shall bring you some as well on my return. Which creeps closer – I cannot leave Mrs J abandoned in a French hostelry forever. But knowledge of the necessity of adventure is now engrained in me for good, and if subterfuge is required for the pursuit thereof, so be it.

I send all at Pemberley my compliments and good wishes for continuing health. And I pray once again that you are experiencing both comfort and diversion. I think we underestimate the benefits, not so much of repose – I am, after all, mostly an idle creature – but of escape. New experiences are a form of freedom, and I hope the peaks of Derbyshire offer you at least some opportunity to follow new paths.

Yours etc.,

Anne de Bourgh

Charlotte was able to give Jacob and Lizzy almost a full account of the contents of this letter, which were met with exclamations of interest and, on the musician’s part, reminiscences of his travels in that area. He was able to describe in more detail the contents of the fish soup Anne had eaten, and to confirm her rendering of the colour of lavender fields of Provence, and their brazen contrast with fields of golden sunflowers.

‘I declare, you make me wish to travel abroad myself,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I can see I shall have to work on my husband. We did not think of the Continent for our honeymoon journey, given the wars, and there were distant cousins in Scotland and Ireland to be visited. But you make me yearn for such hot skies and colours.’