Space in which to write is priceless to authors. In this respect, I’m indebted not just to Paige and Sarah for providing that spell (pun intended) in Ireland, but to Eric Larsson, Jean Talbot, Katharine Larsson Laria and their families, who gave me free run of their beautiful ancestral home, Gay House, in a tiny village on Penobscot Bay in Maine, for six weeks. The productive peace of that time was invaluable, as was the warmth of that community. I went from the gloves and scarves of a New England fall to the bone-soaking heat of summer in the Little Karoo back home, where Billy Kennedy of Temenos Retreat Centre kindly offered me a refuge in which to finish an early draft.

Travelling in a hard-currency country is daunting for South Africans. Without the hospitality of Mara Singer in Oxford, Sue Mottram in Dorset, Sarah (again) in Shropshire, and Louisa Treger in London, it would have been nearly impossible to do location research. Louisa, whose journey as a historical novelist has preceded mine, has also provided essential practical advice, as has Bonnier stablemate Amy Heydenrych.

I’m grateful to the staff and volunteers at Chatsworth and numerous National Trust properties for answering my questions with such chatty expertise – especially the gentleman at Eyam Hall who was responsible for Charlotte’s bacon safe.

Anne de Bourgh’s travels around the French Riviera are largely thanks to Clifford Hall, who guided me round a variety of locations, including the Île de Saint-Honorat, on which I have roughly based the Île Sainte-Madeleine of my story (although with several outrageous liberties, such as replacing monks with nuns).

Paul Tizzard allowed me to spend several hours watching him tune and repair my century-old piano, and answered my many questions about Jacob’s profession.

Regarding the above, any errors concerning geography, history, location, musical matters, and the intricacies of piano care are mine.

I finished this novel while recovering from major, life-saving surgery. Thanks to all who cared for me during that time, and also Dr Carol Thomas for giving me my life back. I can’t believe you yourself are now gone.

South Africa was in the grip of a postal strike when contracts needed to move across oceans, and Nicky Smuts-Allsop came to the rescue, acting as my personal Pony Express. She also took me on various Austen walks and drives in the UK, and tolerantly posed in historical dress at the Bath Costume Museum – the most glamorous research assistant ever.