‘They do not believe in the triune God, but in the deity of the Old Testament,’ said Lizzy. ‘They are a clannish lot, I understand, and use the Hebrew tongue for their prayers, no matter where they hail from. Mr Darcy has visited some of their homes on his travels abroad, and he says they eat no pork.’

Charlotte was to receive proof of this with her own eyes when Herr Rosenstein joined them by invitation at breakfast shortly thereafter. He greeted the ladies with courtesy and kind enquiries as to their health, received coffee gratefully, and eschewed bacon and sausage, confining himself to smoked herring and boiled eggs. He also refrained from any mention of his morning performance in the heart of the maze, or Charlotte’s finding him there. She, meanwhile, was too taken with contemplation of the new mystery of his religion to find this omission in any way strange. She had a dozen questions to ask about what it meant to be a Jew by blood and faith, but did not know how to broach the topic.

Lizzy, however, had no such qualms: ‘Herr Rosenstein, Mrs Collins did not understand that you are a Jew,’ she announced. ‘We impose still more upon your good nature with our impertinence; we may now ask questions of both a musical and theological nature.’

The musician fixed his eyes on Charlotte, and she coloured. ‘I have little understanding of the topic. A confession indeed for the wife of a Christian clergyman! I know our doctrines, of course; but when it comes to the other religions of our fellow men, especially those from foreign lands, I am at a loss. Does this mean you are heathen, Herr Rosenstein?’

As her words emerged, she blushed still deeper at their clumsiness, but he laughed so heartily that she too began to smile, relieved that she had not given offence. ‘It depends on what you mean by heathen, Frau Collins. The Jews share a holy book with their Christian fellows, and in our own homes and temples, we utter prayers and carry out rituals you might indeed find familiar. We are not godless barbarians, far from it. In truth, I doubt whether any tribe, no matter how remote from civilisation, is heathen in the true sense of the word. The most primitive community will have some one-eyed idol, some altar, that represents to them a moral code shared with, and enforced by, their fellows. While you might indeed fear for our souls, we Jews are nonetheless a pious people.’

Elizabeth declared that she needed more coffee if she was to listen to further disquisitions of a spiritual nature, and talk turned to fresh topics, but not before Herr Rosenstein had smiled at Charlotte and said, ‘Did you really not know I was a Jew? I should have told you my name: Jacob.’

CHAPTER XII