That evening Napoleon returned to his country estate of Malmaison, not far from Paris.A fresh fall of snow had made the road difficult going for the horses; in places the snow had drifted and the men of the mounted escort had been forced to dismount and clear a path with the butts of their carbines before the carriage could proceed. It was past midnight before they finally pulled up outside the main entrance and a mufflered footman jumped down to place the steps beside the carriage and open the door for the Emperor. Napoleon cast aside the thick sheepskin covering that he had been using to try to keep warm and climbed stiffly down. The door to the house had been opened and a welcoming shaft of warm yellow light fell across the steps and out on to the snow-covered drive. He hurried inside and allowed a footman to take off his coat before he warmed himself at a small fire burning in a hearth to one side of the lobby.

‘Is the Empress still awake?’

‘I do not know, sire. Her majesty retired to her quarters over an hour ago.’

‘Ah.’ Napoleon frowned. He had sent word earlier in the day that he would arrive in time for the evening meal. That was before the snow had started again.

‘Do you wish me to have some food brought to you, sire?’

‘Yes. Some soup and wine. I’ll be in my study. Is the fire made up?’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘Good.’ Napoleon nodded and strode off down the corridor to the rear of the house, the stamp of his boots echoing off the tiled floor.The air in the study was warm and the glow from the fire was comforting as Napoleon eased himself into the chair at the desk that looked out over the gardens. At night the windows were shuttered and heavy curtains drawn across them to cut off any chilly draughts. He lit a lantern and by its light drew a piece of blank paper from the top drawer and then reached for a pen. He thought for a moment, and then dipped the nib in the inkwell and began to make notes in his usual swift, scarcely legible hand.

There was a soft tap on the door and a servant quietly entered and set down a tray on the corner of the desk. The Emperor did not look up from his work. At length he set the pen down, pulled the tray closer and began to drink his soup as he read over his thoughts on the situation in Spain. As he was finishing the soup he became aware of another presence in the study and glanced up to see Josephine standing just inside the door.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he asked.

She smiled thinly. ‘Not easy when you have been waiting anxiously all evening for your husband to arrive in a blizzard.’

‘Hardly a blizzard.’

She shrugged. ‘In any case, I was worried.’