‘No more than your gold was able to supply, my lord,’ my brother said dryly. ‘Gold speaks louder than words when times are hard and they are hard at present.’

Jasper nodded and his next words were music to my ears. ‘You must want to refresh yourself, Jane.’ He beckoned to the girl who had entered the room with him. She was about my age and dressed very similarly, her hair covered by a plain linen coif. ‘This is Lady Margaret’s maid, Alice. She will show you the way.’

‘How is Lady Margaret, my lord?’ I asked.

A haunted look swept his face and he shook his head, sighing. ‘Not good. She needs you, but you will see for yourself. Go with Alice now and I will speak with Maredudd. When you return I will take you in to meet her.’

In a connecting tower Alice stood sentinel while I made use of one seat of an intriguing double latrine. A wicked image of past earls and countesses seated sociably together inspired an inappropriate giggle, which I hastily smothered. But to confirm its use by the rich and privileged, next door in the garderobe I found a water-jug, bowl and soap with a brush and hand mirror nearby – luxuries of which I took full advantage, removing my coif, washing my face and hands and brushing my hair before replacing it. When I followed the maid back to the anteroom I felt considerably more presentable.

Maredudd was gone when I got there. ‘He will be back for supper in the hall in an hour.’ Jasper told me. ‘There are refreshments in the solar if you are hungry and thirsty in the meantime. Come now and meet Lady Margaret.’

She sat beside a blazing fire wearing a black veil and enveloped in dark furs, her head bowed over her clasped hands as if in prayer. She looked tiny, almost shrunken, lost in the high-backed armchair, and when she raised her eyes I noticed they were swollen and bloodshot and her cheekbones were blade-sharp. Jasper introduced me, whereupon Lady Margaret struggled to her feet and her fur mantle fell back to reveal a swollen belly that seemed grotesque on her childish frame. I judged that she was at least seven months pregnant.

I was quick to disguise the horror I felt with a smile as I slowly approached, took her right hand gently in mine and placed my left on her elbow. The action was instinctive because she looked as if she was about to fall over. I tried to keep my voice level. ‘I hope I can be of service to you, Lady Margaret. First of all, I think you should sit down again.’

‘Yes, I do feel a little dizzy,’ she confessed, allowing me to lower her back into the chair. ‘I am enceinte you know.’ I found her use of the French word quaint and rather touching.