‘Here’s to the future.’ He tipped his glass and she was shocked by the bitterness in his face.

‘What will you do?’

‘Without the magic talisman of an Oxford degree, you mean?’

‘No, I didn’t mean that particularly.’

Oliver’s face set in disdainful lines. ‘Oh, it’s all been fixed up for me. It would be, of course. I’m to go into a bank.’

Helen coughed over her glass and Oliver smiled at her humourlessly. ‘D’you think I care what it is I’m supposed to be doing? It’s all very suitable. A small but highly influential City merchant bank, the kind of place that loves a lord amongst its minions. My father’s on the board, as it happens. They’ll find something harmless to occupy me. I shall invest in some natty chalk-striped gent’s suiting, and be swallowed up for ever.’

Helen sat up, horrified by the flatness of his voice. The idea of Oliver in a bank was ridiculous, shocking. Impulsively she put her arms around his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

‘Oliver, for God’s sake. Can’t you think of anything else that you want out of your life?’

The memory of the intoxicating glimpse of power and freedom that Tom had given her came back, and sympathy for Oliver shook her as she realised that some flaw within him denied him the same happiness.

His brilliant blue eyes looked dull and the whites were unhealthily bloodshot, but there was a spark of real humour in them as they held hers.

‘Nothing at all,’ he murmured. ‘Helen, my love. You’re such a fighter yourself. Lack of fibre in other people really disturbs you, doesn’t it? You can’t fathom why I don’t pick myself up and become Prime Minister. For you, I could almost summon up the enthusiasm. You know, I like you very much.’ He picked up her hand and lightly kissed the knuckles. ‘You’re worth ten of tiresome little Pansy, if only I’d been awake enough to see it. In every respect, including the obvious one. I wish you were mine. But Hart will make you happy. Good luck to you.’ He drank again, defiantly.

‘And Darcy?’ Helen asked softly.

‘Don’t worry about Darcy. It will be a blow, but he’ll survive because he’s interested in survival. His anxious desire for it makes him timid. Whereas I don’t give a toss. That’s always been the difference between us. Don’t you see that?’

Yes, she saw it clearly enough. Helen felt the cold fingers of fear touching her. In the dim light of the arched Hall, Oliver was gauntly beautiful, but grimness clung around him like a pall.