This way of loving Julietta meant, therefore, that when he encountered one of her female lovers – and the witty and striking Jane Adeane was surely now included in that number – he felt no hostility towards them, but rather some kind of aesthetic bond, as though they and he had discovered themselves to be awed by the work of the same artist or moved by the same piece of music.

He found Jane kneeling by the fire, weeping.

When she told him of Emmeline’s death, he got down beside her and put a tender arm round her shoulders. On his own account, he was saddened by the loss of a woman he had always liked and admired, but he knew by now what Emmeline Adeane had been to Jane and he was at some pains to find any words of comfort.

After a moment, he said: ‘Jane, I am going to pour you a glass of brandy. Brandy may be much more help to you than platitudes from my mouth. Then I will get Ellen to wake Julietta and she will come and comfort you.’

He rose and rang the bell to summon Ellen, then poured the brandy and Jane took it gratefully. He led her to a comfortable chair and arranged a cushion behind her head. He saw that she was pale and trembling and that grief had somehow reduced her, so that she appeared smaller than she really was, as if pressed down and inwards by some intolerable weight. Between sobs, she murmured apologies for the state she was in and for troubling the household, saying she did not know where else to go …

‘Hush, my dear Jane,’ said Ashton. ‘I’m very glad, and indeed touched that you came to us.’

‘I would have given anything to have saved her, Ashton. In Bath, I know that I’ve contributed to the saving of lives, but I could not save hers …’

‘Drink the brandy, dear girl. Take a gentlemanly swig! And then we will talk of Emmeline, if this is what you desire. Or we will remain quite silent, if it would help you more. But just know that you are safe with us.’

‘My poor father!’ said Jane suddenly, attempting to rise from her chair. ‘I had quite forgotten. He will be so sad. We must send word …’

‘Don’t fret. I will see to it. I expect he can be in London by tomorrow. And listen to me, Jane, all the legal paraphernalia of death, my lawyers, who also took care of your aunt’s affairs, can take this on, if that is what you wish. You have only to say what you want.’

‘Thank you, Ashton,’ said Jane. And she added on impulse, ‘You are a good man. I believe I know very few, but you are one of them.’

‘No,’ said Ashton, unable to prevent an edge of sadness from inflecting his voice, ‘I am not good; I am only a pragmatist.’

Ellen came into the room at this moment and behind her, Julietta, still in her silken night robes, with her hair wild and exhaustion in her eyes. She went first to Ashton and kissed his cheek, to welcome him home, then flung herself down beside Jane. The scent of her body, after the glut of her night, perfumed the room with a scent so potent, it made Ashton’s head swim.