“But Lady M, a castle in the mountains of Transylvania, at this time of year too,” Miss Deer-Harte said, her voice quivering. “We shall be set upon by wolves, at the very least. And what about vampires?”

“What tosh you do talk, Deer-Harte,” Lady Middlesex said. “Vampires. Whatever next.”

“But Transylvania is an absolute hotbed of vampires. It’s common knowledge.”

“Only in children’s fairy stories. There is no such thing as vampires in real life, Deer-Harte, unless you mean the bats in South America. And as for wolves, I hardly think they can bite their way through a solid motorcar on a well-traveled road.”

Lady Middlesex drained her teacup and I stared out of the window at the twilight wintry scene. Rows of bare-branched poplar trees between bleak fields flashed past us. The lights were already shining from farmhouses. I felt a thrill of excitement that I was abroad again.

“What are you staring at, Deer-Harte?” Lady Middlesex asked in her booming voice.

“That couple across the aisle,” she said in a stage whisper. “I am sure that young woman is not his wife. Look at the brazen way he’s holding her hand across the table. Such goings-on the moment one is on the Continent. And that man in the corner with a beard. He is obviously an international assassin. I do hope our cabin doors can be locked from the inside or we’ll be murdered in our beds.”

“Do you have to see danger everywhere we go?” Lady Middlesex demanded irritably.

“There usually is danger everywhere we go.”

“Fiddlesticks. Never been in real danger in my life,” Lady Middlesex said.

“What about that time in East Africa?”

“Just a few Masai waving spears at us. Really, you do fuss about nothing. You’re just a bundle of nerves, woman. Snap out of it.”

I tried not to smile. It was such an improbable relationship—I wondered why on earth the overbearing and hearty Lady Middlesex had chosen such a simpering busybody as a companion, and why Miss Deer-Harte had accepted a position that took her from one uncomfortable place of danger to the next.

We approached Paris just as darkness fell. I peered out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower or some familiar monument but all one saw through the darkness were little side streets with shutters already closed and the occasional café-tabac on a corner. If only I had money, I thought, I’d go and live in Paris for a while and pictured myself as a risqué bohemian.