“Conflicting evidence,” Lizzie muttered, “is clearly nothing new.”

“It most certainly is not,” Avery said, from behind her. “Only think of the different theories about the Princes in the Tower.”

“Oh hello, Aunt Avery,” Lizzie said, smiling. “I didn’t see you there.” She gestured to the chair next to her. “Would you like a glass of that lovely lemonade you left for me? Have you slaughtered the Leylandii to your satisfaction?”

She went to fetch a glass whilst Avery laid her gardening gloves and secateurs on the table and eased herself into the cushioned seat.

“You’re studying that poor child Amy Robsart,” Avery said, when Lizzie came back. “Did she fall, was she pushed or did she jump?”

“Something of the sort,” Lizzie agreed. “It would be heartbreaking to think that she took her own life because she was so unhappy.” She felt another jolt of guilt remembering the Z-list celebrities who had crawled out of the woodwork to say the same when Amelia had died.

“Suicides were denied burial in consecrated ground in those days,” Avery said sombrely. “It was considered shameful and wrong in the eyes of the church. By all accounts Amy Robsart was well liked. I doubt anyone would have wanted her memory besmirched by the church’s condemnation. If she did take her own life, they would probably have covered it up.”

“That’s an interesting idea,” Lizzie said. “You would have thought that a verdict of suicide would suit Robert Dudley best, though. That way no one could accuse him of murdering Amy to get her out of the way so he could marry the Queen.”

“Yes,” Avery said, “but perhaps even Robert couldn’t face condemning Amy’s immortal soul, no matter how little he cared for her anymore. Certainly, he pushed for an inquest and declared he wanted there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind that Amy’s death had been a complete accident.” She sighed. “A lot of historians feel he tried to influence the inquest jury. You certainly don’t hear a word of regret or sorrow from him about Amy’s actual death, though. He knew he had lots of enemies and that they would accuse him of her murder and he was determined it wouldn’t be allowed to queer his pitch with the Queen. No, a complete accident was the only outcome for him because he would have been blamed for her suicide as surely as he was for her murder.”

“You know a lot about it,” Lizzie said. “I’m only just starting to find out the story.”

“Oh, I’ve read about it a lot over the years,” Avery said vaguely. “Poor child—Amy, I mean. Her story has a hold on the imagination. We always want to know the truth about a historical mystery even when it isn’t possible to be certain.”

“Amy’s death does feel like an accident,” Lizzie said, “because surely even the most dimwitted of murderers would realise that for Amy to die at all would be a disaster for Robert Dudley’s reputation, and from what little I’ve read about him I’d say that Robert Dudley was many things but not a fool.”