It was then that a great gust of astonishment swept me to my feet. There I stood, rendered quite mute by the shock. Remarkably, she seemed unmoved by my distress. She merely tipped her head coquettishly, as she might have with any of her admirers.

‘My dear, I spent your fortune in the very manner you would have wished. You expressed a desire to live by your own means, and so I enabled you to do so. Your household expenses have been paid from your own purse . . .’

‘But . . . my apartments . . . you told me that a subscription had been raised . . . Madame de Flaghac said your finances were much disordered, that Orléans did not pay your annuity and then . . . why, she confessed to me that you had sold your sapphire on account of my troubles . . .’ I gibbered, confounded by the pieces of a tale which no longer fit together.

‘Yes, what was said with regard to my annuity from Orléans was true, but as for the rest . . .’ She moved her head slowly from side to side. ‘I am afraid not. I told La Flaghac that I had sold my sapphire, for I guessed she would repeat the story.’ Mrs Elliot ran her hand along her lengthy neck and sighed.

I stood gazing at her in disbelief. Indeed, I did not think my brain capable of fathoming this.

‘Why ever would you contrive such a scheme?’ The words blew through my mouth.

The tall, heron-like creature shifted in her seat. She seemed almost to shrug as she did so.

‘Henrietta, I could not very well reveal what it was that I wished you to accomplish for me. It was necessary for you to believe that you were in my debt. Ladies of our description who still cling to the vestiges of honour, who believe in duty and in love above all things, lay themselves bare to the world. You live by a code which does not apply in the demi-monde.’ She raised her chin imperiously. ‘Had I not convinced you that you were in my debt, you would never have ventured into Orléans’s bed, nor befriended Madame de Buffon. Your sense of duty commanded you to make the sacrifices you did, and in doing so you have made yourself invaluable to me. You are a source of intelligence which cannot be replaced.’

I could not have felt more mortified if she had struck me across the face. The injury I felt, the shock at what had been delivered, was as severe. As I stood fuming and incredulous, I began to wonder what other falsehoods she had tied over my eyes.

‘And Allenham . . .?’ I whispered, almost too frightened to hear her response.

She lowered her head. Whether it was a gesture of remorse or something which appeared like it, I could not say.

‘Yes. I have known his whereabouts from the beginning.’