‘Why, but of course, madam,’ he responded whilst shooing away the hotel’s footman and handing me from the vehicle himself. ‘Do you require a physician, my lady? Would you like me to summon one? I can assure you, I know one of incomparable reputation, Monsieur de Sancerre, physician to the Duc d’Aiguillon.’ He hung upon my response with an eager grin.

‘A physician is not necessary, Mr Savill, though I am grateful for your concern,’ said I with a wave before fairly racing up the stair.

Once I had come through the entry and into my drawing room I wished I might have drawn a bolt across each glittering door. I wished I might have barricaded myself in there, behind a stack of ormolu chairs and boulle cabinets and sofas. I went to the window and pulled away the lengths of pink taffeta drapery so that I stood with my face but an inch from the glass.

I gazed down upon the rue Jacob, upon the crowns of hats, into buckets and baskets and carts, upon the moving flanks of horses. In the distance I could spy the spire of a church whose name was unknown to me. There was not a road adjacent to this one, or a house, or even a face beyond the courtyard of the Hôtel l’Impératrice that I would recognize. It was then I understood where I found myself: I had entered a labyrinth. I could not begin to fathom how I might navigate this confusion of streets, let alone where Allenham might dwell amongst them.

I confess, dear friends, I was most terribly frightened.

I began to pace about the room. I turned circles upon the parquetry. I squeezed my mind for some solution to this problem, but none came. After rendering myself dizzy, I retired to a chair where I laid my head against the back of the seat and shut my eyes.

When I opened them once more, I found myself staring at the spine of a book which Lucy had unpacked and laid upon a table. She understood well enough the significance of it. It was to me as precious as any memento, any set of paints or watch Allenham had given to me. Unlike these other objects, this one alone possessed the ability to soothe me in times of distress or weakness.