of her.
They came to a halt in front of the lodge. Darcy dismounted and lifted Elizabeth out of the saddle, and she slid gratefully to the ground. Neither of them spoke of the revelation; it was as yet too terrible to be discussed. Beside her, the horse trembled. It had carried them for many miles and it was covered in sweat.
‘I will have to take care of the horse,’ said Darcy, ‘I have no grooms here who are capable of seeing to his needs.’
Elizabeth nodded in understanding.
‘Go in,’ he said, then added, with a smile, ‘There is someone inside you will be pleased to see.’
Elizabeth climbed the steps and went through the heavy front door. As she entered the hall, a woman was running down the stairs and to her delight she saw that it was her maid.
‘Annie!’ she exclaimed.
‘Oh, Ma’am, you’re safe!’ said Annie.
‘And you!’ said Elizabeth. ‘I have been so worried about you. When I found the letters I feared the worst.’
‘And I you… but you look fit to drop. Here is the sitting room,’ she said, going over to the door and opening it, ‘I will bring you some tea. I never thought to find any in Italy, but the master has it specially brought here. It was his valet who told me.’
Elizabeth went into the small but cheerful sitting room. There was little furniture, only a threadbare sofa and a few battered but comfortable-looking chairs. She did not sit down, having spent a great deal of time in the saddle, but stood by the window, letting her eyes wander as her mind tried to make sense of all it had learnt.
Annie returned with the tea.
‘It doesn’t taste as good as at home, but it’s hot and will put new strength into you,’ she said.
Elizabeth took it gratefully. After two cups she felt sufficiently refreshed to ask, ‘What happened to you, Annie?’
Annie needed no second bidding.
‘It was when you gave me the letter to post, just after you had fainted, that’s when it all began,’ Annie said. ‘I took it downstairs and gave it to one of our footmen and he said that he would see it was posted, but I happened to turn back a minute later, meaning to ask him when it would go to the post, and I saw him tucking it into his coat. I was about to say, “What do you think you are doing?” when I stopped short. He was looking round him all furtive like and I thought to myself, there’s something going on. I shrank back so he wouldn’t see me, then I followed him to see what he’d do with it so as I could get it back. He went to his room with it and a minute later he came out again. Well, it wasn’t difficult to see he must have hidden it there, so I waited until he’d gone and then I went into his room and looked through his cupboards until I found it. I’ll never forget seeing it lying there, because it wasn’t on its own; it was on top of a pile of your other letters, all tied up in a neat bundle.’
‘Was it the footman we hired in Paris, when our own footman was taken ill?’ said Elizabeth.
‘That was him. One of our own men would never have done such a thing. Well, I put the letters in my apron pocket and came to find you to tell you all about it, but then I saw you were with the Prince I hesitated. I didn’t trust the Prince, Ma’am. There were rumours about him in the servants’ hall. They said he’d inherited the villa from a cousin of his, but the cousin had died suddenly. One minute he was hale and hearty and the next he was dead. It was given out he’d met with an accident, but no one saw the body and no one saw the accident either, and they should have done, for there were villagers on the road at the time. Then the Prince showed up and claimed everything. There was talk he’d murdered his cousin for the inheritance, poisoning him most likely, and hiding the body. They said in the servants’ hall that the Prince had a friend who was much, much worse, and it was probably him who was behind it all. I paid them no notice to begin with, I thought it was just idle chatter, but once I found your letters I got to