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She dressed carelessly and made a passable attempt at taming her hair into a bun, shocked at how pale she looked. She went down to breakfast but did not feel ready to eat anything more than a piece of dry toast. Corinna was there, also pale. ‘Goodness, I can no longer thrive on late nights.’ She sighed as she eased herself into a chair. ‘Either I’m getting old or it’s having a young child and another on the way that has altered my capacity for balls.’

‘Well, I have no children as my excuse but I too feel as weak as watered milk.’ Eliza nibbled at her toast.

‘You’ve had a number of shocks to absorb. No wonder you’re exhausted.’ Corinna’s face brightened. ‘But I have some good news. Alick has an aunt with a house in Bath, in Great Pulteney Street. She’s in Town for the Season and is happy to lend it to us.’

Eliza’s spirits in part revived. This was a quest she had to follow to the end although she quailed at the thought of any more brutal confounding of her hopes. In a quiet voice she said, ‘That’s very kind. When do you think we should go?’

‘Alick is staying in Town. But Mr Flynn is set on joining us. I saw him before he left to settle his new mare in the mews. He seems keen to see Bath; it’s one of the central attractions on the English tour.’ She poured out another cup of coffee for them both and added, ‘I think we should set off in two days’ time. Does that suit you?’

Eliza was taken aback. To go so soon alarmed her. She didn’t feel ready for more shocks, but was also longing to find her father and hungry for information. To get to know Zadoc Flynn better was also appealing, if only to find out how serious he was about taking Rose to America with him.

Alick came into the room and threw himself into a chair, reaching out for a glass of ale. He looked more dishevelled than usual and ran his hand through his hair, adding to his general mien of distraction. ‘Just bumped into Purfoy. He’s off to his estate in Hertfordshire. Not like him to leave Town in the Season. But he’s been out of sorts for a while.’

Corinna looked up at her husband with a questioning eye. ‘Did Rav tell you why he’s going?’

‘No. You know how close to his chest he plays his cards. Could be that ladybird of his is on the move and he wants to keep her within touching distance.’

Corinna cast a quelling look at her husband who was unaware of Eliza’s conflicted feelings for their friend. Certainly, Corinna was pretty sure Lord Purfoy was so discreet that there was no way her young guest could suspect such an arrangement with anyone like Mrs Cornford. She said hastily, ‘I’m thinking we should set off in two days for Bath, if you’re happy to do without us for a short while? I thought we’d take the large coach to accommodate Eliza and Mr Flynn, along with me and baby Emma, Nurse Meg and Polly.’

Alick looked at his wife with consternation. ‘I don’t want you tiring yourself in your condition. You’ll have to travel over three days.’

Corinna was brusque in her response. ‘I’m not an invalid, you know. I would enjoy a few days in Bath; it’s a while since we were there, Alick, when we had such an enjoyable time.’ Her eye caught his. They had spent a week in the city after their marriage and although it was rainy and unseasonably cold, she would always remember it with pleasure.

He smiled indulgently and said, ‘Very well, I’ll book rooms for you at The Bird in Hand at Knowl Hill and then for the second night, The Marlborough Arms. They’ll be long days travelling. I hope you’ll be comfortable enough.’

Corinna finished her coffee and turning to Eliza, said, ‘I’m so close to finishing your portrait. Are you happy to sit for me one last time this afternoon?’

‘I’d be pleased to. I’m excited to see it completed at last.’ Eliza stood up. There were letters she had to write and she had been told to help herself to the writing paper in the library. She sat in the window seat and the peace of the room washed over her. The rows of leather-bound books glowed in the morning light, giving the sense of being in a golden cave, with all those words, all those ideas and lives, waiting for her to explore. Corinna’s copy of The Corsair was tucked under her arm, a companion she could turn to in any empty moments and a connection with Lord Purfoy’s soul. The suffering hero, both poetic and in life, found deep resonance in her heart.

She wrote first to Rose in her quick hand, deprecating the incident at the ball with Davenport and assuring her of her affection.

The second letter she wrote to her new friend Marina Fairley in a more formal manner.

Dear Miss Fairley,

Would it be possible to meet you for a ride in Hyde Park? I suggest tomorrow, at two after Noon. Lord Purfoy and Taz are out of Town so I will be riding a different Horse.

Yours ever,

Eliza

The words Lord Purfoy and Taz are out of Town took some of the lustre from the day. Why, she wondered, had she given her heart without condition to a man whom she had been warned was proof against love? Why was she so certain that there could be no one else for her? Was it that his face was the first she saw when she regained consciousness and, in that primitive impulse for survival in a moment of peril, she allied herself with the first living being who offered safety, deciding against all odds that her destiny lay with him?

Raven Purfoy was so mysterious and unknown that the unexpected anguish of his words to her meant they could not be forgotten. You intoxicate me… Art thou some enchantress? To so fill my dreams with you… For better or for worse, her dream had settled on his elegant, aloof person, never expecting he would love her and make the fantasy real. In her young life Eliza had learned to keep her deepest longings in the realm of fantasy as protection from an unforgiving world. It was hard to relinquish her self-protective habits and learn to trust again that sometimes a prayer could be answered, a dream, fulfilled.

Eliza heard the distant church clock strike twice and hurried through to Corinna’s studio where the artist already stood at her easel while baby Emma practised her walking by staggering from chair to table before subsiding at her mother’s feet.

Eliza sat and watched this plump, fair-haired child collect a box that had held her mother’s pigments and with a torn piece of old cloth, make a bed for her wooden cat. The care and ingenuity shown by her intrigued Eliza. She wondered what kind of child she herself had been. She had no one to tell her, no one to remember. Emma started singing ‘Rock-a-Bye Baby’ surprisingly in tune and a distant memory was awoken that made Eliza catch her breath. For a moment she was back in her own nursery and the ghost of a face hovered over her crib and, as if drawn in air, faded quickly away.

Corinna had been concentrating hard on capturing the emotion behind her sitter’s extraordinary eyes. And with one final speck of Naples yellow dabbed onto the canvas, she stood back and narrowed her gaze. ‘Yes, I think that is done.’ Her voice was quiet, almost as if she were speaking to herself. Her eyes remained on her painting as she said, ‘Miss Gray, come and see what you think.’

Eliza moved to stand beside Corinna and looked on this finished representation of her self. Emotion rushed up into her chest and colour suffused her cheeks. Here was a woman she recognised, yet the expression in her eyes was so unlike any she had ever seen: caught off guard, pensive, ready for adventure but with a veil of melancholy. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, ‘but I seem so lonely.’

‘I know. But that is what I see when I look closely at your face. In company you are full of vivacity and laughter but I see something solitary at your centre. It’s very much part of you.’ Corinna looked across at her young guest and noticed tears were coursing down her face. Dashing them away, Eliza seemed as surprised as Corinna who said gently, ‘Sometimes to see a finished portrait of oneself can be a deeply affecting thing.’

Eliza could not stop herself from giving Corinna a brief, intense hug. She was shaken by how touching it was to be truly understood, and she felt an unexpected intimacy with the artist who had revealed to her this hidden self. Corinna said, ‘When you have found your family and have a home of your own, it will be my gift to you.’ She picked up Emma and slung her on her hip.

‘This is the most precious present I could ever hope for. Thank you.’ They both walked towards the door, Eliza stealing a look over her shoulder at the portrait drying on the easel, seeming to be alive yet left all alone in the room.