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‘I can see you’ve got it all worked out. I commend you, young man, this must be the first time you’ve taken responsibility for anyone – oh! But I forgot, it’s not you but me who will be taking responsibility for Miss Leigh and her survival!’

Lord Latimer grasped his uncle’s hands and made as if to hug him. ‘Does that mean I can bring her here?’ he said, beaming, a weight shifting from him.

‘No, it does not. I owe Miss Leigh nothing. I owe you something, ’tis true, but not this, to boldly flout your mother’s wishes and to risk everything I value in my life.’

‘But would you have her death on your conscience?’

‘My conscience is already heavy; nothing could make that burden worse.’

‘But you know what it is to care for someone with inflammation of the lungs.’

Ivor Asprey turned away, his face expressing all the sorrow of the last five years. With a sigh that seemed to come from the depths, he capitulated. ‘What does Miss Leigh think of this plan of yours? She may not be happy to be parcelled up by you and delivered to my abode.’

Charles Latimer grasped his uncle’s arm in relief and gratitude. ‘She doesn’t know. She did not even recognise one of her friends, Miss Fitzjames.’

‘Ah, I’ve heard about Miss Fitzjames and her predicament.’ His uncle then turned businesslike. ‘You have to make sure Miss Leigh gives her consent. I do not wish her kidnapped. Most importantly, everything must be done discreetly. I have two important bills on Catholic emancipation and child labour to shepherd through Parliament. Any scandal attached to my name will jeopardise this.’

‘I do understand.’ He grasped his uncle’s hand again. ‘My mother won’t know anything and I’ll ask Martin, Miss Leigh’s factotum, to have the family servants swear their silence.’

‘I’ll speak to Miss Stafford and the housekeeper will make up some rooms for Miss Leigh and her maid – Mary, isn’t it? – at the back of the house.’

‘Thank you, sir. Thank you. This has relieved me so. You will be the saviour of Miss Leigh.’ His lordship’s voice was thick with emotion.

‘I only hope that will prove the case. If Miss Leigh agrees, bring her tonight when I am at Westminster. But come through the mews and the garden.’

* * *

Angelica was woken from fitful sleep by her maid who asked if she was willing to see Miss Fitzjames. She struggled to sit up. ‘Is she downstairs already?’ She could not manage the simple question without breaking in the middle to gasp for breath.

‘She is, Miss Angelica. But may I tidy you first?’ Mary did not wait for a reply but unplaited her mistress’s hair and drew a comb carefully through the tangled curls. With the cloth that lay half-submerged in the bowl of herb-strewn water by the bed, she washed Angelica’s feverish cheeks and passed it to her to clean her hands. ‘Now, let’s replace your chemise with a fresh one?’ In response to Angelica’s faint nod Mary whisked the damp, crumpled one off over her mistress’s head and slipped on the fresh cool lawn.

Miss Fitzjames entered the room tentatively. She tiptoed to Angelica’s bedside and took her proffered hand. ‘Oh Miss Angelica, how are you feeling?’

‘I would feel better if I could breathe,’ Angelica whispered between gasps.

The fact she was recognised eased Isobel Fitzjames’s worst anxiety and she squeezed the pale hand that lay in hers, saying, ‘This is why I am here. Lord Latimer is concerned for your health and wants you to be cared for by a doctor other than Mr Hapwood. If you are willing, he’s organised for you and Mary to stay at his uncle’s house in St James’s. Until you are better or your mother has returned.’

A fit of coughing shattered the peace of the room and eventually Angelica lay back pale and exhausted on her pillows. ‘I feel incapable of thought, Miss Isobel. What do you and Mary think I should do?’ She gazed across at her maid who had withdrawn to fold clothes by the window.

Mary returned to her mistress’s side, her face stiff with concern. ‘I would prefer your care was not in the hands of Mr Hapwood,’ was all she said.

Miss Fitzjames was more expansive. ‘I think Lord Latimer has your best interests at heart. He seems very exercised by Mr Hapwood’s propensity for bleeding his patients. That was the physician who treated his aunt.’

Angelica’s eyes were closed, but she murmured, ‘Who subsequently died, depriving her child of her mother.’ The effort of speech tired her out.

‘Shall I tell Lord Latimer that you agree?’ Her friend’s voice was gentle. Angelica nodded.

As the light faded, she was wrapped in two cloaks, the hood of one pulled over her head for warmth and disguise. Fur-lined ankle boots were laced and tied and she slipped her hands into an enormous fur muff, its warmth and softness radiating a sense of comfort and safety. Together, Mary and Martin helped her down the stairs where Miss Fitzjames and Lord Latimer waited in the hall. It was the first time he had seen Angelica since coming to her aid at the theatre and he was shocked at how pale and weak she seemed.

He had hired a Hackney coach to travel incognito and all four of them squeezed into the mean interior. Angelica’s luggage was heaved onto the back by Martin who was overcome with emotion in his farewell. Poking his head through the window he said, with a catch in his voice, ‘Miss Angelica, you have been the sunshine in our lives. I pray to the Blessed Mary and all the Saints you come back to us restored. And soon.’ She lifted her head and met his eyes, which were welling with tears that streaked the sooty powder on his lashes, adding a clownish pathos to his face.

‘Remember, Martin, you tell no one where Miss Leigh has gone.’ Lord Latimer’s voice was stern.

The uncomfortable journey did not last long and under cover of darkness Angelica was soon half-carried from the mews through the gardens into the Asprey house via the back door. She gazed at the stone staircase curving upwards just as a tall young woman dressed in a grey checked dress descended, her hand outstretched. ‘Miss Leigh, I’m Miss Stafford, Elinor Asprey’s governess. I’m pleased to welcome you.’ Mr Asprey’s nephew was a frequent visitor and she inclined her head in greeting while he stepped forward to introduce Isobel Fitzjames. The Hackney was still waiting and both of them bade farewell. Lord Latimer handed Miss Fitzjames and her maid into the coach to return home while he turned to walk the few paces to St James’s and his club.

Angelica was coughing again and barely had the breath to climb the stairs but once Mary had settled her into bed she could close her eyes at last. The house was hushed and seemed to run like clockwork. Illness had made Angelica particularly sensitive to her surroundings. The room was warm and she lay supported by pillows, listening to the unfamiliar sounds around her. She imagined that all the inhabitants of this well-organised household were held in a benign hand, and for the first time in her life she felt herself safe. The soft hooting of an owl outside her window added to the sense of peace. Although her sleep was broken with fits of coughing, she no longer felt afraid and could drift off into a more restorative sleep than she had had for days.

The morning brought Miss Stafford into her room. She was carrying a bowl and a towel which she placed on the table beside Angelica. ‘Good morning, Miss Leigh. How was your night?’