Elinor put up a hand.

'Later, perhaps, but first we must talk.' She rose and began to pace the room, trying to collect her thoughts. 'Hannah, how long were you with my mother?'

'Why, that's a strange question, ma'am! To be sure I can remember as plain as anything. I became her personal maid just before her marriage to your sainted father.'

'Then you were with her when I was born?'

'But of course, Miss Nell. Haven't I told you time and again that I used to rock you to sleep when you were a babe?'

Elinor came to stand directly before her, taking her hands and looking into the older woman's face with such an intense stare that Hannah shifted uncomfortably.

'But were you present when I was born, Hannah?'

'Miss Nell, I-'

'Am I truly the child of Ambrose and Helena Burchard?'

'Really, Madame, there's a question to ask me!' cried Hannah, turning away.

'There is no one else to tell me, and I must know the truth.'

There was a long silence that seemed to Elinor to press mockingly upon her. When at last the answer came she felt strangely at peace.

'You were a foundling, Miss Nell. Brought to our door one night by a serving maid who had heard that the mistress had recently been brought to bed but had lost her own child within hours of its birth.'

'What month was it?'

'Why, November, Miss Nell. It was so very cold and the girl begged us to take you, saying that if we did not she would be obliged to put an end to you. The old master said it was a miracle, a gift from God he called you, and he himself carried you up the stairs to my lady's room. She took to you at once, Miss Nell, for you were a dear little scrap.' She looked appealingly at Elinor, 'Pray, ma'am, don't look like that. I swear they could not have loved you more, had you been of their own flesh!'

'I know it, Hannah. I think I should like to be alone for a while. Will you send down my excuses? I shall not require dinner.'

'But, Madame, we have not yet changed your dress.' Hannah moved towards her, alarmed to see her green eyes bright with unshed tears.

Elinor waved her away.

'No. Please, just go.'

Alone once more, Elinor sank down upon the nearest chair. She scarcely noticed her cloak thrown over the chairback, her mind trying to grasp all she had heard that day. Hannah's story confirmed what Lady Thurleigh had said, but Elinor had never really doubted it. The likeness between them was too strong. What was it Lady Hartworth had said? The woman has the soul of a strumpet! She felt the tears welling up inside her. Such a woman then was her true mother. She could bear that she thought that she could even bear to be the bastard child of one of the lady's many lovers, it would be preferable to being Thurleigh's daughter.

A black despair settled upon her. She had been cursed from the start, bringing nothing but death and unhappiness to those around her. Elinor leaned back against the cloak and became aware of a solid object beneath its folds. She remembered then that she still had the knife with which she had threatened the bishop. Davenham had given it to her that very morning on their way to Islington. Sweet Heaven, it seemed a lifetime ago! She recalled that he had drawn her attention to the intricate craftsmanship of the leather and silver scabbard, and the delicate engraving of the family coat of arms upon the blade itself. He had translated the motto for her Honour is all. Proud words for a proud family.

Elinor was aware of an almost physical pain twisting within her: if she had truly been the daughter of Ambrose Burchard, then perhaps she might have been accepted by Lord and Lady Hartworth, despite her history, but a foundling had no place here. A bitter little laugh escaped her lips. What was she thinking of? She was no foundling worse than that! Dear God, that she had never been born. Honour is all. The words came back to haunt her. Dashing a hand across her eyes, she reached into the pocket of her cloak and drew out the dagger.

In the morning room, the viscount gave a full account of his meeting with the marquis. Lady Hartworth's cheeks had grown quite white during the tale, and her eyes were wide with astonishment when her son disclosed Lady Thurleigh's intervention. When he had finished, Davenham waited for a reaction from his audience. Lady Hartworth looked towards the earl.

'Can such a story possibly be true?'

'It would appear that Thurleigh did not doubt it.'

'The poor child. Then she must be his heir!'

'Only if she wishes to claim kinship,' put in Davenham swiftly. Aware of his father' scrutiny, he added, 'Elinor and I are the only ones alive who heard Margaret Thurleigh's confession, and if Elinor does not wish for the connection, I shall not force it upon her.' He paused. 'I intend to marry her, you know.'

'I had guessed as much.'

The countess stared at her husband. 'You do not object?'

'On the contrary,' he replied. 'The child was reared as the daughter of one of my oldest friends. I see no reason to think of her as anything other than that.'

Two strides brought the viscount across the room to stand before his father. Taking the earl's hand he bowed low over it, his lips just brushing the thin fingers in filial respect.

'Thank you, sir.' His voice was unsteady, but there was no mistaking the glow of happiness in his blue eyes.

'Well, 'pon my word!' exclaimed the countess, taking out her handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. 'I fear this is all too much for me. Such a deal of events and surprises in one day.'

'Do you mislike the match, Mama?'

My lady waved one white hand.

'No, no, I have grown very fond of the child, but to find that she is the daughter of....' Her voice trailed off in a shudder of revulsion. The viscount moved over to the sofa and sat down beside his mother. Taking her hands in his own he looked at her, a slight frown darkening his eyes.

'Mama, you cannot blame Elinor for an accident of birth. She was raised in a very different world from that of Guy Morellon, Marquis of Thurleigh. Also, I learned today that she saved my life. The night the marquis broke into Hart Chase, it seems she traded my life for the ruby. I doubt Elinor would ever have spoken of it, had not Thurleigh mentioned the matter.' He hesitated before continuing slowly, 'Elinor de Sange has become the most important person in my life, Mama, and if it causes a rift between us then I am sorry for it, but I mean to marry her, if she will have me.'

'Oh my dear boy!' Lady Hartworth clung to him, smiling tremulously as she tried to blink away the tears, 'of course you must marry her, if that is what you want. But I pray you, allow me a little time to grow accustomed. It has all happened so suddenly.'

'Of course, Mama! Elinor also will need time to recover from the events of the day. God knows what she must be thinking.' He rose. 'I must go to her. Pray excuse me, Mama sir.'

As he reached the door the sound of raised voices floated down from the half-landing, where Hannah Grisson was engaged in a heated altercation with the butler. Catching sight of Lord Davenham, she pushed past the servant and hung over the banister.

'Oh, sir, pray come up at once. I fear my lady is dead!'

The viscount flew across the hall and took the stairs two at a time.

'She has locked her door, my lord!' cried Hannah as he came up to her. 'I knocked and called out to her, but she did not answer, and when I looked through the keyhole I swear I saw a dagger upon the floor!'

Davenham ran up the second flight of stairs, his face grim as he approached Elinor's door. After briefly trying the handle he set his shoulder to the door and in a matter of seconds there was a splintering of wood and the door flew open to reveal Elinor lying on the floor, the unsheathed knife beside her and a small bloodstain upon her bodice.

'Oh my poor babe!' exclaimed Hannah.

She started forward but the viscount was there before her, dropping on one knee beside Elinor. He saw the faint throb of life at her neck.

'Fetch the doctor, quickly!' He lifted Elinor gently and carried her across to the bed. 'The blade glanced off the boning of her corset.' He gave a shaky laugh. 'I never thought to be grateful to this fashion for tight-lacing! By the time the blade had cut through the padding and reached the rib-cage, the force was not sufficient to do more than scratch the skin. I think she has merely fainted, but we must remove her gown to be sure.'

Hannah almost hustled the viscount out of the way.

'This is a woman's work now, my lord,' she told him briskly. 'I am much obliged for your help, but you need have no fear of leaving Miss Nell to me.' Observing his look she said in a softer tone, 'Off you go, sir, and don't worry. I have nursed my mistress through many a crisis. She will be safe now.'

For more than a week Elinor kept to her bed, she slept a great deal, and would take but a fraction of the nourishing dishes with which Hannah tried to tempt her. She developed a fever and grew delirious, reliving the recent events that had rocked her life. Upon one occasion she awoke from a particularly vivid dream to find a gentleman sitting beside the bed. It was dark, and there were no lights near the bed to disturb her rest. She lay still for a moment, trying to make out the shadowy figure beside her. Sleep still clouded her mind and she lifted her hand a little from the covers.

'Ralph?'

'No, Elinor. Go back to sleep.' Davenham's voice came to her from a great distance. She wanted to smile, to tell him she was glad he was beside her, but the effort was too great and she drifted away again into slumber.

The fever passed, but it left Elinor weak and listless. On the doctor's advice Elinor was lifted from her bed each morning and made comfortable upon a day-bed that had been drawn over to the window, so that she could look out upon the small pleasure garden that had been built to the earl's design. As spring passed into summer the garden bloomed with colour, providing a delightful prospect for the invalid, although she scarcely seemed to notice it. Every day the viscount came to sit with her for an hour, reading from books that might amuse her, or bringing her news of her acquaintance in Town. He was careful to avoid any mention of Lord Thurleigh or any other matter he thought might upset her, yet all his attempts at entertainment evoked no response. Elinor would listen to him in silence, a closed look upon her face that seemed to shut out the world. Davenham was in despair. It seemed no amount of coaxing would bring the fire back to those green eyes that now gazed at him so indifferently.

Lord Hartworth was aware of his son's growing anxiety, noting the grim set of his mouth after each visit, and at length he decided it was time to try a different approach. On a particularly sunny morning Lord Hartworth visited the sick-room. Hannah had just finished making Elinor comfortable upon the day bed when the earl entered.

'May I come in? If you will permit me, Madame, there are a few matters I should like to discuss with you.' He gestured to Hannah to leave the room, then he drew up a chair towards the day-bed and sat down. 'My son fears to upset you, but I know you are a young woman of considerable spirit, Elinor Burchard, and you deserve to know the truth.' Receiving no response, the earl turned his gaze to the window. 'I cannot remember looking at the garden from this point before. I designed it, you know. It is looking beautiful this morning, do you not think so? Although I do think the roses on the west wall should have been cut back a little harder. They look decidedly untidy.'

'I like their wildness.'

Not by so much as the flicker of an eyelid did my lord acknowledge that anything unusual had occurred, although he was well aware that Elinor had spoken to no one since the fever had abated. Her merely nodded, his eyes still fixed upon the window.

'Perhaps you are right. I came to tell you that Bishop Furminger has now made his confession to the proper authorities. You will be pleased to know that he will now be judged as he deserves. Also, his Majesty is very grateful to you for your part in bringing the traitors to justice.'

He paused, turning slightly to observe her as he spoke again. 'You should also know that the bodies of Lord and Lady Thurleigh have disappeared.'

Elinor's eyes widened slightly.

'I sent to Lord Thurleigh's town house the day after his death, as soon as the streets were safe again, but it seems Thurleigh's servants never returned there.'

'Then, the ruby has gone, too.'

'Yes.'

Elinor gazed blankly out of the window.

'It was in truth a blood stone. I pray it will not curse another family as it has done mine.' Her eyes fixed themselves upon the earl. 'Is there no hope of learning the truth?'

'I fear not. A search of the area brought to light the burned-out shell of a large carriage, but there was no means of identifying it. I think we must face the possibility that the marquis and his wife may never be found. Which brings me to the point of my visit.'

A tinge of colour crept into Elinor's pale cheek, but she continued to meet his gaze.

'My lord you know of Lady Thurleigh's disclosure?'

'Jonathan told me.'

She looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap.

'You should also know, sir, that the story is borne out by what I have learned from Hannah. There seems no reason to doubt that I am ... I am the daughter of the Marquis of Thurleigh.' Her voice was scarcely above a whisper and a fleeting glance at the earl's face told her nothing of his thoughts. 'I am sorry - I fear I have inconvenienced you long enough, sir. Regretfully I do not yet have the strength, but if you would be good enough to make the arrangements for me, I shall of course remove from your house at the earliest possible '

'If that is your wish, Madame, I can only wonder that you have not spoken of it sooner.'

The earl's tone was perfectly reasonable, but still Elinor winced.

'In truth, my lord, I have been refusing to consider the matter. I offer you my apologies, for I know you will want me gone from here.'

'You know nothing of the sort, young lady!'

She drew out her handkerchief. 'I am sorry, my lord.'

'And I wish you would rid yourself of this tiresome habit of apologising for everything. I have no idea why you should think it necessary to do so. Doubtless you mean to tell me you are sorry for saving my son's life?'

She afforded his words a watery chuckle. 'Indeed, sir, I could never do that!'

'Then let us get back to the matter in hand. From what Davenham has told me, the servants were too far away to hear Lady Thurleigh's story, so the only people who know of your parentage are in this house.'

'Is that not enough?'

'Answer me one thing, child.' He ignored her interruption. 'Do you wish to acknowledge the connection?'

She stared at him. 'Of course I do not!'

'Don't forget, Elinor, that the marquis was a very rich man. I believe the title must pass to a male heir, but the best part of his property would go to any legitimate child of his marriage.'

Elinor shook her head.

'I have more than enough for my needs. I should be desperate indeed before I could be induced to touch one groat of his fortune!'

'That is as I expected,' said the earl, rising. 'Well, let them fight it out amongst themselves, all those distant relatives who will now turn up, claiming their part of the Thurleigh inheritance. As for you, child, if you are content to be known as the daughter of Ambrose Burchard, I see no reason why that should not be the case. Indeed, I think it is the greatest compliment you could pay my old friend.'

'Th-thank you, my lord.'

'And perhaps I could persuade you to take a little stroll around the gardens later. I think you will find that upon closer inspection you will agree with me about the roses.'

With a smile and a bow my lord turned and walked out of the room. Elinor, dazed by the effort the interview had cost her, rested her head against the cushions to consider all that had been said. After a few moments her eyelids drooped and when Hannah came into the room a little while later she found her mistress in a deep slumber.

Following the earl's visit Elinor made rapid progress. As summer reached its height the earl and his household removed to Hart Chase, where my lady hoped Elinor would benefit from the country air. The house at Knight's Bridge was given up and Elinor was persuaded to make an indefinite stay with Lord and Lady Hartworth. No longer obliged to hide away, she could now take part in the picnics, rides and parties that were arranged between the neighbouring families and with these mild entertainments she passed away the summer months. Lord Davenham had not accompanied them, and if Elinor was missing his company, she gave no sign, nor would she admit even to herself how many hours were spent in useless fantasies. She conducted herself with calm assurance and such an air of serenity that Lady Hartworth was convinced they had mistaken the matter. However, the earl would not be drawn. He merely smiled knowingly and went about his business.

At the beginning of September Lord Davenham sent a message to say he would be joining his parents for a brief visit. Elinor heard the news calmly, thinking that after a separation of more than six weeks she was well able to cope with meeting the viscount again. Yet when he entered the library at Hart Chase two days later, she could not prevent the colour rising to her cheeks. The earl and his lady had gone out to visit friends and Elinor was alone, engaged in making a fair copy of a household inventory when Lord Davenham walked in. Taken by surprise and furious with herself for blushing, her embarrassment was complete when her pen spluttered, blotting the neat lines of figures she had just completed. The viscount's harsh look relaxed as he watched her.

'I find that very encouraging,' he remarked, stripping off his riding gloves. 'I am not sure whether or not you are pleased to see me, but at least you are not indifferent to my arrival!'

She laughed and came around the big mahogany desk, holding out her hand to him.

'How could I be indifferent, when you have made me spoil my whole morning's work? How do you do, my lord?'

'That's much better,' he told her, holding on to her hand and smiling down at her in a way that made her heart pound uncomfortably. 'I was afraid you would greet me as coldly as you bade me goodbye.'