Lord Davenham helped himself to a pinch of snuff and returned the box to his pocket.

'Not quite a whim on my part, Poyntz. In fact it was more a suggestion of my father's. He wants some information.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes,' nodded my lord. 'You see, there is a certain English nobleman who is being shall we say less than honest with his fellow countrymen. He holds a great deal of power and influence already, but it is not enough for him, sir.'

'It is not?' Poyntz looked wary.

'No. He wishes to restore a Stuart to the English throne, hoping thereby to become even more powerful.'

'Surely not, my lord!'

'But it is true,' returned the viscount. 'In fact, sir, I can tell you that this nobleman is suspected of treachery by many of the government, but he is cunning. There is no proof against him, and such is his influence at Court that more than rumours are required to denounce him.'

'Then it seems the gentleman is secure,' replied Poyntz, nervously biting his lip.

Observing signs of unease in his auditor, Lord Davenham smiled faintly.

'Oh, but that is far from the case. You see, my father has no love for this man - due, I suspect, to some age-old quarrel and he is determined to gather enough information to bring down the marquis. Oh, did I forget to mention that the nobleman in question is a marquis?'

'I'm sure it doesn't matter to me, my lord, since I know nothing about this matter,' said Poyntz, in a voice that was not quite steady.

'No, no, of course not. However, my father tells me that he already has information concerning several of the fellow's accomplices. There is a deal of information to be gained from these - ah - fellow conspirators, which would doubtless help us in our task, and gain clemency for the informants at the same time.'

Mr Poyntz eyed the viscount warily for a few seconds, then he laughed, saying with a fair assumption of confidence, 'Seems to me you've been sent to shoe a goose, Davenham! If there is treachery afoot, would your time not be better spent in London, watching this nameless gentleman? '

'Perhaps you are right,' murmured the viscount, moving away. 'I intend to return to London very shortly in any event, although my hosts, Madame and Monsieur Charriere, are holding a masquerade ball in a sennight, and I have given my word I shall stay until then. Mayhap I shall see you there, Poyntz. It seems to me that all of Paris has been invited and will doubtless attend,' he added thoughtfully, 'for the Charrieres are renowned for their hospitality, are they not?' And with a final bow, Viscount Davenham sauntered away, leaving a pensive Mr Poyntz to stare after him.

Chapter Four.

Madame de Sange is transformed

After the noise and activity of the Brire's soiree, Elinor found the Htel de Sange sepulchral. A solitary light burned in the hall, where she surprised a sleeping servant, who had not expected to see his mistress for another two hours at least. The jewelled heels of her shoes tapped loudly across the marble floor and up the wide staircase, but the thick rugs on the upper floors deadened all sound save the soothing rustle of Madame's skirts as she made her way to her bedchamber. Just as she reached her room, an elderly lady in a black gown appeared.

'You are returned early tonight, Madame.' She spoke in perfect English and with some surprise.

'Yes, Hannah. It was a tedious affair. I am very tired.' Elinor avoided the woman's searching look as she entered her bedchamber.

After the briefest hesitation, Hannah followed her. She watched as Madame threw off her cloak and sat down at her dressing table to remove her jewels, paying no heed to her companion, or the constant chatter of her voluble French maid. After a few moments, Hannah addressed the servant in English.

'Thank you, Bella. I will attend to Madame tonight. It is no good babbling away at me in French, young woman, for you know I don't understand the half of it, nor ever shall, no matter how many years I live here. Off you go to bed.'

'Poor Bella. I fear you have offended her,' Elinor smiled slightly as the maid was hustled out of the room, still muttering. 'You should not wait up for me, Hannah. You know I asked you to live here to give me respectability, not to be my servant.'

'Heavens, ma'am, have you forgotten that I was your nurse? Did you think that when your sweet mama died I would go back to England and leave you here alone with all these foreigners?'

Madame's lips twitched, but she replied gravely: 'We are the foreigners here, Hannah.'

'You know that I mean, Miss Nell. Now, let us get you into your wrap and I will let down your hair.'

Obediently Elinor allowed her old retainer to help her out of the heavy grey satin with its numerous petticoats and cumbersome hoop, replacing it with a cream wrap of fine wool. She then resumed her seat at the dressing table while Hannah brushed the grey powder from her chestnut hair with soothing, regular strokes.

'It is seldom that you leave a party early, Madame.'

Elinor avoided the sharp old eyes that watched her reflection in the glass.

'As I told you, 'twas a tedious affair. I could scarce conceal my boredom.'

The regular brushing stopped.

'Now Miss Nell, I've known you too long to be fobbed off with such a tale,' came the blunt reply. 'When I saw you come in, you looked for all the world as if you had seen a ghost.'

'Mayhap I did see one, Hannah.'

'Nay, child, what sort of talk is that?'

'I saw a man, Hannah. A fat Englishman named Poyntz. He did not recognize me, but I knew him at once ' Her voice trembled and she took a long breath before continuing, 'He was one of the men at on that night '

The older lady's face grew pale.

'Oh no, child. Surely you are mistaken.'

Elinor turned in her chair and caught at the frail hand that held the brush.

'There was no mistake! But I want to know, Hannah, could he be was he the one who killed my father?'

The servant stared down into the troubled green eyes and shook her head sadly.

'Miss Nell, I do not know. So long ago, I hoped you had forgotten.'

Elinor dropped the hand as if she had been stung.

'Forgotten!' she cried, jumping up, 'how could I forget that I was used for the pleasure of five so-called gentlemen, or that one of them murdered my father? I tell you, Hannah. Those five faces are burned into my memory, and will never be erased! But to see this man Poyntz, so so jovial and prosperous did all of them go unpunished?'

Hannah Grisson shrugged. 'That I do not know, for since our flight to France I have had no word from England. But why revisit your pain, my lady?'

'I do not revisit it, Hannah. It has never left me. But now ....' she paused, then glanced up at her servant, a little smile playing about her lips. 'Whatever my late husband's faults, he has left me in complete control of my fortune, so perhaps it is time I began to make use of the money.' She rose. 'I shall go to bed now, Hannah. I am sure it will please you to know that I have decided to leave off my grey gowns. Tomorrow, I shall set about replenishing my wardrobe with more cheerful colours.'

'Your sainted mother would be pleased to see you wearing colours again, Miss Nell,' said Hannah, her face brightening as she helped her mistress into bed. 'Perhaps some good has come of this night after all is said and done. Talking can do a deal of good, and mayhap your ghost is laid to rest.'

Elinor lay back against the soft pillows, her green eyes glinting.

'Not quite,' she said softly, 'but I hope he soon may be.'

Madame de Sange rose from her bed very early the following morning and issued her orders: she would see no one but her coiffeuse, and the dressmakers, milliners and the most fashionable mantua-makers in Paris that passed through the Htel de Sange in a constant stream. When at last she emerged once more into the Paris street a few days later, gone were the grey cloak and gown, replaced with a morning robe in emerald-green lustring and a cream woollen shawl thrown over her arm as a precaution lest any chill breeze should suddenly spring up. Her hair, previously dressed in thick powdered curls, was now pinned up neatly under a wide-brimmed straw hat, with little tawny ringlets framing her face. Today, however, this transformation was not for the benefit of any society acquaintance. Madame de Sange stepped up into her waiting coach and was borne away to the outskirts of Paris, where she could indulge in her favourite past-time. It was her habit, on fine days, to take her carriage to a small wooded glade where she could alight and walk undisturbed beside a stream that meandered through the trees. There she felt at peace. On this particular morning Elinor revelled in the solitude, for the past days had been so busy that she was glad of a respite to collect her thoughts. It was with some annoyance therefore that she observed a figure before her on the path. As she drew closer, she recognized the tall figure of Viscount Davenham. He sketched a bow as she came up to him.

'Good day to you, Madame de Sange.'

'Sir, I come here to be alone. Pray be so good as to go on your way.'

He raised his brows at her direct speech.

'I am sorry if I interrupt you.'

'You do interrupt me. Good day, sir!'

'Pray, hear me, Madame,' he cried, walking beside her. 'I have called at your house a dozen times since the Brire's soiree and on each occasion you have refused to see me.'

'With good reason. I have been engaged.'

'Then allow me now but a few moments of your time.'

'No.'

She walked on briskly, hoping he would turn back and leave her in peace. However, she soon realized that he had fallen into step behind her. He followed her in silence for some time, then: 'Faith, spirit,' she heard him say, 'whither wander you? Do you go, perhaps, like Shakespeare's fairy, over hill, over dale, thorough bush, thorough brier to serve some fairy queen?' receiving no answer, he continued in a conversational tone, 'It is exceeding pleasant here, is it not? The trees provide us with their leafy shade, birds delight us with their song and a stream too, a veritable paradise. I vow I could walk on forever. Indeed, I am beginning to think I shall be obliged to do so.'

Elinor stopped and turned to face him, trying to hide a smile.

'My lord, upon first meeting you, I discovered that you liked to converse with blocks of stone granite, was it not? Now I find you talking to yourself!'

'The latter case is easily remedied, ma'am.'

'Is there nothing I can say that will persuade you to go away?'

'No, Madame, nothing.'

'Then faith, sir, I must capitulate. You may walk back with me to my carriage.'

'Would you not care to stroll on a little further?' he asked her hopefully.

Quelling any desire to prolong their meeting, Elinor turned her steps resolutely back the way she had come.

'How did you know I would be here, Lord Davenham?'

'After trying unsuccessfully to call upon you, I made a few enquiries and discovered that you walked here most mornings.'

'Have you then been here, lying in wait for me?'

'Oh no. As I told you, I have tried each day to gain entry to your htel and having failed to do so, I watched for your carriage.'

'And did your sources fail to inform you that I detest company on my walks?'

'They told me of it, but I thought I should succeed.'

'Oh?' When he did not speak, curiosity forced her to ask, 'Why should you think you would succeed when others had failed?'

'Because we are both English. I learned from my informants that you came to France as a child. Thus, we have something in common.'

There was a pause and glancing down at the lady, my lord was somewhat surprised to see the look of annoyance upon her countenance. When at last she spoke her voice was low and taut.

'You are mistaken, sir. I no longer consider myself English, nor do I have any affection for that country.'

'Do you never come to England now?'

'No, never.'

'Then how can you be so sure you would not like it there?'

'My lord, I pray you will not question me too deeply. Let is suffice that England holds for me unpleasant memories.'

He stopped, obliging her to halt beside him. 'Then I would wish, Madame, that you would but take the trouble to come to London, and mayhap we could replace those memories with something a little happier.'

She shook her head, keeping her eyes lowered. 'I doubt you could do that.'

'I would willingly take up the challenge.'

With a tiny shake of her head Elinor resumed her walk.

'No. I am sorry. It will not do.' She spoke firmly. 'I have given you enough of my time, sir. You may escort me back to my carriage, if you so choose, but then I must ask that you do not trouble me again.'

'I must in any event return to England at the end of the month, surely there could be no harm '

'No!' she cried, stopping once more. 'It cannot be. I have other plans.' She drew a deep, steadying breath and looked up at him, forcing herself to meet his puzzled eyes squarely. 'I am sorry for it, my lord. If it were not for ' she broke off, then tried again. 'There are things that I must do. A course of action that I must follow, and it allows no room for other interests, my lord.'

'What,' he smiled at her. 'Are you about to take orders and enter a nunnery?'

'It would be all the same for you, sir, if I were,' she told him earnestly. 'Pray believe me, there is no place for you here.'

Steadily she faced him, returning look for look. At length Davenham shrugged.

'Very well, Madame. I can see you are resolved, and I will trouble you no further.' He smiled again, this time a little wryly. 'A pity, mistress, for I believe we should deal extremely well together.'

Elinor held out her hand but would not meet his eyes. She said softly, 'I am sorry.'