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excellent; the logs must be applewood here also, from the sweet smell. The walls were painted light terra-cotta, and the curtains were patterned with flowers, as if Serafina wanted to carry the summer with her, regardless of the iron rule of time and season.
    Vespasia looked across at the bed and could not keep the shock from her face.
    Serafina was propped almost upright by the pillows at her back. Her hair was white and dressed a little carelessly. Her face was devoid of any artificial color, although with her dark eyes and well-marked brows she did not look as ashen as a fairer woman might have. She had never been beautiful—not as Vespasia had been, and still was—but her features were good, and her courage and intelligence had made her extraordinary. Beside her, other women had seemed leached of life, and predictable. Now all that burning energy was gone, leaving a shell behind, recognizable only with effort.
    Serafina turned slowly and stared at the intruders in her room.
    Vespasia felt her throat tighten until she could barely swallow.
    “Lady Vespasia has come to see you, Aunt Serafina,” Nerissa said with forced cheerfulness. “And brought you some Belgian chocolates.” She held up the box with its beautiful ribbons.
    Slowly Serafina smiled, but it was only out of courtesy. Her eyes were blank.
    “How kind,” she said without expression.
    Vespasia moved forward, smiling back with an effort that she knew marred any attempt at sincerity. This was a woman whose mind had been as sharp as her own, whose wit nearly as quick, and she was no more than ten years older than Vespasia. But she looked empty, as if her fire and soul had already left.
    “I hope you’ll enjoy them,” Vespasia said, the words hollow as they left her lips. For a moment she wished she had not come. Serafina appeared to have no idea who she was, as if the past had been wiped out and they had not shared the kind of friendship that is never forgotten.
    Serafina looked at her with only a slow dawning of light in her eyes, as if shreds of understanding gradually returned to her.
    “I am sure you would like to talk for a little while,” Nerissa said gently. “Don’t tire yourself, Aunt Serafina.” The instruction was aimed obliquely at Vespasia. “I’ll put another log on the fire before I leave. If you need anything, the bell is easy to reach and I’ll come straightaway.”
    Serafina nodded very slightly, her eyes still fixed on Vespasia.
    “Thank you,” Vespasia replied. There was no escape. It would be inexcusable to leave now, however much she wished to.
    Nerissa went over to the fire, poked it a little, which sent up a shower of sparks, then carefully placed another log on top. She straightened her back and smiled at Vespasia.
    “It is so kind of you to come,” she said. “I’ll return in a little while.” She walked over to the door, opened it, and went out.
    Vespasia sat down in the chair next to the bed. What on earth could she say that would make sense? To ask after her friend’s health seemed almost a mockery.
    It was Serafina who spoke first.
    “Thank you for coming,” she said quietly. “I was afraid that no one would tell you. I have bad days sometimes, and I don’t remember things. I talk too much.”
    Vespasia looked at her. Her eyes were not empty anymore, butfilled with a deep anxiety. She was desperately searching Vespasia’s face for understanding. It was as if the woman Vespasia knew had returned for a moment.
    “The purpose of visiting is to talk,” Vespasia said gently. “The whole pleasure of seeing people is to be able to share ideas, to laugh a little, to recall all the things we have loved in the past. I shall be very disappointed if you don’t talk to me.”
    Serafina looked as if she was struggling to find words that eluded her.
    Vespasia thought immediately that, without meaning to, she had placed further pressure on Serafina, acting as if she was hoping to be entertained. That was not what she