Weeks passed, and I spent my time enjoying the fine weather and beautiful landscape of La Rocca. My strength returned to me, little by little. Each day, I would arise with the sun, and take breakfast on the veranda of my rented rooms, overlooking the harbor. Afterwards, I took a daily morning walk on the commons.

I came to be re-introduced to many of my friends; and while I remained frustrated and anxious that no recollection returned to me of their faces, or of our past connections, I was grateful for their kind patience. No greater friend was found than Don Aldo, whose thoughtful attention to these awkward introductions gave me great comfort.

Each day, as the morning's shadows shrank back from the sun, I would make my way into the little cafe. The ocean breezes blew in and the tile walls were a cool relief from the midday's scorch. It seemed that most were of like mind, as I found myself amidst many of the residents and visitors at this time of day. All gathered about tables, drinking the rich strong brew served by the barista. The room buzzed with conversation about the weather, the latest news of the various courts, and (of course) of fashion. It was an affable group, at a time of much-needed rest.

On one such morning, I found myself seated about a table with the beautiful Duchesa Fiorentina and her delightful Moor servant and companion, Jean-Matisse, Lady Candace was particularly radiant in her gown in hues of the sunset, Signores Stern, Gandt and Dieter were finely dressed and gallant, and Lady Aph, ever the gracious and entertaining hostess were in attendance. There was also another gentleman to whom I was not introduced, but he relayed such wonderful details of a well-attended discussion on architecture that made me regret not having been there. Or, perhaps I was.

The constant reminder that my life's memories began on the day of my regaining consciousness was a source of anxiety for me. Little did I know that I did not have long to wait before a small breakthrough.

As was usual, the conversation was free-flowing and as apt to change direction as a small stream of water after a long day's rain. The discussion turned to horse-riding, and Lady Candace told of her horse, who was kept by dear friends in the French countryside. Upon further discussion I mentioned that I, too, had a horse back in England, whose name was Barrow. And upon the utterance, I immediately realized that there was no possibility of that information being given to me before being transported to La Rocca. That it was, indeed, a spur of the moment recollection. I was overjoyed!

Quickly and quietly, as the conversation ebbed and flowed, I called over my footman and dispatched him to advise the maids to pack up my things, and that I should like to return to England post haste.

While the bustle of packing my trunks was in full force, a messenger delivered a note to me, that should I be in France, His Serene Highness, Louis di Bourbon-Conti would like very much to have tea. We had re-connected, and he had offered his services in any way, to aid me in my quest to remember my past.

As I had full use of my father's most speedy ship, The Boccara, I changed the route with the crew, and we set sail for Marseilles. As the journey quickly progressed, I reviewed the notes I had taken while in La Rocca, memorizing the names of each friend and the stories and recollections they had relayed, in the hopes that I would find another spark to open the door even further. The effort netted me no results, but I was eager to see my friend and hear what he had to say.

We arrived at the port of Marseilles and some small trunks were loaded onto the coach for my next leg, to meet with Louis. The crew would sail from Marseilles to Bordeaux and I would get to them by stage coach, and then sail back to Portsmouth.

Soon enough, and after a stop at an Inn to regain a fresh appearance, we arrived at the gates of the chateau. I was escorted in by Louis and shown to his parlor, where tea and cakes were already set out. There was an easy comfort between us, and so without the usual pleasantries, I got right down to the matter at hand.

He inquired if I had made any progress, and I explained that while my health was nearly completely restored, my memory was not, though I did relay the matter of recalling my horse's name. It sounded so ridiculous spoken aloud, but he understood and went further, telling me that I had not liked my husband, and some various other details of my life, which others had politely swept aside when speaking with me. I so appreciated his forthright manner, and took in all of the information. He even stepped out a moment and returned with a stack of envelopes; invitations and letters written to him by me.

I suddenly felt quite overwhelmed; I wondered if I shall ever be able to repay the debt of those who have provided me with the clues that might aid me in reassembling my past.

We ended our afternoon with a short tour of his home, and I extended an open invitation to him, should he ever find himself on English soil, and far too soon, I found myself standing again at his gate, with the carriage door open for me. He kissed my hand, we waved to one another, and I left for an Inn at a mid-way point to rest before traveling again, to meet the ship.

My mind raced with all of the new enlightenment afforded me, and I strained to think of any little thing that might grant me the knowledge I sought. One would think that physical exertion would make us more weary, but oh, the taxing efforts of the mind are far more weighty. I believe I slept more on the short voyage from Bordeaux to Portsmouth than I spent awake.

Finally arriving at my estate, I left the footmen to see to the trunks and retired to my sitting room. I sat gazing at the fire for some time, happy to be on a more comfortable surface than the carriage interior, and then rose. I realized that the recollection of Barrow came at a time when I was not actively in pursuit of the memory, but once that glorious remembrance came to mind, I found that I was unable to relax my senses enough to perhaps urge another forward.

Instead, I sat at my desk, and wrote the names of those whom I would invite to the estate to stay. For dinner, a dance, some gambling... all of those would be diverting, and surrounded by my friends, I hoped that more pieces of the puzzle might be laid before me.