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hadn’t thought of that. I tell him, ‘It has become impossible for me to remain at the Academy any longer now that my parents are dead, and I have no remaining family in this country. I understand from the Marquis de Roussell that my father was the son of the Duc de Limours and that I have an uncle. Surely you can understand now why I must go to France?’
    ‘De Roussell told you that?’
    ‘He recognised my father’s ring. As I believe did you.’
    Mr d’Aubery looks at me impassively.
    ‘Didn’t you?’ I insist.
    ‘Your father had no wish to discuss the matter.’
    ‘Nevertheless, I intend to visit Fontainebleau and meet the only family I have left.’
    ‘This is not the time for such a visit. I implore you to reconsider.’
    I lift my chin and fold my arms.
    ‘Who travels with you?’
    ‘We have no need of a great retinue of servants,’ I say, forestalling him before he can argue the point. ‘We shall not seek out any trouble,’ I say. ‘My intention is only to carry out my lifelong desire to meet my relatives and to for us to broaden our education by travel.’
    ‘I beg you to desist.’
    ‘Our minds are quite made up,’ I said firmly.
    He rubs his hands wearily over his face. ‘If you are so determined,’ he says after a long pause, ‘and since I expect to return to France in the next fortnight, then I had better accompany you as far as Paris. I would never forgive myself if I discovered that your obstinacy had led you into difficulties.’
    A great sense of relief washes over me. Despite my brave words it had occurred to me that this was not the best time to be travelling to France, but Sophie has no choice. Now we shall not have to make the journey into the unknown by ourselves.
    Sophie lets out a cry of delight. ‘Mr d’Aubery, that is the very thing! Think how merry we shall be all together.’
    Mr d’Aubery sighs. ‘I suggest I arrange false identity papers for you both and we shall all travel from Dover on the same packet.’

Chapter 7
     
    Mr d’Aubery comes for me at first light one raw January morning.
    I have slept poorly, worrying about the wisdom of venturing into a strange land in the company of a man who is reputed to have murdered his wife. Eventually, however, I decided that nothing in his demeanour leads me to believe he is likely to murder us. Besides, Sophie’s plight permits no delay.
    ‘I’ll ask you once more,’ says Mr d’Aubery, ‘are you quite sure you wish to make this journey?’
    The severity of his expression causes me another pang of doubt but I’ll not back down now. ‘I am.’
    ‘At least you have followed my instructions regarding your luggage,’ he says, lifting my single travelling bag into his carriage.
    He’d warned us to bring nothing more than we can carry ourselves and to wear sombre clothes in the new French peasant fashion so as not to draw unwelcome attention. Sophie had argued but Mr d’Aubery had been so fierce in reminding her that the revolutionaries might otherwise believe us to be aristocrats and set upon us, that she had quietened her complaints.
    ‘You must take off your father’s ring, Miss Moreau,’ says Mr d’Aubery. ‘The crest may be recognised.’
    Obediently, I slip the ring from my finger. I shall thread it on to a ribbon and wear it around my neck under my fichu.
    A moment later we are rolling out of Soho Square.
    I peer out of the rear window of the carriage at the house that has been my home for most of my life until it is lost from my view. Blinking back tears, I wonder if I have made a terrible mistake. But then I remember the look of relief in Mrs Jephcott’s eyes as she’d glanced at her husband when I’d said my goodbyes the previous night and know that I cannot go back.
    Before long we draw to a halt outside the Levesque house, where Sophie is waiting for us. There is no sign of Charles but Henry and his nursemaid come to see us off. After five minutes I have to remind Sophie that we’ll miss our boat if