The crowd was dense at the foot of the mountain, singing raucous versions of the hymn of the Supreme Being and ‘Ça Ira’, their cockades pinned jauntily to their lapels and hats. Ada stopped at the base of the mountain. She could see figures dotted about it, but she couldn’t make anyone out.

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ barked the duc. ‘Is it a joke?’

He tried to settle the brim of his hat lower and slouched. Ada reflexively touched her hatpin, feeling the wind tug at the wide brim.

‘No. I told you, this is the meeting.’

‘Are you mad? Here?’

‘Why not? Half of Paris is here, what better place to be lost in the crowd?’

The duc pursed his lips. ‘Clever.’

Ada folded her hands in front of her again. ‘Yes, we are.’

Now, they had to prove it.

5

At the Top of the Mountain

‘How do you do?’

Robespierre. President of National Convention, member of the powerful Committee of Public Safety and architect of the Terror that had murdered her parents.

Camille held out her hand, hoping it wasn’t too clammy. Robespierre glanced at it, then briefly inclined his head. Camille clasped her hand behind her back. Olympe dropped a curtsey then slid as far behind Camille as she could manage.

‘A strange get-up for … a lady, citoyenne,’ he said, regarding her trousers and short jacket.

Molyneux gave her a pained look. ‘I had rather hoped you’d wear that lovely dress from dinner. I know you ladies worry about day dresses and evening dresses but trousers are hardly the solution, I’d have thought.’

‘And yet here I am in trousers.’

As usual, Camille found herself speaking before thinking, despite the knot of anxiety weighing down on her. Giving Molyneux cheek was one thing, but Robespierre?

‘Citoyenne Laroche has done a great service to the Republic,’ cut in Molyneux. ‘Returning a most valuable resource to us. A true daughter of the Revolution, raised in the greatest circles of free thought, and now living up to her pedigree—’

‘I only hope I don’t live up to my parents’ legacy too closely,’ she said. ‘After all, they were both executed as traitors – traitors according to your Tribunal, at least. I’m not entirely sure everyone agrees with your Tribunal.’

Molyneux hastily cleared his throat over the end of her sentence. Camille smiled blandly. Robespierre was losing interest in the conversation, observing his gathered people spread around the mountain.

‘The child always strives to improve upon the parent, my dear,’ said Molyneux. ‘Each generation learns and develops and pushes the great undertaking of human progress.’

Robespierre took out a fine linen handkerchief and blew his nose.

Molyneux tried to usher Olympe forwards, but she pressed closer to Camille, twisting her fingers into the loose hem of Camille’s shirt.

‘After all, Citoyenne Laroche has returned the key to our future into safe hands.’

Robespierre glanced at Olympe. ‘Is this the experiment you mentioned?’