‘You say “if he were a nobleman.”’ Jane took a breath, and asked forgiveness of Vincent for revealing his secret. ‘Then allow me to let you know that David Vincent is an assumed name. My husband is the Honourable Vincent Hamilton, third son of the Earl of Verbury.’

Mr. Gilman’s face twisted in sympathy. ‘Mrs. Vincent, that changes nothing. He is here as David Vincent. His papers say David Vincent. To suddenly treat him as Vincent Hamilton would, again, single him out for unwanted attention. If his father were to ransom him, then that would be different, but I can offer no direct aid. The best I might do is send a dispatch to the Earl on your behalf.’

Given what she knew of the relations between Vincent and his father, she expected a chilly reception at best, but deemed any effort worthwhile, no matter how small the chance for reward. ‘Thank you.’

He took her hands gently. ‘Take a ship for England. The best thing you can do for your husband is to reassure him that you are safe.’

Jane could not do that. She would not abandon him. ‘I cannot. But if I might borrow paper and a pen, I will trouble you for but a short time longer before I return to Binché.’

He leaned forward, placing one hand on the table before her in entreaty. ‘Please do not go back. Consider your child.’

‘I am considering my child, but I have a duty to my husband, and until I can find someone willing to help him, it falls to me.’ She derived a certain bitter satisfaction from seeing him wince.

‘Can I say nothing to dissuade you?’

‘No.’

‘Very well.’ He rang for a servant and gave instructions to show Jane to his study so she might write her letters in privacy. ‘Allow me to at least offer you some funds. Transportation to Binché will not be easy to come by. Everyone is fleeing to Antwerp.’

Jane stood, brushing the folds out of her pelisse. ‘Thank you. That would be very kind.’

With strained courtesy, they took their leave of each other.

As Jane was led to the study, they passed the open door of the parlour where Vincent had spent so many hours. Begging leave, Jane stepped inside to see the glamural. Where once there had been a single lamb, the flocks she had suggested now gambolled. She could now conceive the expanse of hillside as a map, with the stream representing the border between France and the Netherlands. The whole of the hillside below the stream was covered with lambs, all moving with purpose toward the top of the hill. It was quite lovely. Even for something which served a practical purpose, Vincent had rendered each lamb with individual care.

Jane shuddered and returned to the hall, and thence to the study where she wrote two letters, one to the Right Honorable The Earl of Verbury, and the other to Skiffy.