‘So I see.’ Upon further inspection of the room, it was clear that Anne-Marie had been making a thorough examination of its contents. ‘I had thought to pack your things and send them on to you.’

Again, Jane said, ‘I see.’ She set the candle on the nearest table and shut the door, twisting the key set in the lock, then removing it. ‘Perhaps you might tell me where my husband is.’

‘It is horrible, madame. You must be so distraught.’

‘I am, and you would be well advised to remember that.’ Jane’s fingers clenched the handle of the small travel case she carried. Anne-Marie’s eyes locked on it. ‘Now, I ask again, where is my husband?’

In a mockery of innocence, Anne-Marie’s hand rose to her chest. ‘How can you think that I should know?’

‘Do you really require me to enumerate the reasons? Only look at yourself in the mirror and tell me how you acquired that bruise.’ Jane’s ire was up. She stalked farther into the room. ‘I am well aware that you have been spying on us. All I require now is for you to tell me where Lieutenant Segal has taken my husband.’

Anne-Marie gaped. ‘But, madame, you are mistaken. Spying? No. This is your distress speaking.’

‘That I am distressed does not lessen my ability to reason.’ She pointed at the clothes laid over the sofa. ‘Am I to suppose that you are here to pack my things without the aid of trunks? Am I to understand that the bumblebee pendant you wear represents something other than loyalty to Napoleon? Am I to believe that your relations with Lieutenant Segal mean nothing? No, no, and no. Understand me, Mademoiselle: I am with child, and you have taken my husband.’

‘But I did not. I did nothing!’ Anne-Marie edged toward the door.

Jane stood her ground. ‘Do you think Napoleon will release Vincent when he is done with him? I think he will not. I think he will use him up. Tell me. How was it to grow up without a father? I wish to know, since that is the position you have placed my child in.’

Crumbling, Anne-Marie sank into the chair by the desk. ‘I swear to you, I did not know they would take him when I told Etienne – Lieutenant Segal – about the Sphère Obscurcie. Had I known, I would never have done it.’

‘And now you do.’ Jane could feel no pity for the girl.

Anne-Marie stared at her hands as if wondering what to make of them. ‘I cannot weave the Sphère, not as M. Vincent describes it. I think that is why Lieutenant Segal took him.’

Jane’s neck throbbed with tension.

‘They are at a farm just south of Quatre Bras. Gemioncourt.’