By mutual consent, Jane and Vincent did not share their theory with M. Chastain, though each for different reasons. Jane feared that it would fail, and did not wish to appear the fool. Vincent, sure it would succeed, wanted to work out the technique and present it as fait accompli to his friend. Jane could not truly begrudge him this small professional competition, as it was not that far from her heart, either. This decision, though, hampered their ability to enlist his aid in a search for a local glassblower who had the requisite skills. Every event they had to attend, even those intended for pleasure, tried Jane’s patience and seemed an insurmountable obstacle.

On the day following Jane’s revelation, their attention was taken up by preparations for a dinner party that Mme Chastain was throwing in their honour. All the first families of Binché were to attend, and Chastain’s students were pulled away from their studies to strip down the overwrought glamour in the hall and replace it with a more decorous glamural.

Upon learning of the dinner, the first thought to come to Jane’s mind was of how she could possibly survive an evening in which only French was spoken. When Anne-Marie came to help Jane dress, she confessed her fears to the maid and begged for her help. ‘I am only comfortable speaking with children, and that will hardly suffice tonight.’

‘Never fear. I have seen the seating plan. Mme Chastain has you paired with Colonel de Bodard, who speaks competent English, having been an émigré during the Revolution. He and M. Chastain should keep you tolerably occupied during dinner, though the conversation will tend toward war recollections.’ She opened the wardrobe. ‘What shall you wear tonight?’

‘The primrose with the demi-train.’ Jane began pulling pins from the muslin frock she had on. ‘War talk is sure to be an improvement over hunters. At any rate, that is such a relief. I do dislike forcing others to speak in English for my benefit. My comprehension has improved in just the short span since our arrival, but I despair of my speech ever being fit for company.’

Anne-Marie laid the dress on the bed and took a delicate bodiced petticoat from the bureau. ‘Madame, you do not need to fret. My mother never became fluent in her adopted language, and yet made herself well understood. No one will expect you to speak without error.’ Switching languages, she said, ‘And now, I will speak to you only in French. You must answer me so as well.’

Choosing the easiest answer en français, Jane said, ‘Yes.’ After a moment, she added, ‘Thank you,’ and felt her vocabulary exhausted.