‘Lift your arms, madame.’ Anne-Marie pulled the old petticoat off and slipped the new one on. Jane obeyed each instruction, sometimes gathering the intent from the actions rather than the words, but they managed to proceed with only the occasional bout of laughter born from misinterpretation. Through it all, Anne-Marie was unfailingly gentle of Jane’s sensibilities, and yet firm in not allowing her to speak English.

Forced to use the language thus, even for simple tasks such as getting dressed, Jane began to realize that she knew more words than she had thought. Once dressed, Anne-Marie had her sit as she attended to Jane’s hair. ‘I suggest that we play at conversation. I will pretend to be another guest and plague you with questions.’

‘That seems a good plan.’

Heating an iron in the fire, Anne-Marie began the thankless task of attempting to force Jane’s straight hair into fashionable curls. ‘I will begin with the most obvious questions. Where are you from?’

‘I am from near Dorchester.’ She wrinkled her nose at the smell of heated hair.

Releasing the curl, Anne-Marie took up another section of hair. ‘Have you lived there always?’

‘No. We lived in London these three months past.’

‘What did you do there?’

‘We created a glamural for the Prince Regent.’ To her surprise, Jane realized that since so many of the common terms for glamour were French, she was suddenly possessed of a broader vocabulary than she had hitherto suspected. She chattered happily about the glamural as Anne-Marie worked her way through the rest of Jane’s hair, leaving her with a respectable set of curls.

‘All of that sounds lovely. I am consumed with jealousy that you got to see the Prince Regent.’ Anne-Marie took a tortoiseshell comb out of Jane’s jewellery box and held it up to try the effect.

‘It was on his recommendation that we came. I do not think we could have found passage at this time of year if it were not for his influence.’

Shaking her head, Anne-Marie replaced the comb in the box. ‘That is a surprising kindness.’

‘Do you ever think about returning to England?’

‘No.’ Anne-Marie’s tone was short and took Jane by surprise. ‘I have never lived there, so I can hardly return. France is my home.’

‘Forgive me, that was thoughtlessly asked.’

‘It is nothing.’ Anne-Marie wrinkled her nose and selected a coral ornament, nodding with satisfaction as she pinned it to Jane’s hair. ‘In truth, since Mama chose to stay here, I have always been given to understand that she found France preferable to England.’

‘I imagine your father had some influence on that.’

Anne-Marie’s face darkened for a moment. ‘Papa died in the Revolution. His ideals, I am afraid, were stronger than his judgement.’