All this time Blanche clung to his arm, lips pinched together and expression so curdled that it would turn sweet milk to sour.

He came to Henri last of all.

“I am sorry to see you leaving, Son. But I know you must go. You were never ours, only a gift we held for a time until it was reclaimed.”

At last, what calm had sustained him shattered. Alain could not speak as he embraced the man who had raised him. Blanche began to wail.

“No! No! I won’t let you go!”

Henri looked both amused and annoyed, as they all did when dealing with Blanche. “You’ll have a hard time scraping that barnacle off.”

“Perhaps.” Alain did not try to dislodge her, although the others came swarming to scold at her and tug at her. “Perhaps best not to,” he said, which made them all regard him in surprise.

“What do you mean?” Aunt Bel asked.

Julien was flushed, looking ashamed, and Agnes rolled her eyes in disgust.

“She doesn’t thrive,” said Alain. “She’s like a tree growing all twisted, and not straight. Let me take her with me as far as Lavas Holding.”

“Who will care for her?” demanded Agnes. “Who would show kindness to a creature as unlikable as she is?”

“They’d as like turn her out with the chickens as keep her in the house,” said Stancy. “Poor mite.” She looked at Julien, who only ducked his head. “If you’d speak up for her more, Jul, and scold her when she’s deserved it, then she might not be what she is.”

“No! I won’t let you leave!” Blanche shrieked, too caught up in her tantrum to listen.

“I can see that she is taken care of.”

“I don’t like it,” said Aunt Bel. “Lavas Holding hasn’t enough to take in young folk for their year of service, the chatelaine said so herself. I won’t have it said I turned out my own grandchild and sent her to scratch with the chickens.”

“Do you trust me, Aunt Bel?”

“Well, truly, lad, I do.”

“Let me see what can be made of her in fresh soil.” That they none of them liked the child made them too ashamed to agree. “Blanche! Hush!”

She quieted, but kept her arms locked around his waist. Tears streaked her dirty face as she looked first up at him and then at the others.

Aunt Bel looked at each member of her family in turn, but they only frowned or shrugged. “Very well, Alain. It may be for the best.”

“What for the best?” muttered Blanche, with a distrusting sniff.

“You will come with me as far as Lavas Holding,” he said to her, “as long as you behave and do exactly as I say. Which you will.”

The words stunned her. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and frowned around it.

“But she’s no clothing, nothing. I’ll not send a pauper—!”

“It will be well, Aunt Bel. Best we go now, and let it be swift. The chatelaine is packing up.”