"Very much, I think," she admitted, "that I deduce, but do not know."

He waited, spinning the knife with his fingertip.

"Monceaux is gone, is it not?" she asked quietly.

The sadness in her voice was like a mortal wound to him. "It is a pig farm," he said, his lip curling a little. "Except for the vineyards. They've been honored by Jacobins and royalists alike. A mistress of the duc de Berri now enjoys possession, I believe."

A steady tap of rain beat on the old glass panes. He watched the watery f low of green and brown and gray outside. His mother did not speak.

"I could not bring myself to tell you," he said. He leaned on his elbows and rubbed his hands over his face. "I could not."

She said, "I have only one regret for it. That you never saw it as it was. What belonged to you."

"It never belonged to me. It was yours, and my father's and grandfather's. I wanted it for you. For you and Hélène and Aimée. I wanted you to dance again at Monceaux, those dances that you used to teach us." He shook his head. "It was never mine. It's why Grand-père hated me, because my heart was born between. I was happy here; I loved to come home from school and be with you in this shabby old house. And Callie—my God—" He laughed. "What would he have done to me if he'd known? I don't know where I belong, Maman. But I wanted—ah, I wanted to come back and hand you a golden key, and make it all right again."

"And so you could not come back at all, which makes me hate Monceaux now."

He shrugged. "I should have come. At least after—" He broke off.

"After you fought for Bonaparte?" she asked wisely. "No, not then. Your grand-père would have killed you for certain if he had discovered it. Or you would have made a duel, which would be very shocking—here in such a petit place as… Shelford."

He frowned at her. "You know of that? How?"

She hid her face behind her handkerchief for a moment to cough and then lowered it elegantly. "Your English friend. The officer. Hixson? He came to call on me, to assure me that you were safe."

"Geordie Hixson?" Trev was astonished. "That was damned handsome of him."

"Yes, he said that he was making… calls on the families of his men while he was on leave. He said that you were captured but allowed to go about freely on your honor as a gentleman." She caught her breath. "It was a great comfort to me. But I did not mention it—to your grand-père—of course."

Trev was left without words for a moment. Then he only said: "You see? We were in school together. That's what makes me love the English."