“I misspoke,” Matilda said. “We are actually taking two ships, one to Dover and then another that departs from Dover.”

Tommie’s brows knit. “I thought we were going to Ports… Ports-something and to America.”

“America is very, very far away. Sailing there can take weeks and costs a lot of money. Do you recall my telling you that England and France are only twenty miles apart?” Matilda injected the question with a brightness at odds with her mood.

“We are going to France? The French are our enemies. The Corsican Monster fought for France.”

I am not arguing international politics with a five-year-old. “We are at peace now, and the French are our friends. Let’s explore the ship, shall we?”

Tommie wrinkled his nose. “It’s not a longboat. I don’t see any dragons.”

Matilda took his hand, picked up her traveling valise, and gave their names to the steward several yards down the pier from the gangplank. Exhaustion dragged at her, because she’d slept barely two winks.

“We will have to imagine the dragon on the prow and a square sail on the mainmast. The inn packed us a nooning, and we’ll be at Dover before nightfall. Do you know, I’ve never set foot on a sailboat before.”

“Tremont said we’re having an adventure. I don’t want to go to France, and I don’t like this adventure very much so far.”

I perishing hate it. “Adventures can be like that. A bit tedious when you’re in the middle of them, but fondly recalled. Shall I teach you how to say something in French?”

“Teach me how to say ‘I miss Tremont, and Arthur, and Tidbit, and the goats, and Charlie, and MacIvey.’”

Matilda paused at the foot of the gangplank and summoned every ounce of courage and determination she possessed. This journey was for the best. The only way to preserve dignity and honor. A remove to Paris was…

Awful.

She started up the incline, keeping a very firm grip on Tommie’s hand. “In French, you would say, ‘Mes amis me manquent.’ I miss my friends.” My friends are lacking to me, literally and more poignantly.

The ship rose and fell at its mooring, and a bitter wind whipped along the river. Tommie clambered onto the deck, where another steward greeted them and took Matilda’s valise.

“This ship stinks worse than our house did.” Tommie had spoken too clearly for the steward not to have heard him.

“The river has an odor,” Matilda said. “The sea is far more fresh. Let’s get out of this wind, shall we?”

They were shown to a tiny stateroom, with two bunks folded up against the wall and two chairs set on either side of a table no larger than a chessboard.