“The thought occurred to me. Including her in a party to visit Versailles hardly constitutes a declaration of interest, but the letter suggests that he wishes me to know his situation. He writes that for the moment, he will be in mourning—which might go on for some time in an aristocratic family like that. He also has to decide whether to resign his commission and take over the running of the family estate—to settle down in the country, as he puts it—or to continue his military career.”

“If he settles down, he’ll want a wife. If not, he may stay single.”

“Ah. You think so. That’s how I read it as well.”

“Jules, he has committed himself to nothing. He merely indicates that Marie should wait and see what, if anything, he decides to do. I think it’s arrogant.”

“You’re a little harsh. He is risking that Marie could marry someone else in the meantime. I think he is quite honest. The poor fellow’s not sure what to do.”

“You would say that. You’re a man.”

“Well, we shall have to wait and see. I am writing to him at once to express my condolences. His father was a good fellow. But this brings me back to Marie. I have a small problem, and I need your help.”

“Ask it.”

“James Fox, the lawyer. He’s being very helpful about this trouble with Marc. He may have found a position for the girl, and a couple to adopt the baby. Both in England. Well out of the way.”

“Excellent. He seems discreet.”

“Entirely. He’s a good man. He’s proposing to include Marie and Marc in a little cultural expedition, like the one de Cygne organized to Versailles.”

“Do you object?”

“Not in the least. Whether de Cygne will want to join them now seems unlikely. But I need a chaperone for Marie.”

“Isn’t Marc going? He was her chaperone at Versailles.”

“That was different. At that time, neither de Cygne nor Fox had any idea about the scandal. But now Fox does, and I expect the American may know too. It will lower our entire family in their eyes to think I’d send Marie out with such an unfit person as chaperone.”

“Has Marie herself any idea about Marc’s little problem?”

“Of course not. Even Marc would not tell her, I am certain.”

“Of course not. As you say.” Éloïse sighed. “Why is it, my dear brother, that people of our class bring up their young women in such complete ignorance until they are married? Don’t you find it absurd?”

“Perhaps. But you know the rules. If I don’t bring her up that way, she won’t find a husband. At least, not one we’d want. She must be pure.”

“One can be pure without being ignorant.”

“That has never been proved,” her brother answered, wryly.