‘You see now, do you not, Henriette? Why I so wish to preserve this infant within me? I have lost two before this one. The first came away after I permitted him to lie with me.’ Her voice grew tremulous. ‘I . . . cannot allow it again. Not . . . not at present . . . and yet Monsieur d’Orléans is a man of great passions and needs. He is not accustomed to living as if a monk.’ She lowered her eyes and smiled. ‘And there are many ladies who wish to conquer his heart . . . and not return it to me. Like that Morency creature.’ La Buffon raised her brow at me. ‘There are so many of her description, and notwithstanding such invitations, Orléans has been true to me, but I cannot expect his fidelity to endure when I do not perform the role of a mistress, mademoiselle.’ She dropped her gaze once more. ‘In France, among the Bourbons, it has been a tradition for a mistress to hand her lover to a woman whom she wishes to assume her role. One chooses one’s replacement with care. To leave such matters to chance is unwise. It would be an honour to me if you would assume care for Orléans’s needs until I am safely brought to bed and then recovered. It would give me pleasure to know to whose bed he goes and that I remain in possession of his heart. Do you understand that which I beg of you, Henriette?’ She raised her chin.

I continued to hold her gaze, but made no sign or movement.

‘He shall live to rule France. You will see it come to pass, mademoiselle. Of this I am certain, for they talk of it – his supporters. They talk of a constitutional monarch, a king who is ruled by the Assembly. The King and Queen will soon be sent into exile and all the court with them. You will see.’ She grew quite animated, her face beaming with an almost beatific expression. ‘Do not think that I should ever forget your kindness to me, Henriette.’ She reached for my hand. ‘Think what good you will effect, ma petite Anglaise. A good for the nation of France. For liberty, ma chère. For the new Republic and all the change that comes with it . . . and for womankind too, ma soeur.’

I did not venture to move. My mouth parted; my brow creased.