I write in haste, my dearest Henrietta, to inform you of an alteration to my circumstances. I have been instructed that I am to remain here at Paris for the foreseeable time. While the unrest of previous months has subsided, the uncertainty of this nation’s politics renders life precarious, if not perilous. Were it anything but, you might believe that I would not hesitate to summon you here, but as it appears that a war with Austria is imminent, the situation is certain to worsen. I have not the capacity to determine precisely when such an occurrence is likely to transpire, but suffice to say what upheaval may occur in Paris will be visited likewise upon Brussels. It is therefore that I write to urge you, my angel, to quit Brussels and remove yourself to London. I have ordered my effects currently at the Hôtel Duplessis to be transported from Zeebrugge to Dover upon the Marchmont Tuesday next. I very much wish you to make your passage back to England upon this vessel and have made arrangements for you to be received upon it by Captain Steele. I shall not rest soundly until I am certain of your safe arrival in England, and then shall not enjoy a moment’s contentment until the occasion of our next reunion. Until that time, I would beg you not to fear for me nor question the constancy of he who ever signs himself as your adoring,

G.W.A.

Allenham’s news was so unexpected I felt a curious chill begin to spread from the centre of my breast. A great many thoughts began to tumble through my clouded head, yet I could fix upon none of them. Was Allenham in some distress? Why, the letter seemed to suggest it. What intelligence did he withhold from me? The more I allowed my mind to contemplate these possibilities, the more vexed and agitated I grew. What lay between his lines, I could not fathom, no matter how many times I read through them. He affirmed that neither Paris nor Brussels offered me a place of safety, but London . . . London. My heart seemed to contract at the mere consideration of it. After liberating myself from the grip of a life I abhorred, an existence passed entirely in designing schemes for my escape, I wished never to return there again. For a moment, I imagined what it would be to appear once more in that city of my birth, to take up again the false mask of gaiety, to be made to wear like an old discarded gown a manner of life which I had forsworn. It sickened me.