‘It does not matter one jot that you cannot sing, mademoiselle, so long as you are present. We can pretend you have taken ill . . . that you have a fever . . . you are faint. Yes, that will suffice . . .’ he rambled.

‘But, I cannot, monsieur, I am to call upon my friend at Meudon—’

‘Damn your friend!’ he thundered. ‘What of my sister and Monsieur LeRoy? Their infant son? What of them, eh? Oh, what trouble that cursed Égalité has brought upon me with his whores. It is ever the same with him. I knew I should never have accepted to undertake such a thing as . . . as this!’ he said with a disgusted gesture of his hand to me.

I carefully considered the insult I had been dealt and raised my chin.

‘Monsieur,’ said I in a voice calm and sober, ‘I would have you know that I owe my life to the lady to whom I pay this call. She has already suffered much at the hands of these soldiers who you fear will harass your brother LeRoy and your sister. I have but one opportunity of seeing to her welfare before she departs for England, and if you deprive me of that obligation, you will create a further injustice in your attempt to prevent one.’

Valentin examined me through one eye, as if measuring the reason within my words. He sniffed.

‘No. You will come to Sèvres.’

I locked my gaze upon his. This cruel imposition I would not bear, not in light of my scene with Madame de Buffon. I was absolutely determined that I had not endured the agony of that confrontation with her to be carried to Sèvres and away from a resolution to my troubles. Others had shackled me against my will on so many occasions and I would not tolerate one more such inconvenience.

‘No, monsieur, I will not stand for it. I will not! If you do not take me to Meudon as promised I shall go there on foot,’ I commanded.

Valentin rolled his eyes heavenward, as if he were shrugging off the tearful demands of one of his daughters. How his disregard provoked me. In a storm of a huff, I moved to take down the window and call to the coachman, but Valentin sprang to intercede. He took hold of me by the shoulders and pulled me back with all of his strength.

‘No!’ I cried out. ‘Let hold of me! Free me at once, I say! Coachman! Coachman! Arrêtez-vous!’ I howled as I tussled with Valentin. The entire carriage shook with my endeavours to free myself from this scoundrel’s grasp, while the demoiselles Valentin wailed at the horrific spectacle of their beloved father manhandling a defenceless lady.