I was under no illusion as to the allegiances of those about me. I need not have even learned their stories: that Madame Desenfants and her daughter were returned émigrés; that Madame Crozier had pledged money to some conspirators led by the Marquis de la Rouërie; that elderly Madame de Vollet had attempted to unlawfully sell all of her silver abroad; or that Mesdames Hubert and Fourçon had been sisters of the Benedictine order who had by some miracle survived the prison massacres of September. I understood only that my existence would be one of less discomfort and unhappiness if I courted their good graces. They were royalists and I would not utter a syllable as to whose company I had kept prior to my arrival there.

In my first several days I did not trust a soul about me, no matter how affable her appearance, for I had learned the price of sincerity. I sat alone upon my bed, my head in my hands, awash with sorrows and racked with fears. I knew nothing of the consequences of my arrest and fretted endlessly that I had somehow imperilled Allenham. I had no means of discovering his fate or even that of Mrs Elliot, for to so much as breathe their names would cause them to become suspect. I knew the prisons to be filled with spies and that the guards would listen carefully to all conversation, so I resolved to speak to no one.

I continued in this reserved manner for two, perhaps three days until a box of my belongings arrived along with a note from Lucy. This served to raise my spirits, if only temporarily. I discovered that my apartments in the Hôtel Blanquefort had been sealed. But for this assortment of basic attire and necessaries, which my maid had been directed to assemble, all of my remaining possessions had been confiscated. Furthermore, as my lodgings formally belonged to Madame de Chalmont, who had now been pronounced an émigré, her property and all her furniture had been seized by the Republic. After a formidable inquisition by the guards, Lucy, Madame Vernet and Jean were turned out of my home, but I was relieved to learn that my maid had been taken in by my cook at the home of her sister. As my heart took in this news, I sat and sighed sadly to myself before turning my attention to my portmanteau. No sooner had I begun to rummage through it and inspect what pieces of apparel had been delivered to me than I caught sight of the elderly Madame de Vollet. She advanced towards me with a slow, laboured limp before making a thorough examination of my items through her pair of lorgnettes.

‘Mademoiselle, you must be certain to set aside your finest gown and laced cap,’ she pronounced after a spell. ‘Keep them folded and preserved from the damp and the vermin.’

I regarded her with an indifferent air.