‘Yes, mademoiselle. I accompanied Langlois, Madame Elliot’s porter, to the hotel with a cart. We discovered your maid asleep in the stables keeping watch over your belongings.’

‘And Lucy? Pray, where is she?’ I demanded, greatly anxious for the welfare of my servant.

‘She is presently with Langlois . . . at the Hôtel l’Impératrice.’ The maid then hesitated. ‘When the proprietress learned we had arrived with a cart to remove your boxes, she flew into a rage. By order of my mistress, Langlois has dispatched your debts to Madame Bonet, but . . . it seemed some other dispute had arisen. Langlois ordered that I return immediately with the cart and that he would follow on with your maid once the matter has been resolved.’

For a moment I found myself struck almost dumb at learning of Mrs Elliot’s act of generosity. That a lady who had never before laid eyes upon me, and who scarcely knew me, should fly to my defence so readily disquieted my conscience. My debt to Madame Bonet was no trifling sum and I instantly resolved to make amends.

‘And . . . may I enquire as to your name, so I may apprise your mistress of your kindness to me?’

‘I am Thérèse Bertrand,’ she replied with a quick bob.

As she spoke, my eyes began to survey the small closet room throughout which she had diligently placed my belongings. A black Chinese clothes press on fat gold legs squatted with its doors spread. An assortment of my linens, petticoats and jackets had been tucked into it. My mind immediately went to work tabulating an inventory of that which lay before me: a green watered-silk gown over the back of a chair and, atop it, two muslin gaulle gowns. In an opened trunk, I spotted several overskirts and two redingotes, as well as a scattering of hats and slippers. Much of my attire and many objects of great worth were still absent. I drew in a long, anxious breath.

‘I do hope Lucy arrives soon.’