‘From the very day you came to me and placed yourself under my protection you clearly expressed a wish to lead an independent life. Your jewels: they were the means by which you hoped to secure your future. I take it that you are in possession of no other fortune?’

At the mention of my tragedy, I felt the tears begin to pool once more.

‘No,’ I said.

‘Then what manner of friend would I be to permit a woman of our kind to suffer such a calamity? In London, it is not uncommon for subscriptions to be raised for a frail sister who has found herself beset by tragedy. If I am not mistaken I recall that your mother was once released from the Fleet on account of a sum collected by her friends.’ She stroked my hand as she spoke. ‘I cannot promise it will be a large amount, nor do I think it will adequately replace what was lost to you, but I hope that it will offer you some solace. Until that time, you need not trouble yourself as to the expenses of living. It would please me if you would accept my invitation to remain here as a member of my household until you see fit to quit it.’

I opened my eyes. Through the blur of my tears she appeared especially saint-like. Her sharp features and pronounced cheeks softened into an indistinct oval of warm flesh tones and dark hair.

I did not much care for the word charity. She had not spoken it directly, but nevertheless, this is what it was. It humbled me, it embarrassed me, but I could not think how else I might survive. I reached for both of her hands and pressed them with gratitude. I could not bring myself to say more, for my overbearing pride would not permit me.

‘My dear, you cannot lie abed until you waste into nothing.’ She smiled and sighed. ‘Might I persuade you to accompany me to the Palais-Royal this morning? I am without a companion and . . . I thought you might wish to admire the shops and the spectacle there. Have you never been?’

I shook my head.

‘Ah!’ She tutted. ‘That anyone might come to Paris and not have seen it. It is a wonder. You will have never seen anything so diverting in all your life. Say you will accompany me, my dear.’

I was in no mood for amusements but I could scarcely refuse.

‘Yes.’ I tried a smile. ‘I should like that very much.’

Of course, I had heard much about the colonnades and gardens of the Palais-Royal long before I had ever set foot in France. I had studied the engravings of it in a number of books and heard gentlemen who had visited Paris rave of its delights.