‘You, however, will not secure your future by forming associations among these aristocrats. It would be a cruelty on my part to impede your prospects in such a manner. You must be seen to have your own lodgings. You must demonstrate to the world that you are free of my influence. And should you still wish to follow an independent life, and to wait for the return of your beloved Allenham, you may do so.’ Then, as if to make final her resolution, she knotted together her fingers and laid her hands upon the table. ‘There is one further point upon which I would counsel you.’ Her eyes met mine. ‘Should fortune favour you with an introduction to the Duc d’Orléans, or one near to him, do not be so rash as to dismiss the connection. Never place matters of the heart before the wisdom of the head, ma fille. Allow yourself to be guided by reason alone. To do otherwise almost always proves ruinous.’

I searched her expression. There was not an ounce of levity within it and this, more than anything, impressed upon me the importance of her sentiments. I nodded and gave her my word, wishing above all to secure her affection.

And so this is how I came to live upon the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré in that summer of 1792. Although it saddened me to take my leave of the rue de Miromesnil and the contented existence I had known there, my apartments in the Hôtel Blanquefort proved a most agreeable consolation. They were neither grandiose nor without their comforts. In short, they suited my tastes precisely.

I had the use of a drawing room with silk chairs and sofas the colour of daffodils, as well as a dressing room and a fashionable round bedchamber. Adjoining this was a little mirrored closet which the French liked to call a salle de bains. Although I had heard of such curiosities, it was the first time I had seen a room of its sort, with its white-glazed stove and tub affixed inside a cabinet. There was even an antechamber used for dining, which was connected by a back stair to the kitchens in the court below. This, I was instructed, was a luxury in Paris, for it meant that the dishes laid upon my table would arrive still warm.

In addition to these extravagances, my lodgings were equipped with two chambers and an entresol for the use of my servants. The first of these rooms belonged to Lucy, but the second was to be occupied by a housemaid. Mrs Elliot suggested that this position be filled by Thérèse Bertrand, who might act as ‘a faithful reminder of home’. Into my household also came a cook, Madame Vernet, and her son, Jean, who served as my footman.