At that moment, Thérèse entered the room bearing a tea tray and a kettle. However, it was only as she rested it on the table beside Madame de Flaghac that I noticed a small box and a letter perched upon it.

The old woman’s black-painted eyebrows instantly rose into two intrigued arches.

‘Why, mademoiselle,’ she breathed, ‘it seems you have received a gift from one of your admirers!’

I laid down my pencil and walked directly to where they sat. It was all I could do to prevent the meddlesome Flaghac from pouncing upon the items herself. I rubbed the charcoal from my hands and examined the sealed packet and box of tooled Morocco leather. The script was unfamiliar to me, as was the seal, which bore no indication of the sender beyond a laurel wreath and the inscription ‘Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité’.

‘Who delivered these?’ I enquired of Thérèse, who had turned to quit the room. She paused at the door.

‘I am afraid I know not, mademoiselle. It was a boy. A messenger.’

I studied the objects again.

‘You will never know whence they came if you do not open them, ma chère,’ urged an impatient Madame de Flaghac.

At her behest, I broke the seal.

‘Read it aloud, child, or I am likely to die away in a fit of anxiety!’ my patroness commanded.

I had not anticipated what I found within. I dare say neither had Madame de Flaghac.

‘Ma chère mademoiselle,’ its author began.

As we have never enjoyed the good fortune of a regular introduction, I would beg you forgive me for the liberty I now take in addressing you.

You must know, chère mademoiselle, that you are much talked of amongst the officers at Valenciennes, who are most curious to make the acquaintance of this pretty English femme peintre. I am equally so, and would be greatly flattered should you consent to take my likeness.

I am presently at La Volière, a house I have taken near to Valenciennes, and should you agree to my commission, it would please me to dispatch my coach to you and arrange the necessary passport for your travels.

Likewise, it would do me a great honour to have your company at dinner Friday next, when Monsieur d’Orléans will be in attendance. Upon that occasion, you might wish to wear the enclosed gift. Until then, I shall remain your most impatient,

A. de Buffon

Madame de Flaghac sucked in her breath with such vigour that I feared she might indeed fall into a faint.

‘How remarkable! La Buffon means to court you.’ She exhaled in one. Her eyes widened. ‘Why, she is scheming something. It is certain. There is some design at work here. You must consider it closely, child,’ she babbled frantically. ‘Ah, but Orléans. She wishes you to make his acquaintance. What will you do? How will you respond, ma chère?’