Across the table, Mrs. Ogilvie agreed that Colonel Graeme had done wisely. “But where will she go from here?”

“I’ve not been told,” the monk admitted, “but my father never moves without a plan.” He’d only eaten several bites of bread, and chased them down with a small tumblerful of wine, but now he added, “And he always minds a schedule once he’s set it, which is why I am surprised that he did not arrive ahead of us, and why I do suspect he may be waiting in some other place.”

He looked to Mrs. Ogilvie, who nodded and assured him, “I shall stay with her, till you return.”

He thanked her, and with one hand gave a lightly reassuring stroke of Anna’s bent head as he promised her, “I’ll not be long.”

She kept her head down.

“So,” said Mrs. Ogilvie.

Remembering the nuns’ instruction that it was polite to give her full attention to an adult who was speaking, Anna clutched the little parcel of belongings on her lap with both her hands and raised her chin.

“It has been a good while since I have dined with a young lady.” Mrs. Ogilvie was smiling. While she scooped a spoonful of the broth her light gaze took in Anna’s features, and again the eyebrows arched. “I must confess I am astonished I did not mark the resemblance before now. You are the image of your father. Has anybody told you this?”

“Yes, madam.” Anna’s voice was flat.

“I met him several times at St. Germain, although my husband would have known him rather better,” Mrs. Ogilvie remarked. “I did not know that he had married.” She said nothing for a moment, while she ate, and then her thoughts changed course. “Shall we have more bread?”

It seemed a little odd to Anna that the woman did not simply raise her hand to call the landlord over, but excused herself and went across to speak to him. Odd, too, that having done that, Mrs. Ogilvie should stop again to speak to the two Englishmen, who’d taken their own table near the bar.

Something fluttered deep in Anna’s stomach, making her uneasy. She ignored it to begin with, because Father Graeme trusted Mrs. Ogilvie. He’d said so. And he’d not have left her alone with someone who did not deserve his trust. She told herself that several times, and yet the fluttering continued, the uneasiness not helped when both the men turned round to look at her, then looked away again.

The landlord brought the extra bread, and Anna thanked him in a small voice, and when he enquired if there were something else she needed, she replied, on impulse, “Yes, I need to use the privy, please, sir.”

“Use the…? Ah.” His face cleared, and he gestured to another doorway at the back. “It is just there.”

She thanked him once again, and sidled from the bench with care, her bundle of belongings clasped like armor to her chest. Across the room she saw the landlord pass by Mrs. Ogilvie and tell her something, and then Mrs. Ogilvie looked over with a nod and smiled at Anna in an understanding way. One of the Englishmen rose slowly from the table and began to walk towards the other door. But no one came to follow Anna.