“It’s to be a surprise.” Jacques turned and took the curving pathway to the end of the gardens, then across the tall wild grasses to the forest’s edge. Beatrice followed, holding her skirt so she would not trip, her heart sensing what her mind didn’t want to accept. “You are sure he is here?”

“Yes.”

They walked several more minutes on the flat land then climbed a knoll along which a line of pine trees swayed back and forth. Jacques stopped. “This is the place.”

Beatrice also stopped. Her mouth was dry, her stomach hollow. She nodded, more to herself than Jacques. “He remembered,” she said.

“Remembered what?”

“I told him I would like it to end in a forest, looking down a line of green trees swaying in the wind.”

The two stood listening to the rustling trees. Then Jacques said, “Kneel down.”

“I would have hoped he had the courage to do this himself.”

“If you are prone to prayer, now would be a good time.”

She looked at the ground. “It’s too late for that.” With all her courage she forced her knees to fold and she went down. From the corner of her eye she saw the glint of a long, sharp blade as Jacques removed it from his sleeve. She lowered her head, baring her neck, and clenched her jaw so she would hold her dignity until the end. Sophie, my daughter, I’m sorry my sweet one. If only I –

There was the whisper of metal slicing the winter air, a moment of bright agony. And then there was nothing at all.

There were several gowns tossed over the screen, and Sophie, in her undergarments, studied each one, trying to decide which to wear to the masked ball that evening. The ball was to celebrate her lady Henriette, and the success she’d had in England. Henriette, as weak as she was, had decided to join the festivities. Sophie had helped her dress and was then given leave to prepare herself for the ball.

The door banged open and the screen was knocked over. Fabien stood there, giving Sophie a stare that drove ice water through her veins.

“What are you doing here?” she managed. “Are you looking for my mother?”

Fabien stepped over the fallen screen, kicking gowns out of the way, and picked up a trunk. He dropped it at Sophie’s feet. “I was looking for you. To tell you to leave.”

Sophie stared. “I don’t understand!”

“I think you do. Pack your affairs and get out. You have no place here.”

Sophie’s hands went to her throat. This is impossible! “What…what about my mother? What have you done to her?”

The pitiless expression on Fabien’s face told her the truth. Oh, God! Please no!

“You will be making the journey back to wherever you come from alone. I shall return tomorrow morning. If I find you still here, I shall have you tossed into the gutter.”