‘Quite correct,’ Lady Allendale said. Coming forward with an unhappy smile, she gave Laurence her hands; he bent and kissed her offered cheek. It was paler than it had been, the skin a little dry and papery, and more lined; her hair was quite silver now. She did maintain her smile long, but let it fade, and took his arm, for once she truly needed to, to take a tour around the camp. ‘I hope you are all comfortable; we should be happy to make up beds, inside, for you gentlemen. I am sure room can be found.’

No one answered immediately, and so Jane had to say, ‘We do very well here, ma'am, although I thank you for the hospitality; we sleep with our dragons when we are on the march. Frette, can you manage a chair,’ she added, and Lady Allendale looked at her and then at Laurence, with a bewildered expression.

There was no help for it, of course, and he said, ‘Mother, may I present Admiral Roland, of Excidium; Lady Allendale.’

Jane bowed and offered her hand to shake, Lady Allendale recovered herself enough to accept it with cordiality, and also the folding camp chair which Frette brought from out of Jane's tent and set near the fire, beside another for Jane.

Captain St. Germain was walking up and down the camp, stretching her legs, and had not yet noticed the visitor. ‘Thankee, Frette, I had rather stand; we will be sitting all day tomorrow,’ she declined when he offered her a chair too. She pulled up short upon seeing Lady Allendale. There followed a little awkward silence. Lady Allendale gazed with fascination at Jane and St. Germain, and indeed all of the camp, with far more attention than she had ever paid before to the aviators. She was no fool; Laurence saw her marking out the handful of other female officers: another on Jane's crew, a lieutenant on Berkley's and a few midshipmen and ensigns scattered about.

No one offered any explanation, and of course she did not ask, but politely asked, ‘You are bound for Scotland, then,’.

‘Aye, ma'am,’ Jane said, ‘I hope we do not put you out,’ which proved an admirable beginning to a brief exchange of wine and small conversation, which might be easily brought to a close with no offence on either side.

But Temeraire was now unoccupied, waiting for his dinner to be cooked, and he put in, anxiously, ‘Perhaps you had better come with us, and not stay here. I have just thought of it; Napoleon may come here before we have had a chance to beat him properly.’

‘You cannot be carrying civilians about where ever you like,’ Jane said to him, repressively. ‘A nice job we would do of keeping anyone safe, when it is our duty to go look him out. He may come marching through here by bad luck, but we are sure to meet him sooner or late.’