rich scent of a roast cooking. A maid came into the room, holding a large tray with wine and tea and soft cakes on it, which she set on a low table by a sofa plump with pillows. Something in Camille’s tight heart eased.
Duprès smiled at them as if they were his own children. “You must be very tired, mesdames and messieurs. The Marquis de Chandon wrote me a little of your troubles. We’re not free of that madness here, but, nevertheless, think not of it now. You will be very safe.”
“Thank you, monsieur,” Camille said, “for all of this.” The inn seemed very large. Wasn’t it possible that in a far wing, Lazare and Foudriard were already resting? “There are two more in our party. Have they already arrived?”
He shook his head. “If they are coming from Paris, rest assured they will be here soon. And if not,” he added, “we will keep their plates warm for whenever they do arrive.”
And what if that is never? He meant to comfort her, but what could he know of what she was fleeing, or her worry for Lazare? They had only just arrived, she told herself. There was time, still. She did her best to remember how grateful she was for this. They had escaped with their lives.
Not everyone was so lucky.
Once they’d washed, they found their way down complicated staircases and narrow halls to the dining room. Supper was laid on a long table where brass candlesticks crowded between sparkling crystal and plates decorated with blue-and-white peacocks. It had not been that long ago she’d seen real peacocks at Versailles.
But all of that was gone. The palace gardens would soon be overgrown, its yew hedges gone shaggy and feral, thorny vines scrambling from the château’s roofs into its windows. The peacocks flown, Versailles’ magic gone and faded to nothing.
Platters of food flowed from the kitchen as Duprès regaled them with tales of pirates and buried treasure. She should have felt relief, but instead she found it harder and harder to smile, to appreciate Sophie’s animated replies or Rosier’s questions about life on the other side of the Channel. Unfailingly her gaze went to the two empty chairs at the table’s far end. Every now and then, she caught a desperate grief in Chandon’s face she recognized as her own.
After dinner, they rested by the fire. Several hunting dogs came in and lay down, resting their long-eared heads on Rosier’s feet. Herbal tisanes were served along with a plate of chocolates in the shape of ships. When it was time to go to their rooms under the eaves, Sophie asked if she should leave a candle lit in their room, or would Camille be coming up now, too?
She attempted a reassuring smile. “I may sit here instead—it’ll only be a few hours until it’s time to get ready to leave again.”
“You needn’t wait,” Sophie replied firmly. “He will come.”
Chandon was the last to go up, as if he’d been waiting to speak to her alone. “Bonne nuit,” he said, stooping to kiss Camille on the cheek. “Promise me you won’t fret? If anyone can arrive here unscathed by the time we leave in the morning, it’s our handsome boys. Try to sleep instead. It’ll be a rough journey over the sea tomorrow.”
She said nothing, too afraid her voice would crack.
“What a fool I am!” He took from his bag a small parcel, wrapped in brown paper. “In the rush I nearly forgot. This was delivered to Bellefleur, addressed to you, moments before we left. Now might be the perfect time to open it.”
Numbly she wondered why something for her would have been sent to Chandon’s house, and set it next to her on the sofa. On the floor above, she heard her friends saying good night, opening and shutting doors, the floorboards creaking and then fading into quiet. The inn drowsed as the sea wind rattled in the windows. It reminded her of the Hôtel Séguin. It would be missing her, she knew. Searching for her in its rooms. Wondering. Could it know that it had helped save her life, and Lazare’s? That it had shown her who she was? Her throat constricted. The girls would bring it life, but of a different kind. The house would always be waiting for its magician.
Blinking back tears, she picked up the package. As she cracked the wax seals, the paper fell open. Inside lay a small green book that looked as if it