she’s not standing there at your side as she does.”
“And here you stand before me without Byron. We are both without the ones we are closest to.”
“Yes, Madame. I suppose we are.”
Madame didn’t speak right away. She didn’t invite him to sit. There was an iciness in her air. It made Pearce uncomfortable.
“Thisbe, is it? A curious name.”
Madame knew she made the young man nervous. She waited a few seconds just to enjoy that feeling of putting someone on edge. At last, she broke. “It’s a pity they don’t teach French history at the Academy. You would know the loyal figures of the court.”
“A loyal figure?” he asked.
“Of course! There was none more loyal. Bright. Comforting. To the end, none more loyal to the queen than her dog.”
He paused. Her answer was unexpected. “Dog,” he said. “She is named for a dog?”
“Not any dog. The queen’s loyal dog,” she answered.
“I’ll not forget that piece of history,” Pearce said.
“I played with Madame’s dog. The royal children and I.”
“You, Madame Guilbert? Madame preserves well.” Pearce was careful to not go too far.
“Monsieur Pearce. A gentleman and a liar! You flatter. That is good! Useful, but wasted on me. I am immune to those charms.”
“In that case, please forgive me, Madame Guilbert,” he said.
“No,” she said straightaway. “I don’t. In fact, it is this quality I call upon.”
Pearce was puzzled and intrigued. If Madame meant to throw him off balance, she had succeeded.
“Do sit down, young Pearce.”
Pearce sat, relieved for this extended invitation, but didn’t relax his guard entirely. He noticed that she offered no refreshment. No tea.
“If I can truly be of service, Madame Guilbert, I am only too happy to oblige.”
She got to the point. “Monsieur Robinson Pearce,” she said, her French accent thick, “I believe you owe the family of Boisvert Chatham a debt.”
He was taken aback, but after a swallow, kept his composure. “Madame Guilbert?”
“We are a distinct society, Monsieur Robinson Pearce.”
“Pearce, please, Madame Guilbert.”
“We maintain tradition. We uphold the values of our society.”
He waited.
“You don’t understand our traditions. How could you? You come from no traditions.”
“Well, Madame—”
She lifted her hand. “If this were true, you would not have allowed Jane to compromise her fortune.”
“Madame?”
“We are alone, Monsieur Robinson Pearce,” she said. “So we will speak truthfully. I saw my grandson get up to flee the pond as soon as the girl began to disrobe, while you lingered.”
He closed his eyes. Guilty. He couldn’t deny it.
“Yes. From the distance I saw everything. Byron sought to defend Jane’s fortune, but I believe you found Jane’s actions and Byron’s attempts to save her fortune amusing.”
His face reddened. If Byron had been there to see it, he might have enjoyed this rare moment of inquisition and conviction. Pearce was hard to put at unease.
“Madame Guilbert, I throw myself on your mercy for your forgiveness. I meant no harm to the young lady. The truth is, I’ve never met anyone as, as, unique as Jane. She doesn’t ruffle.”
“I don’t know your ruffle,” Madame said, “but I know your meaning. I am glad you find her unique, but the Boisvert-Chatham family is injured.”
“But how?” Pearce asked.
Madame shook her head. “This comes with the risk of welcoming outsiders. They don’t understand how society is made. How it must work to maintain order. I speak plainly. No man will have Jane if it’s known that another man has enjoyed her in ways that only her husband should. Clearly, you see that.”
“I promise you, Madame Guilbert. On my honor as a cadet, that I didn’t touch Jane.”
“Of course not,” Madame said matter-of-factly. “Of course you didn’t touch her. But you see, touching isn’t the only injury to her family and her future husband. Think of it, Monsieur Pearce. How will you mix in social circles with a smirk on your face because you have seen her? Her husband will be humiliated, should she find a man to marry her. Here, Monsieur Pearce, the spread of gossip burns a family’s prospects to the ground.”
“Madame Guilbert,” Pearce spoke sincerely, “dear Madame Guilbert, I would never speak a word about Mademoiselle Jane and the pond, and I will do all that I can to make amends.”
“That is expected,” Madame said in the same matter-of-fact tone.
“Tell me what I must do,” he begged.
The sound of his remorse and begging pleased Madame greatly. She felt vital.
“Jane, as you have noticed, is a special, unusual girl,” Madame said. “The influence of her English father has quite confused her. As a friend of her