She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. And this is not France, you understand. But, Gerald, do you believe there is a secret passage indeed?’ ‘Well, we covered every inch of the house and grounds, and I swear she never left that room by way of the door. Of course Nicholas was bound to give her a French name. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur.
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