Kit laid his hand along the curve of her head; with his other hand, he traced the lines and dents of the ring on her finger. He smelled of pipe tobacco, of brandy, of lovemaking, of Kit. He whispered something into her hair.
“What’s that?” she whispered. “I can’t hear you.”
So he said it louder, just enough that she could hear him before the cold air swallowed the words.
“Swans, you know, they mate for life.”
Some hours later, a hand grasped Daisy’s shoulder and shook her awake.
“It’s time,” said Grandmère.
They dressed quickly, without sound. Max was downstairs, helping the children button their coats. Daisy’s fingers were so cold, she couldn’t fasten her blouse, so Grandmère did it for her while Kit splashed water on his face from the basin in the corner.
“Our contact is waiting at the safe house on rue Rossini, near the Opéra,” said Grandmère. “Monsieur Legrand, you will proceed ahead as we agreed, to ensure the security of the location. Daisy, you will follow in half an hour. Von Sternburg has offered to drive me and the children to the rendezvous at—”
From the corner, Kit swore.
“Enough,” said Grandmère. “I assure you, he would rather die than see any harm come to them.”
“I don’t doubt it. He’s got some strange fascination with Daisy.”
“Don’t trouble yourself about it, young man. Only thank God that he does. Now put on your jacket and get out of here, do you hear me? There isn’t a moment to lose. Everyone’s on edge.”
Kit grabbed his jacket from the floor and put it on. Before going down the stairs, he turned to Daisy, took her by the arms, and kissed her deeply, right there in front of Grandmère.
“Remember what I said,” he told her, staring straight into her eyes.
“I’ll remember.”
Down he went, swinging through the hatchway instead of bothering with the stairs, as if the floor had swallowed him up. The last hair of him disappeared from view, and Daisy thought she couldn’t breathe. She sat on the bed. A wave of nausea overtook her.
“What’s the matter?” said Grandmère. “Is it the sickness?”
“A little. It passes quickly.”
“Not for long. It’s good we’re getting you out of Paris. Your mother had a terrible time with you.”
“The invincible demoiselle? Troubled by morning sickness?”
“My God, it was awful.”
They listened to the gruff voices downstairs, Kit saying goodbye to the children, the door moving softly. Daisy pressed the ring into the flesh of her finger. It was too big, of course. She would have to wear it around her neck or something. The walls shuddered a little, as Kit slipped out through the front door and closed it behind him and was gone.
There wasn’t much to pack. Grandmère had managed to bring out a few clothes from the apartment, before the police came; enough to provide them with a change or two, but not to arouse immediate suspicion. Everything fit inside a single carpetbag. Madeleine and Olivier sat sleepily on the chairs. Max checked his watch.
“How much longer?” asked Daisy. The talisman sat inside the inner pocket of her jacket, heavy and enormous in its silk cloth. It bumped against her ribs whenever she moved. She hated it; she wanted it gone. She wanted to be outside Paris, fleeing Paris with Kit, but that was impossible. She must go to Switzerland first. She would go to Switzerland with the children and Grandmère, she would have the baby there, Kit’s baby, safe and sound, and then . . . and then . . . what?
She still felt unwell. She leaned against the table and stared at the floor and tried to breathe. Max frowned at her.
“Everything is well?” he asked, and before Daisy could say anything, Grandmère replied in her usual curt way.
“She’s going to have a baby, that’s all.”
The children were so sleepy, they didn’t hear. But Max did.
“She’s what?”
“Shh! The children,” said Daisy.
Max looked at Grandmère, and Grandmère made some motion with her hand to her stomach. Max said something in German, under his breath, and tore a hand through his hair.
“This is madness,” he said. “She’s in grave danger already, and now this.”
Grandmère shrugged. “It can’t be helped. We all have a burden to bear, lieutenant colonel, and we women have borne ours throughout history, without the men taking much notice of it.”