It was with guilty relief that Combeferre allowed the conversation to progress, leaving behind his gaffes - even his very presence. Lady Edith, earlier so attentive, now only caught glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye, and Doctor Clarkson looked grim. Combeferre knew that he had betrayed some unspoken contract with the good Doctor, one that would not be easily repaired. And yet, he could not have sat sipping wine, and pretended away the war being waged in his homeland. He would have barely recognized France, if he were to visit it, and yet he still felt an affinity for his country, now suffering and war-torn.

But Sybil- He caught her eye nervously a few times throughout the meal, but never dared linger on it for long. She would understand, wouldn’t she?

The dinner that followed was sumptuous, but Henri found he could barely eat, and he was glad when the plates for the last course were finally taken away.