She mastered the tears that had risen while she spoke, and her eyes held his. It was the strangest thing in his experience of Alix to feel himself seeking the right word in which to justify her mother to her.
“She has special difficulties,” he said slowly. “You see some of them already. You remember what you said to me long ago about her beauty and bravery, and her danger. It was all true. I’ve seen it now myself. And you wanted me to help her. You felt sure that if I knew her I’d want to help her. Well, I do. You must trust us both. For what I have to tell you now is that I can best help her by showing you how you can.”
Alix’s eyes, widened by the unshed tears, gazed at him. “I help her by not being with her?”
“Yes, by not being another difficulty, and the greatest of all.”
“And for how long must I be removed?”
“Until you are old enough to be free.”
“Until I marry?”
“Marry, or get the freedom of the English girl; the right to choose whether you’ll marry or not.”
“But how can I marry if I am in England. Is it to have me marry there that Maman removes me? Because,” said Alix—and her voice, tearless now, dropped to an iron note—“that will never be.”
Poor madame Vervier and her hopes! Giles continued to play her hand as best he could. “You wouldn’t be made to marry in England against your will. You might meet someone you cared for enough. How can you tell?”