The seaside, where it had rained only yesterday, was now cloudless beneath a vast blue sky, with seagulls wheeling overhead.
What should have been a lovely view took on a different atmosphere because of the soldiers standing at the door. They reminded Georgiana of the gendarmes who had come to make arrests.
"Good morning." The British soldier who had raced Georgiana greeted her in English with a smile.
Instinctively, she glanced back at the farmhouse. Bonaparte had not come out yet. Then she looked at him again.
"Good morning," she replied in English as well.
"You never expected there would be a day like this, did you?" the British soldier said with a grin.
"I certainly didn't." Her face remained expressionless, because the "last time" Napoleon had been escorted by the British Navy had been after his abdication, on his way to Elba and Saint Helena as a prisoner—or perhaps on his way back to Paris as a corpse.
"You needn't worry. There's no one like Sidney Smith here," the soldier said dryly. "If we fire our cannons, the French Navy and Dutch Navy nearby will open fire immediately."
"Thank you for the reassurance." Georgiana gave him a false smile.
"And there's a reporter from The Times. You met him last night," the soldier continued.
Georgiana thought for a moment, then remembered. "You mean Mr. Mori?"
The soldier pursed his lips, as if reluctant to say any more.
"Madam." Matilda carried Georgiana's suitcase. "Let's get in the carriage and wait."
Georgiana nodded to him, then climbed into the carriage with Fiegel's support. The others busied themselves tying her luggage to the back of the carriage. Their movements made it sway gently, as though she were sitting in a boat rocking on rippling water.
She had not expected Napoleon to agree.