*Ella*
“We are eating with the family,” Algie says nervously. “ ‘In family’ they call it.”
“En famille,” I correct him.
He sighs, “I suppose that’s the language they speak over in Marburg. I probably won’t understand a word.”
“Actually, that’s French,” I say.
“French? I learned that at Eton.” There’s a pause. “More or less… do you suppose that’s what they speak at the table?”
“I shall translate, if need be,” I tell him, thinking that it’s a good thing I’ve come rather than Anastasia, who doesn’t speak a word of French. Thankfully, I’ve learned the language before my father died. “Do you know anything of the prince’s entourage?”
But Algie knows nothing of his mother’s family and has never, it seems, bothered to inquire.
The meal is served in a delightful room that, although Theodon
