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I loathe Madame Bonard and she has plenty of money to buy anything she wants off the black market if she’s in need, but it won’t do to say so.

“If you’re in need of something, Madame, please let me know.”

“As if I’d accept it from you,” she replies, turning away.

I feel as if I’ve been slapped. I turn toward Irene, trying to make sense of it. She’s busy serving casserole already, but there’s a smile on her face that wasn’t there a moment earlier. I never exactly felt that I was among friends here, but it wasn’t like this either.

I was never the enemy until tonight. What changed?

I throw myself into my work, wanting only to get through it and find Edouard so we can talk. He never looks over at us once, however, and he doesn’t approach until the dinner service is winding down, at which point he speaks only to Irene.

“I have to go work on my homily for Sunday mass,” he says. “Do you mind locking up?”

She flushes with pleasure. “No, Father. Of course not.”

“Good evening then, ladies,” he says to all of us, not even glancing my way. “Thank you for your service.”

Stop, I want to cry, wait. But he’s walking away and I stand, impotent, watching him go.

When the food is put away, I go to the coat rack, but am stopped by old Renee Simon.

“I heard what you said to Madame Bonard,” she says. “I’ll take some eggs if you have them to spare. I don’t mind what people say.”

I stiffen. “And what do people say?”

She blinks, startled and clearly wishing she hadn’t uttered it. She waves her hands. “Nothing you need to fret over. Silly talk.”

“Renee,” I whisper, placing my hand on her arm, “please tell me what you’re referring to.”

She flushes. “The council...they met with Edouard today. About you.”

“About me?” I squeak. Did someone see us together? We’ve been so careful, I thought, but we could have been more so.

“They believe you’re spending too much time at the church,” she says with a sigh. “They think you’re conspiring with your people on the outside. You know. One bad seed spoils the lot.”

“My people?” I ask.

“Jews,” she says. “Everyone knows about your mother and your friendship with Jeannette Olatz. Some say you’re trying to seduce Edouard, that you’re trying to poison our minds through his.”

I feel my throat swell with a sob. I’ve known these people my entire life. I can’t believe they’d think for a moment I’d poison anyone, spiritually or otherwise. My conscience pricks a little at the claims about me seducing Edouard, but I ignore it. What matters now, what hurts now, is that he seems to have believed them. Even if he didn’t truly share my feelings, after knowing me for so many years, did he really believe I might be here for nefarious purposes? He kissed me. He came to me, and it was his idea. It was his hand that went up my dress. I didn’t force it there.

I rush to the exit, grabbing my coat and emerging into the biting February wind before it’s on, tears stinging my face as I turn toward home.

I’ve known that people judged us a little for my mother’s faith. I’ve known that some families considered me not good enough for their sons because of it and that there are people in town who don’t want our business.

But I never dreamed that Edouard would believe them. My inappropriateness this morning couldn’t have helped my case but...no. He still should have known better.

As I walk, my anger grows. How could he believe them? And believe them over me. Over what he knows of me. In spite of all the words he said.

I am nearly to the farm before anger stops me in my tracks.

No. I’m not letting him do this. I’m not letting him blame me for something he had an equal part in. Even if he wants nothing to do with me, he will at least hear from my own tongue how desperately wrong he is.

I turn on my heel and head back to town, walking past the church to reach the rectory’s door. I’ve never been to his rooms before, but for years I’ve dreamed of what I might find inside: Edouard at the table eating food I’d made him. Edouard in bed, trying to keep his mind on godly things, and failing at it perhaps. For the longest time – until he kissed me, really – it was that last image that kept me up at night.

All of that is behind me, I swear it. Now I just want to hear it from his own lips, how he believes my Jewish blood has poisoned him.

The door opens within seconds of my knock, and his eyes widen at the sight of me. “Marie,” he says, looking over my shoulder toward the street. Panicked again. “You can’t be here.”