Sophie flinched. "She is a dust-mote. Everyone knows that except you. You, Eliza, the late Sophie Charlotte, and I—the women who walk in the garden—are to George Louis like some witch-coven. He is appalled that his son and heir is comfortable among us, and shares intelligence with us. For this reason he will never give George Augustus, and you, leave to move to England. He may use this as an excuse—" and she held up the letter so that many collected raindrops, black with dissolved abuse, tumbled down over the Queen of England’s signature "—but you must never be deceived."