It was regarded as one of the most attractive residences on the island, in one of the most temperate situations. Perhaps only the governor’s Plantation House was superior, and Napoleon had not hesitated to request the whole of that. Marchand makes clear in his memoir that his master wanted to occupy the pavilion even before he had seen it. With the Balcombes remaining in the main house, he would inevitably become closely acquainted with this English family. That may well have been his intention all along.

Only after the decision was made did he inspect the little building, walking along the path under the pomegranate trees and up a flight of steps. Betsy wrote that its position, on a grassy eminence with the waterfall splashing into the ravine behind it, pleased him greatly. The interior was a single room, some 20 feet by 15, empty, with a thick layer of dust on the floor. Its windows, one of them broken, lacked shutters and curtains, but looked out to the cascade and a distant view of Diana’s Peak. Some narrow stairs, little better than a ladder, led up to a low loft space. As children, Betsy and Jane had watched from the loft when their parents hosted parties and dances there. Bonaparte announced that he wanted to stay that very night, that he did not care to see Jamestown ever again until the happy day he could leave the wretched island.

The admiral raised ‘the cramped nature of this lodging’. Staying at The Briars’ main house was feasible but the little pavilion was absurd. There were 26 in the French retinue. Where, in that little hut, would they all fit? General Bertrand and his wife, General de Montholon and his, all their various children, their maidservants, General Gourgaud, Count de Las Cases and his son, not to mention a butler, two valets, a footman, a cook, a steward, an usher, a coachman and a groom?! It was impossible! But Napoleon was not to be dissuaded. His people should remain in town at the Porteous lodgings. He had too many people around him altogether; he would welcome time alone. He advised Bertrand to return to Jamestown where his good wife was waiting for him, and Marchand should fetch his campaign bed. On the morrow, Las Cases should come to continue work on the memoirs. The rest of them were to live in town until the execrable Longwood House was ready. ‘The admiral promptly acquiesced to his desire and the grand marshal returned to town alone.’11

Hurried arrangements were under way as Admiral Cockburn and Bertrand made their departure. A captain and two soldiers were appointed as sentries at the front gates. Mrs Balcombe gave instructions to the servants, who bustled between the house and pavilion with duster, broom and bucket.

Meanwhile, their new tenant made a leisurely and apparently favourable inspection of the garden. He noticed Betsy watching him from a wary distance and signalled for chairs to be brought onto the lawn. He sat in one and beckoned to her to seat herself opposite, which she did, she wrote later, with a thumping heart. He asked where she had learned to speak French. She told him they had once had a French servant in England and that it was her favourite subject at school. He wanted to know if she had studied history and geography, and startled her with a test:12 ‘What is the capital of France?’

‘Paris, of course!’

‘D’accord! And of Italy?’

‘Rome.’

‘Of Russia?’

She thought about it and answered: ‘Petersburg now . . . and Moscow formerly.’

‘So what happened to Moscow?’

‘It was burned to the ground.’

He fixed her with severe eyes and demanded: ‘Qui l’a brûlé? Who burned it?’

His expression was so intense she was out of her depth.