Rosalie and the girls returned from Paris amid a flurry of excitement. The final purchases had been made; the wedding dress that had been packed in tissue paper and boxed for the journey was now hanging in the wardrobe in Clarice’s bedroom. Rosalie sighed when Didier, who had returned with them, came quietly into her parlour to tell her that Madame Barrineau had called and was asking the favour of a few moments’ conversation with her. Suzanne Barrineau was the last person she wanted to see just now but, as Clarice’s future mother-in-law, she was due every courtesy, and when Suzanne was announced, as always she stood to greet her visitor with a smile and ordered some refreshment.
When she heard the purpose of Suzanne’s visit, she smiled wearily and replied, ‘Of course it will be no problem, Suzanne. Any friend of Lucas’s is welcome at the wedding and of course he’ll be seated with your family.’
Suzanne went on to explain at some length the unexpected arrival of Rupert Chalfont, the son of an English ‘milor’, now in Paris and on his way to visit them.
Rosalie hardly heard what she was saying. Suzanne was always a rattle, and Rosalie had other things on her mind. She had recognised from the resentful expression on her housekeeper’s face when she’d got home earlier that Madame Choux was not best pleased with the arrival of Agathe and Annette, but though she knew she needed to smooth her housekeeper’s ruffled feathers, so far she’d had no chance to do so. Neither had she seen the newcomers – she would send for them in due course but had not yet had time. She also needed to speak with Hélène in private to tell her of the new arrivals and explain their presence.
‘So, my dear Rosalie, you see how difficult it would be for the poor man, knowing no one but Lucas…’
Rosalie returned her attention to Suzanne, saying as she poured more coffee and offered the plate of Cook’s ratafia biscuits, ‘Please don’t concern yourself, Suzanne. There will be no problem with the arrangements, I assure you.’
It was a relief when Suzanne rose to go, pleading, ‘So much to do, my dear Rosalie,’ adding as a decided afterthought, ‘as you must have yourself!’
Rosalie agreed that indeed she did, and rang for Didier to show Suzanne out.
While their mother had been engaged with Madame Barrineau, the three girls had been happily settling back into their country home. Though they all enjoyed the occasional visit to Paris, they had always preferred living at Belair, where they were allowed far more freedom. Clarice went upstairs to rest before yet another evening engagement, Louise made herself scarce before her governess, Mademoiselle Corbine, could summon her to the schoolroom, and Hélène decided to go into the drawing room and play the piano. It was as she was crossing the hall that she saw Annette, the bread thief. She stopped in her tracks as Annette emerged from behind the heavy door that separated the kitchen and servants’ area from the main part of the house. She was carrying a pile of ironed sheets that Madame Sauze needed upstairs. She, too, stopped short, almost dropping her load of linen.
‘Annette?’ Hélène stared at her. ‘Is it you?’
‘Yes, Miss Hélène,’ answered Annette carefully.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ Hélène looked perplexed. ‘But what are you doing here?’
‘Taking these sheets upstairs to Madame Sauze to be—’
‘Madame Sauze! Is she here too? What’s going on?’
‘Your mother has employed us both to help out over the busy period of Miss Clarice’s wedding, miss. She said it was going to be a very busy time.’
‘I see,’ said Hélène, but she didn’t. She didn’t see at all. Why hadn’t Maman told her what she’d done? Then she remembered the visit Madame Sauze had made to the Avenue Ste Anne the previous week. Had she come there looking for work? Hélène was at a loss and said lamely, ‘How long have you been here, Annette?’
‘Just five days, miss,’ came the reply.
‘Five days?’ Only a week since Madame Sauze had come to see Maman. This was all very sudden.
‘Excuse me, miss, but I have to take these up to Madame Sauze. She’s waiting for them.’
‘Of course, Annette, sorry.’ Hélène stood aside, and as the other girl stepped onto the stairs she added, ‘But I don’t think you need to call me “miss”, Annette. You never did before.’
‘Yes I must, miss,’ came the firm reply. ‘I’m a housemaid and you’re family. If you’ll excuse me, miss?’ She turned and went up the stairs, watched for a moment by Hélène, left standing in the hall. As Annette reached the top Hélène called up to her, ‘In that case, you should be using the back stairs.’
‘Yes, miss,’ said the bread thief quietly. ‘Thank you. I’ll remember in future.’ And with that she disappeared along the landing.
Not like the bread thief of old, thought Hélène. Not at all like the girl who had stolen her bread and then, later, taken a beating for tripping up Sister Gabrielle, allowing Hélène to make her escape from St Luke’s orphanage all those years ago. That girl wasn’t meek and mild – she’d been rebellious and full of spunk. So what, Hélène wondered, had happened to her to account for the change?
At that moment Didier appeared in the hall and said, ‘Miss Hélène, your mother would like to speak to you in her sitting room.’
And I’d like to speak to her, too, thought Hélène as she replied, ‘Thank you, Didier, I’ll go and see her now.’
Rosalie was pouring herself yet more coffee when Hélène knocked and went into her mother’s private sitting room. It wasn’t a large room, but prettily furnished, with tall windows looking out over the garden, and it was entirely her mother’s domain. No one went into it except by invitation, and Rosalie guarded, jealously, the peace that she found there.
‘You wanted me, Maman?’
‘Yes, sit down, chérie, we need to have a quiet talk. Would you like some coffee?’
Rosalie rang the bell for another cup and a second pot of coffee and waited until they had been brought before she said, ‘I’ve a surprise for you, Hélène.’
‘A surprise? What sort of surprise?’
‘While we were in Paris, you may remember Madame Sauze came to visit me. Well, she was looking for a job. She no longer works at the Clergy House, and nor does her niece.’
‘Her niece?’ echoed Hélène. ‘Who’s that?’ But even as she asked the question she knew the answer. ‘You mean Annette? But she’s not her niece!’
‘No,’ agreed her mother, ‘I know that and so do you, but since they have been working together over the last few years they have become close and Madame Sauze now introduces Annette as her niece; it gives them both a feeling of family. Anyway,’ she went on, ‘the old priest died and the young curate gave them notice. Annette was going to be married anyway, so she was happy enough to leave the house.’
‘Annette’s married?’ asked Hélène, startled.
‘Yes, or at least she was, but her husband died in the flu epidemic soon after, so now she’s a widow.’
‘Oh, poor Annette,’ cried Hélène. ‘How awful!’
‘Yes, it’s very sad for her. Still, what I was going to tell you is that after Madame Sauze came to see me, I decided to employ them both, just over the wedding period to begin with, so you mustn’t be surprised to see them about the house. Agathe Sauze is helping Madame Choux, taking on some of the more mundane housekeeping jobs, and Annette is a general maid-of-all-work.’
‘That explains it,’ exclaimed Hélène. ‘I saw Annette just now and—’
‘You’ve seen her?’ interrupted Rosalie. ‘And did you speak with her?’
‘Yes, of course,’ answered Hélène. ‘Why?’
‘And what did she say?’
‘Nothing much. I was surprised to see her and asked why she was here. She told me you’d just hired her and Madame Sauze to work here over the wedding.’ Hélène gave a slight smile and added, ‘She called me “miss”.’
‘As indeed she should,’ said Rosalie. ‘I know you knew each other as children, but that was long ago. Now the situation is quite different.’ She paused and, looking speculatively at her daughter, said, ‘How did you think she looked?’
Hélène frowned. ‘What do you mean, Maman? How did she look?’
‘I just wondered if you recognised her easily.’
‘Well, yes, she hadn’t changed much. A bit older, of course, and a bit fatter than I remembered, but she looked much as she did before. Why?’
Rosalie shrugged. ‘No reason. You’ve changed as you’ve grown up and I wondered if she’d done the same – if she was different, you know, having been married.’
‘She seemed sad, somehow, but if her husband has died recently that’s to be expected, isn’t it?’
‘Of course,’ agreed her mother, and she got to her feet. ‘Now I must go and get changed for this evening.’ She smiled across at her daughter. ‘After the wedding, when you’re really out, it’ll be your turn to find a husband!’
In her boudoir Rosalie prepared to change into evening dress. She was content with her conversation with Hélène. Clearly Annette had not mentioned her pregnancy, and Hélène had not recognised it for what it was. She would have to know in the end of course, when the baby was born, but the less she knew in the meantime, the better.
It was the next day before Rosalie was able to send for her housekeeper. Madame Choux joined her in the morning room once the breakfast had been cleared away and stood waiting, her face stony, her hands folded across her stomach.
‘Good morning, Madame Choux,’ Rosalie said, looking up from the page she had been writing on. ‘How has everything been since I was away?’
‘Fair to middling, madame,’ replied Madame Choux. ‘We’ve all been preparing for the arrival of Mr Georges and his family. I believe the nursemaid is coming with them. I’ve put a truckle bed into the night nursery so that she will be close to the children.’
‘Good, that’s as it should be. And how have the new servants settled in?’
‘The girl, she’s a good worker, been turning her hand to anything I ask her. Pity she’ll be leaving us so soon, but that baby must be due at any time. Her aunt, that Madame Sauze, has been to the village and arranged with Widow Leclerc for her to live there when her time comes.’
‘That seems a good arrangement,’ said Rosalie. ‘It’s best to be prepared. I knew I could rely on Madame Sauze to organise things.’
‘That’s as may be,’ said Madame Choux darkly, ‘but I won’t need her once Miss Clarice is married.’ She looked Rosalie in the eye and added, ‘I don’t rightly need her now, madame, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘I do mind,’ said Rosalie briskly. ‘Whom I choose to employ is none of your business, and’ – her lips tightened – ‘I choose to employ Madame Sauze.’ There was a moment’s silence as Madame Choux realised she had gone too far and then Rosalie said, ‘I’m glad everything is under control, madame. Please ask Madame Sauze to come and see me straight away.’ She picked up the notebook in which she’d been writing and Madame Choux bobbed a curtsy and left the room.
A few minutes later there was a knock at the door and Agathe came in. Rosalie set aside her writing and said, ‘Good morning, Madame Sauze. How have you settled in?’
‘Well, thank you, madame. Annette and I are very comfortable, and there has been plenty to keep us busy.’
‘I’m sure there has,’ agreed Rosalie. ‘I hear from Madame Choux that you have managed to make arrangements for Annette when her time comes.’
‘Yes, madame. I spoke to Father Bernard at the church and he suggested that Madame Leclerc, who was recently widowed, might be pleased of the company and the extra money.’
Rosalie nodded. ‘I have heard of her,’ she said. ‘I believe she is well known in the village both as a midwife and for laying out the dead.’
‘Indeed, madame. I went to see her and for a small recompense, she is happy to give Annette and the baby a home. We have agreed that the baby should be born in her house, where she would be on hand to help deliver the child. If you agree, madame, I think she should move there immediately after Miss Clarice’s wedding. She can still come to work from there if that’s acceptable to you, until the baby is born.’
‘That sounds a good arrangement,’ Rosalie said, and with that decided, she glanced down at the list in her notebook and asked, ‘And how are the preparations going in the house?’
‘Well, madame. I know you’ll be pleased how much we’ve achieved. The windows still need to be cleaned, but better just before the day. Everything else has been prepared, and with Monsieur Didier back with us to supervise in the butler’s pantry, you can rest assured nothing will be overlooked.’
‘Good.’ Rosalie got to her feet and picked up her notebook. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Agathe; we need someone with sound common sense. I will see Annette later. I believe she and Hélène have already spoken, and I have explained to Hélène about Annette’s husband. She quite understands and, having every sympathy for Annette, will ask her no questions. I want to ensure that there are no upsets before Clarice’s big day.’