Rupert presented himself at Belair at exactly twelve noon and was greeted by Didier, who said, ‘Monsieur St Clair is expecting you, sir,’ took his hat and gloves and escorted him to Emile’s private study.
He knocked and opened the door, announcing, ‘Monsieur Chalfont.’
Emile, who had been standing beside a large flat-topped desk studying the papers spread out upon it, turned and greeted Rupert with a smile and an extended hand.
‘Good day, m’sieur, I trust I see you well.’
‘Very well, thank you, sir,’ Rupert replied.
‘May I offer you a glass of something? Wine? Brandy?’
‘No, I thank you, sir.’
Emile nodded to Didier, who had been hovering in the doorway. ‘That’ll be all, Didier.’
As the door closed behind the butler, Emile took a seat on a chair by the open window and indicated another to Rupert.
Rupert sat down and Emile said, ‘Well, Monsieur Chalfont, how may I help you?’
Rupert had tried out several openings in his room that morning, but now he was sitting opposite Emile, somehow the prepared words deserted him. He stood up again and took a couple of paces across the room before turning back and saying, ‘I know we are only recently acquainted, m’sieur, but I have come to ask if I may pay my addresses to Mademoiselle Hélène.’ There! It was said.
Emile looked startled. ‘Hélène?’ he said. ‘But she’s only a child. Only just out of the schoolroom.’
‘Only just out of the schoolroom,’ agreed Rupert, ‘but surely no longer a child.’
‘Perhaps.’ Emile was getting over his immediate surprise. ‘But she is still very young, scarcely ready for marriage – and I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that, with respect, we know nothing of you or your family. You are a foreigner, an Englishman, unknown to us all.’
‘I admit to all of those things,’ Rupert said, a touch ruefully, ‘but surely they can all be addressed. I can answer any questions you would like to ask. May I tell you straight away that my father, Sir Philip Chalfont, is a baronet. The title is hereditary and one day—’
‘You will inherit it?’ interrupted Emile.
‘No, sir. My brother Justin will inherit; I am the younger by two hours. But one day I shall come into an inheritance on my mother’s side. In the meantime I am well enough supplied to support a wife and an establishment of my own. If your daughter accepted my suit, she would be well provided for.’
Emile looked at Rupert with great suspicion. ‘No doubt somebody has told you that on her marriage Hélène will inherit an annuity from her maternal grandmother. Perhaps it is this that has made you dare to ask for her hand.’
Rupert looked Emile firmly in the eye and said, ‘It has been mentioned to me, and I am sure that it is common knowledge hereabouts, but at present I am not asking for your daughter’s hand. I am only asking your permission to address her, so that we may become properly acquainted, and I hope eventually come to an understanding. Should that happen and we became engaged to be married, I should have no interest in Hélène’s money. I give you my word, it will be hers and hers alone to do with as she wishes.’
‘So you say now,’ remarked Emile.
‘So I say now, and so I shall say then.’
Having his given word doubted gave Rupert’s tone a coolness that was not lost on Emile, who took a metaphorical step back, saying, ‘I don’t doubt your intention, sir, but this is all too quick.’
‘Which is why I am asking you if I may come and visit Hélène, become her friend, let her get to know me before I ask for her hand. I would not want an unwilling bride.’
‘And you will not have one,’ Emile said sharply. Then he sighed and said, ‘Do sit down again, m’sieur, and let us speak man to man.’
Rupert did as he was asked, sitting back into the chair opposite Emile.
‘You must look at things from a father’s point of view,’ Emile said. ‘You are a man of the world, you must be at least thirty and my daughter is only seventeen. What does she know of men and marriage? She is hardly out into society, has had little chance of meeting other gentlemen. She will remain here at Belair in the care of her family, and when a suitable man asks for her, then I shall consider my answer.’
‘And you do not consider me suitable?’ Rupert was not prepared to give up.
‘I do not know you well enough to say,’ replied Emile. ‘Perhaps you are, perhaps you are not, but either way she is too young and too inexperienced in the world for a commitment now.’
‘Then I am prepared to wait for her,’ said Rupert, ‘for as long as it takes. All I am asking you for is that she have a chance to get to know me.’
Emile shook his head as if confused. ‘It is not something I can decide on the spur of the moment,’ he said. ‘I will give it some thought and I will tell you my decision when I have made it. Call on me again tomorrow. But before you go I will ask just one further question of you, Monsieur Chalfont. If you are not interested in her money and you are in a position to marry and provide for a wife, why have you not already done so?’
Rupert gave a wry smile. ‘Because, m’sieur, I have never fallen in love before.’
*
When Rupert had gone, Emile went in search of Rosalie. She was in her parlour writing letters, but when he came into the room she put down her pen and said, ‘Was that Monsieur Chalfont I saw leaving just now? Would he not stay for luncheon?’
‘I did not ask him,’ replied her husband. ‘He came to discuss something with me and now he has gone.’
Rosalie had learned from long experience that if she wanted Emile to tell her something, she should not actually ask him. Now she wanted to know why Rupert Chalfont had called and why he had left without speaking to anyone other than Emile.
She said, ‘He’s a charming young man, don’t you think? So unassuming and with such good manners.’
‘Well, I agree he seems that way, but appearances can be deceptive, can’t they? We don’t know the man, after all. Indeed, I don’t think the Barrineaux do either. He was invited to the wedding by young Lucas, and you may remember Suzanne wasn’t best pleased. For all we know he’s an adventurer out for what he can get.’
‘Out for what he can get?’ echoed Rosalie. ‘A harsh judgement, Emile. What makes you say so? You hardly know the man.’
‘Exactly,’ said Emile. ‘We hardly know him and here he is coming to ask for Hélène.’
‘Ask for Hélène?’ Rosalie looked startled.
‘Ask my permission to address her.’
‘And did you give it?’
‘No,’ snapped her husband.
‘Why not?’
‘Why not? Because as you so rightly said, we hardly know the man. How do we know he’s not after her inheritance? How do we know he can provide for her as she should be? He’s a younger son…’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘You know? How do you know?’
‘Somebody told me; Suzanne Barrineau, probably. Does it really matter if he isn’t going to inherit a title? You haven’t got a title!’
‘That’s neither here nor there,’ retorted Emile.
‘So, what did you say?’
‘I said I’d think about it and tell him tomorrow. He maintains he’s not asking for an engagement, not yet, but that’s what he has in mind. He actually told me he’d fallen in love with her. Ridiculous! He’s only seen the girl about twice!’
Rosalie looked across at her husband and gently shook her head. ‘Oh, Emile,’ she sighed. ‘Are we getting old? It only took me one dance with you.’
Emile stared at her. ‘What d’you mean?’ he said.
‘I only danced with you once before I knew you were the man I wanted. Remember the evening of Madame d’Aramitz’s Christmas ball?’
Emile coughed, trying to hide his emotion. He remembered the Christmas ball only too well. Rosalie had come escorted by her mother, young, only eighteen, in a white ballgown with pearls threaded through her hair. It had only taken him one look before he too was lost.
‘My mother didn’t approve of you because you weren’t from a landed family. You had to make your own living. It didn’t stop us, though, did it?’ She reached for his hand and held it against her cheek. It was longer than she could remember since they had been as close as this and she didn’t want the moment to pass.
Emile looked at her as if seeing her again for the first time in years. ‘You’re still beautiful,’ he murmured before pulling his hand away.
‘So,’ Rosalie continued as if there had been no emotional interlude between them, ‘what are you going to say when he comes again tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘He’s English!’
‘He is, and we can’t change that, though if they married they might choose to live here in France.’
‘Married! You run ahead of yourself, madame.’
‘You’re right, I do,’ admitted Rosalie. ‘Perhaps we should speak to Hélène.’
‘Hélène? Why? It’s not her decision to make.’
‘No,’ agreed Rosalie, ‘but if she dislikes the idea, then that makes the decision for you.’
‘And what if she wants to encourage him? What then?’
‘Then perhaps we let them have the chance to get to know each other. Make it clear there is no commitment on either side, but let them meet, walk and talk. She can always take Annette with her for propriety. You never know, either one might change their mind. If you forbid it, then perhaps all will be driven underground. They may meet secretly, and if that were discovered Hélène’s reputation would be ruined.’
‘Perhaps,’ sighed Emile.
‘If Hélène wants to get to know him, better to let it run its course. Throw them together and they may tire of each other, or find they don’t suit.’
Rosalie could see that she had won her argument, and it was one she really believed worth winning. Apart from the fact that she had taken a liking to Rupert Chalfont, she knew that the more such a friendship was opposed, the more likely it was to survive in spite of the opposition. She had been lucky; she had met Emile at the age of eighteen and had never wanted to look at another man. They had married on her nineteenth birthday. Hélène might only be seventeen, but youth wasn’t a true reason to refuse an engagement, for youth would cease to be an issue if the couple were prepared to wait.
‘If you say so,’ Emile conceded with a sigh. ‘Where is she?’
‘In the garden, I believe. Shall I ring and ask Didier to send her in to us?’
‘Now?’ Emile was always uncomfortable with emotional situations and was tempted to put it off.
‘We should see her together, talk to her and then make our decision.’
‘If you think that’s best,’ Emile replied reluctantly.
Rosalie smiled at him affectionately. ‘I do,’ she said, and she rang the bell for the butler.
Five minutes later there was a tap on the door and Hélène came into the room. She was surprised to see both her parents sitting waiting for her. Her mind raced as she wondered what she had done to cause them to send for her like this. Had they discovered somehow that she knew Annette’s secret? She certainly hadn’t spoken of it to anyone else, and surely Annette had not. She’d only been back in the house for a day.
‘You wanted me, Maman? Papa?’
‘Come and sit down, chérie,’ said her mother, patting the seat beside her. ‘Papa and I want to tell you something.’
Hélène sat down as directed, wondering as she did so if they were going to tell her about Annette themselves. She must pretend amazement if they did. She arranged her expression into one of interest, ready to hear whatever it was and react accordingly. When her mother actually spoke, Hélène couldn’t have been more surprised.
‘Your papa had a visitor this morning,’ Rosalie said. ‘Can you guess who it was?’
‘Simon Barnier?’ hazarded Hélène.
‘No, not him,’ said Rosalie, surprised that he should have been the one Hélène had first thought of. Then she saw the look of relief on her daughter’s face and realised that she had been suggesting the person she least wanted to see.
‘It was Monsieur Chalfont,’ said her father.
Rosalie saw the tide of pink spread across Hélène’s cheeks and gave an inward smile. So, Monsieur Chalfont had already made an impression.
‘I find him charming, don’t you?’ asked Rosalie.
‘Yes, indeed,’ whispered Hélène.
Emile, who had not noticed Hélène’s blush, said, ‘Has he always behaved with propriety, Hélène?’
‘Propriety?’ echoed Hélène. ‘How could he not?’
‘But he has been attentive to you?’
‘No more than anyone else. I danced with him at the ball and you saw me sitting next to him at dinner last night.’ She turned to her mother. ‘And that was because you put me there, Maman!’
‘Please don’t speak to your mother in that tone of voice, Hélène,’ snapped her father.
‘Sorry, Maman,’ she muttered, and Rosalie smiled to show that this time it didn’t matter. After all, it was a fair comment.
‘The thing is, chérie,’ Rosalie said, taking the initiative and turning the conversation back in the direction she wanted, ‘Monsieur Chalfont has visited your father this morning to ask if he may pay his addresses to you. Not to become engaged or anything like that, simply to have the chance to build a friendship. All good marriages are founded on friendship.’
‘Though there is no question of marriage at this time,’ stated her father. ‘You’re far too young to be thinking that far ahead.’
‘Of course your father is quite right,’ Rosalie put in quickly, ‘but should you object to him coming to visit you, perhaps taking a walk or carriage ride? With Annette as well, of course. The proprieties must be observed.’
‘No, Maman, I should not object. I should like to get to know him better.’ Hélène spoke calmly, but inside her heart was racing. Rupert had come to Papa to ask for her. She understood that they must move slowly to please her parents, for the sake of decorum, but she also knew that if he asked her, she would go with him tomorrow.
She caught her father looking at her and hoped that he couldn’t see into her heart and know the jolt of joy that had set it thudding so fast and so loudly that she was surprised neither of her parents seemed to hear it.
‘If you are alone with him beyond the walls of this house, you must take that girl with you,’ said her father. ‘I will not have your reputation compromised.’
‘I understand, Papa,’ Hélène replied demurely.
‘Then if you will excuse me, my dear,’ he said to Rosalie, ‘I will leave you to it. I shall see you both at dinner.’
When he had left the room, Rosalie smiled at her daughter. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I told you that we should be looking for a husband for you next, and now you already have a beau. But you do understand, don’t you, that when you are out anywhere with him you must have Annette in attendance.’
Hélène was very happy to comply with this dictum. It accorded very well with the plan she and Annette had in mind for the future. Indeed, this might be the right moment to make the suggestion to her mother.
She drew a deep breath and said, ‘I was wondering, Maman, if Yvette might train Annette as a lady’s maid – then when I get married, I shall be able to take her with me into my new home,’ adding as an afterthought, ‘wherever that happens to be.’
‘Maybe,’ replied her mother. ‘I’ll think about it. It would mean employing another housemaid in her place. Your sister didn’t have a maid until she was married. And you know,’ she went on, ‘Annette might not want to become a lady’s maid.’
‘No, maybe not,’ Hélène said, ‘but we could ask her, couldn’t we?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ repeated her mother.
And think about it she did. When she had left home to marry Emile she had brought her beloved Marie-Jeanne with her and knew how much she had helped her in the transition from young, blushing bride to mistress of a household. Even now, after nearly seven years, the thought of Marie-Jeanne could bring tears to her eyes, her brave and loyal nurse who had been killed trying to protect Hélène during the war in Paris. She had no idea if Hélène was going to marry this charming Englishman, but if she did, how much easier it would be to have an old friend and companion with her, particularly if Rupert decided that they should live across the Channel.
*
Rupert did not sleep well that night. He kept going over and over his interview with Emile St Clair, wondering if there had been anything further he could have said or done to tip the balance in his favour. For he realised that Emile’s answer was, indeed, very much in the balance. What was he going to do if his suit was turned down and he was not allowed to see Hélène? It didn’t bear thinking about and yet he could think of nothing else. As the dawn light crept between the curtains, he finally drifted off into an uneasy doze, only to wake an hour or so later with the same question terrorising his mind. He had breakfast sent up to his room and then he allowed Parker to shave him, afraid his own hand might shake. He dressed with care and in a hired chaise had himself driven out to Belair.
This time he was shown into the drawing room, where he found both Hélène’s parents waiting for him. Rosalie greeted him with a smile, and when he had shaken her hand, he turned to her husband.
‘Good day, m’sieur,’ he said.
Emile returned his greeting and then wasted no time in coming to the point. ‘Monsieur Chalfont,’ he said, ‘I have given great thought to what you proposed to me yesterday, and with certain caveats, I am prepared to allow you to visit my daughter as a suitor, but I must emphasise that this will not lead to a formal engagement for some time.’
Rupert, filled with elation, wondered if his happiness showed on his face. Hélène was going to be his. He forced his attention back to Emile St Clair, who was still speaking.
‘Hélène is very young,’ he was saying, ‘and though she is happy to receive your visits, we want no pressure put upon her to further your friendship, unless and until she is certain of her own mind. Whenever you meet, decorum must be preserved; I will not have her reputation put at risk by any dishonourable behaviour.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Rupert answered. ‘I thank you for your trust and I can make a solemn promise to you that I will do nothing that could be regarded as a slur on her honour… or my own.’ He could feel the smile spreading across his face as he added, ‘I swear I shall do everything within my power to make her happy.’