Hélène spoke little about what had happened to her, and following Dr Simon’s advice, Rosalie did not push her. Emile was less sensitive and it wasn’t until his wife took him severely to task that he drew back.
‘Emile, the child has been through a terrible ordeal. She still has nightmares, she still wakes up screaming; you’ve heard her! Just leave her for now and let her memories fade.’
‘But we must find those men, the ones who invaded our home…’ blustered Emile, his anger reddening his cheeks. ‘They murdered Marie-Jeanne, for God’s sake, as well as abducting Hélène.’
‘I know, but they will have to wait. We can do nothing for Marie-Jeanne and our priority now must be Hélène.’
‘But they must be brought to justice,’ persisted Emile.
‘That justice is as nothing,’ returned Rosalie. ‘Nothing compared with the harm they did to our daughter. If Jeannot hadn’t found—’
‘That tyke!’ interrupted Emile. ‘He knows more than he’s saying. We should…’
‘So please, Emile,’ went on Rosalie, entirely ignoring his interruption, ‘don’t question Hélène any more. We can do nothing about those who harmed her, all we can do is give her the space to heal.’
Even so, more snippets of Hélène’s ordeal came out over the next few days, Dr Simon filling in the parts that he knew, and it was when she heard of the kindness Madame Sauze had shown Hélène that Rosalie felt she must act.
‘I think we ought to let Madame Sauze know that you’re safely back with your family,’ she said to Hélène one morning over breakfast. ‘I thought we might go to the Clergy House and thank her for her care.’
‘She put me in the orphanage,’ said Hélène flatly. ‘She didn’t let me stay.’
‘I doubt if that was her decision to make,’ Rosalie replied gently. ‘It wasn’t appropriate for you to stay in the Clergy House and you needed somewhere safe to live, off the streets.’
‘I hated it there!’ said Hélène mutinously.
‘I know, darling,’ said her mother, reaching for her hand, ‘but it was the best place for you in the circumstances.’ She got to her feet. ‘We’ll pay her a visit this morning and tell her that you’re well and thank her for looking after you as she did.’
Even as they approached the door of the Clergy House, it opened and Father Thomas came out into the street. For a moment he stared at the mother and daughter on the pavement outside without recognition, but at the sight of him, Hélène stepped back behind her mother.
‘Good morning, Father,’ Rosalie said with a smile.
‘Good morning, madame,’ he responded uncertainly. He was impressed by this elegant woman, clearly a lady of class, and wondered why she was calling.
‘Is Madame Sauze at home?’ Rosalie asked as if asking for the mistress of the house.
‘Madame Sauze?’ The young priest sounded surprised and added, ‘Father Lenoir is in his study, but I cannot say for sure if the housekeeper,’ he emphasised her standing, ‘is in the house or has gone to the market.’ He straightened his back, determined not to be daunted by this woman. ‘But perhaps I may be of assistance?’
‘I’d rather not discuss things on your doorstep, Father,’ Rosalie said firmly, ‘and it is Madame Sauze we’ve come to see.’ She stepped forward and Father Thomas gave way, opening the front door again and standing aside for her, and the child behind her, to enter the house. As he did so he had his first real look at the girl who followed her in. She was prettily dressed, her dark hair parted neatly down the middle and caught back in a clasp at the nape of her neck before waterfalling in shining curls down her back, and her skin glowed with good health. The expression on her face, however, was one of pure loathing, and it was that look in her eyes that brought recognition to his. He looked away, entirely disconcerted. Surely this well-dressed girl with the glossy hair couldn’t be the street urchin they’d put into St Luke’s? She’d been filthy, dressed in rags, spouting lies in the hope of being kept at the Clergy House. Madame Sauze had been taken in, and so too had Father Lenoir to a certain extent, but he, Father Thomas, had not been so gullible. And now? And now he was faced with an upper-class lady, with that same child in tow, coming to visit them. Had she come to thank them for befriending her daughter – for the girl clearly was her daughter, with the same brown eyes under lids with impossibly long lashes, the same high cheekbones, the same sculpted lips – or had she come to complain of their treatment of her, to berate them for putting the girl into St Luke’s and thus seeming to abandon her, their charitable work done, another vulnerable girl off the streets?
Well, he decided with a mental shrug, whichever it is, Father Lenoir will have to deal with it. He, after all, is the parish priest. I’m only his curate, bound by his decisions.
‘I will tell Father Lenoir you’re here, madame,’ he said. ‘Whom shall I say is calling?’
‘Madame Rosalie St Clair and her daughter Hélène.’
They were shown into the priest’s study where Father Lenoir greeted them with a hand raised in blessing, before they were both offered seats before his desk.
‘I’ve come to thank you and Madame Sauze for taking my daughter in when she found herself distressed and living on the streets,’ Rosalie said.
‘It was nothing, madame,’ he remarked calmly. ‘Just our simple Christian duty. No child of her age should be left to fend for herself. It was most unfortunate that we couldn’t make contact with you at the time. I can assure you it wasn’t for lack of trying,’ he spread his hands, ‘but the tempestuous state of Paris made it impossible.’
‘We quite understand, Father,’ Rosalie interposed. ‘My husband and I would like to make an endowment to your church as a sign of our gratitude.’
‘That is most generous, madame,’ declared the priest, ‘and something I feel able to accept on behalf of Our Lord.’
Rosalie smiled. ‘Then it will be arranged,’ she said. ‘Now, before we go I would like to see Madame Sauze, if I may.’
She got to her feet and Father Lenoir, opening the door, called out, ‘Annette! Annette! Where are you, girl?’
To Hélène’s amazement, Annette, the bread thief, appeared from the kitchen. The two girls stared at each other for a moment before the priest said testily, ‘Annette, please show Madame St Clair and her daughter into the parlour and then ask Madame Sauze to join them there.’ He turned back to Rosalie and said, ‘If you will excuse me, madame, I have parish business to attend to, but do stay with Madame Sauze for as long as you please.’ Once again he raised his hand but didn’t offer it, before turning back into his study and closing the door.
Annette led them into the parlour and then scurried away to find Agathe Sauze. The delight that suffused the housekeeper’s face when she came into the room and saw who was there told Rosalie all she needed to know about this generous woman. Madame Sauze held out her hands to Hélène and after a moment’s hesitation the girl took them and was pulled into a warm embrace.
‘You’re looking well, my child,’ she said when they finally broke apart. ‘Thank God you’re safe! He heard my prayers.’ She turned to Rosalie who held out her hand and the two women sat down, their heads together as they spoke softly.
Annette came back into the room and Hélène asked, ‘You work here now?’
‘Yes, Madame Sauze came and asked for me at St Luke’s.’
‘Thanks for helping me escape,’ Hélène said a little awkwardly.
‘Just had a coughing fit, and Sister Gabrielle nearly fell over me.’ Annette grinned at the memory. ‘Got a beating from Reverend Mother when we got home again. Black and blue I was, but it was worth it! One in the eye for all of them!’
‘And Madame Sauze came for you?’
‘She came to see Mother and said she was looking for a housemaid to train up… and she asked for me… by name. Don’t think Mother was very pleased. She tried to send Amélie, but Madame said I was the one she wanted.’ Annette gave Hélène a shy smile. ‘Thanks to you I’m out of that hellhole.’
‘It’s thanks to yourself,’ Hélène told her. ‘I might not have made it if you hadn’t tripped up Sister Gabrielle.’ She looked across at her mother and Madame Sauze, still deep in conversation. ‘She’s very kind, Madame is,’ she said.
‘She is,’ agreed Annette, ‘and Father Lenoir is all right, too. It’s Father Thomas I can’t bear. He’s mean as a toad. Always finding fault and telling me I’m only alive as the result of sin.’
‘I hate him too,’ said Hélène with a shudder.
‘Lucky you, you don’t have to live with him.’
Rosalie stayed for another quarter of an hour before getting to her feet and saying, ‘Well, Hélène, we must go home. Thank Madame Sauze again for looking after you.’
‘I’ll never forget you, madame,’ Hélène promised as they embraced. ‘You’re my good angel.’ She gave Annette a quick hug. ‘I won’t forget you, either, bread-thief,’ she murmured, ‘or the beating you took for me.’ She glanced over her shoulder to be sure no one was in earshot and added, ‘And watch out for that toad.’
Two days later Rosalie went back to St Etienne to superintend the arrangements for Georges’s homecoming, leaving Emile in Paris but taking Hélène with her. Thus, Hélène wasn’t there to see the repercussions of the letters that had been despatched. Not long after Rosalie and she had set off back to the country by train, there was a knock at the doctor’s front door and Madame Yvette found an unaccompanied young lady standing on the doorstep, demanding to see Lieutenant Georges St Clair.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Madame Yvette, looking the young person up and down with disfavour. ‘Captain St Clair is indisposed and having no visitors.’ She made as if to shut the door but the young lady on the step had different ideas. She placed her foot firmly over the threshold and said, ‘I think you’ll find he wants to see me. Please be so good as to tell him his fiancée is here.’
Madame Yvette looked mutinous for a moment but then she shrugged and said, ‘You’d better come in. I’ll ask the doctor.’
Dr Simon came out of his room at that moment and seeing an attractive girl standing in his hall, said, ‘Good afternoon, mademoiselle, can I help you?’
‘My name is Sylvie Claviet and I’ve come to see my fiancé, Captain St Clair.’
‘Have you indeed?’ answered the doctor with a smile. ‘Well, I’m delighted to see you. But, before you go in, I should warn you that he’s had to have his leg amputated and—’
‘Oh, I know about his leg,’ Sylvie said dismissively. ‘Hélène wrote and told me.’
Dr Simon raised an eyebrow. ‘I see,’ he said, ‘but you have to understand, it isn’t just his leg he’s lost, it’s his confidence and self-esteem… as if he were now somehow less of a man. I think seeing you will do him good, but I’m just warning you to tread carefully.’
Sylvie looked at him and nodded. ‘He says he doesn’t want to marry me anymore,’ she said.
‘I’m sure that isn’t true, mademoiselle, but he may well believe that he should not. Men like him, brave and honest, are afraid of becoming a burden on their friends and family.’
‘A burden?’ cried Sylvie. ‘He could never be that to me.’
‘And so you must convince him,’ smiled the doctor, standing aside to let her enter Georges’s room. ‘I don’t doubt that you can; he sounds like a very lucky man.’