‘Useless?’

Jeanne’s tone as she echoed the word was more bewildered than ever.

But of course! Quite useless! I am an aristocrat, Jeanne, a lady! Open the door of the wardrobe and tell me how many of the dresses hanging there will be suitable for me now.’

Obediently and half as if she were hypnotised Jeanne crossed the room to the huge mahogany wardrobe which occupied the whole of one wall of the bedroom. With a gesture she threw open the double doors. The wardrobe was tightly packed with gowns of all descriptions. They seemed, as they hung there, blended into all the colours of the rainbow, to come alive, for the frills, ribbons and laces with which they were trimmed fluttered in the draught caused by the opening of the doors.

‘You can sell them for me,’ Emilie said from the bed. They will not fetch much, but Widow Wyatt in the Market – cheat though she is – will give you a better price than anyone else. Tell her what they cost and drive the best bargain you can. There is the green velveteen new but these three months, and the cyclamen satin de laine which was only delivered a week before Christmas.’

‘Oui, Madame, you have only worn the cyclamen three times!’

As she spoke, Jeanne took the gown almost lovingly from its hanger. Of satin with wide crepeline frills, it was ornamented with bows of velvet ribbon, the corsage and narrow sleeves besprinkled with diamanté. It was obvious that the dress was expensive, but in the morning light it looked garish. There was something common and also suggestive about it as it hung from Jeanne’s hands, its boned bodice billowing out as if it still concealed some ghostly figure within it.

‘Take it away, Jeanne,’ Emilie commanded sharply. ‘I realise now what I must have looked like in it.’

Obediently Jeanne put the dress back on the hanger and shut the wardrobe door.

‘And if these are disposed of – what will Madame wear?’ she enquired.

‘New clothes – both day and evening gowns which must be made for me at once, and Mademoiselle’s need will be the same as mine. You will go immediately and ask Madame Guibout to call on us. Tell her it is of the utmost importance and an order of some magnitude.’

‘Madame Guibout! She will be expensive!’

‘I am well aware of that, Jeanne. This is a moment when we do not spare money. As I have told you, a new life begins.’

Even as Emilie spoke, the tone of her voice seeming almost a trumpet call which echoed round the room, there came a knock on the door. For a second the eyes of mistress and maid met and neither spoke. Then almost as if it were an effort Emilie said,

‘Entrez!’