‘These are for my child,’ Alice said. ‘They are the only things I brought away with me. If the necessity arises, you must sell them. They are very valuable.’

Her eyes had closed wearily when she had finished speaking, she had already been in labour for some hours. Emilie had stared stupidly at the beautiful translucent necklace which Alice placed in her hands.

She had never seen any pearls like them before and she was sure that Alice spoke the truth when she said they were very valuable.

How had Alice kept them hidden from her all these months? She wondered. And she hated with a bitter, burning hatred the man who had changed the happy, talkative girl she had left at Monaco into a miserable, reserved woman. Nothing she could do or say would make Alice talk about what had happened. Emilie had pleaded, commanded, entreated – all without effect.

‘I do not wish to talk about it,’ Alice would repeat over and over again.

And only when Emilie, goaded beyond endurance, had threatened to write to the Grand Duke did she vary the sentence with,

‘You have promised on the Bible, you cannot break your vow! There is nothing you can do.’

No, there was nothing Emilie could do but watch Alice with frustrated, angry eyes.

When Alice died, Emilie had hidden the pearls away and had spoken of them to no one, but from the very first she was determined not to sell them. They became another part of the weapon that she was creating – a weapon which would ultimately avenge both Alice and herself.

The pearls had gone with her to Paris. When she told the Riguad family that she was leaving for the Capital, they were even more astonished than at her decision to give up the farm.

‘Paris!’ they exclaimed. ‘But what will you do? And how will you live? Paris is very expensive.’

‘I shall work,’ Emilie said.

‘But what at?’ they asked. ‘You have only worked here on the farm. There are no farms in Paris.’

‘I shall find something to do,’ Emilie said confidently.

Her confidence was justified, although she did not feel as self assured as she looked when she set off on the long train journey. Yet hidden in the bottom of her black bag was the pearl necklace and she knew that, if all else failed, she could sell it. Not only for herself but for Mistral’s schooling. The fees for the first term at the Convent had already been paid out of the small sum Emilie had realised in selling her share of the farm to her uncles.

But despite her lofty airs with the family, the expenses had shocked Emilie. There were so many extras. In addition to the Convent’s fees Mistral had required new clothes and finally there had been the journey to Lucerne.