Despite her advanced age and the killer heels she was wearing, the duchess made a surprisingly swift job of their tour. They started back in the Great Hall, where, she explained, the wedding guests were greeted as they arrived. ‘They usually have a drinks reception in the salon before moving to the dining room, with overflow into the orangery. We can accommodate one hundred and fifty guests between the two,’ she explained proudly. ‘If there are more, or if they wish to be outside, we use either the courtyard . . .’ She pushed open the orangery door, revealing a large area within the four towers of the château. ‘. . . Or if they prefer a view, we certainly can provide that.’ She led them briskly back through the salon to another set of huge French windows and threw them open with a dramatic gesture.

The view was indeed breathtaking. A vast terrace gave onto a low balustraded wall below which the ground fell away, rolling through serried ranks of vines right down to the banks of the Savarin, sparkling and dancing in the afternoon sun, and straight on to Meredith’s bridge.

‘It’s my view in reverse!’ breathed Meredith, so enchanted that she forgot her surroundings. She was momentarily lost in a vision of herself and her father standing on the bridge – it was so clear, it seemed more real than the scene around her.

Margot watched her, fascinated. What strange people these British were. This brisk, efficient woman, not unlike herself, Margot decided, looked almost as if she were experiencing a beatific vision – like Bernadette in Lourdes, or one of the visions St Joan claimed to have been given, which had taken her off to some other world more vivid than their own. Still, the canny Margot decided, it might be a vision that made her more open to purchasing.

‘The vineyard also belongs to us,’ Margot continued. ‘We feature our own wine at the weddings. A tasting forms part of the weekend package. We find it’s very popular. Why don’t you go and take a little look outside while I look for our wedding organizer?’

Jo gazed out at the vineyard. Ever since the weeks she’d spent grape-picking she’d had a bit of a fantasy about moving to France and having a terrace shaded by her own vines. Some chance of that!

When they got back inside, Jo gently tugged Meredith’s sleeve. ‘This place is absolutely gorgeous,’ she said quietly, ‘and I can see what it means to you, but somehow this duchess seems to have got the wrong idea. She seems to think you’re interested in buying it.’

Meredith turned to her two friends, beaming. ‘Perhaps that’s because I told them I was,’ she replied.

‘But you live in Shanghai!’ blurted Joanna. ‘Or was it Hong Kong? You’re a high-flying businesswoman, not a wedding planner!’