‘Bruno!’ Her taciturn husband bounded across the yard and met M. Chastain with open arms. They pounded each other on the backs as if they were schoolboys, then parted and took the measure of each other. ‘You are old.’

‘You,’ M. Chastain poked a finger into Vincent’s stomach, ‘are older. And rude. You must present me to your wife, you great lumbering fool.’

Still smiling – no, grinning – Vincent brought him to Jane. ‘Jane, may I introduce Bruno Chastain. My wife, Jane Vincent.’

‘How do you do.’ Jane dropped a curtsey.

M. Chastain held out his arms, shaking his head. ‘We do not stand on ceremony here! You are family.’ He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned close, kissing her on both cheeks before she could think of a response. ‘Welcome. David is like a brother to me, and you, a sister.’

Jane had met Frenchmen before, but they had always belied their reputation for effusive displays, seeming only a little more enthusiastic than her native Britons. Jane sometimes wondered if that was because they had modified their behaviour to match that of her country.

From the door of the main house, a woman called, ‘Bonjour, Bonjour, bienvenue! Je suis si heureuse de vous voir ici. Bruno, faitesles rentrer avant qu’ils ne prennent froid.’ Then she hurried down the steps, delicate features glowing with welcome. Standing on her toes, she barely came up to Vincent’s chest, but this did not stop her from clasping his face and pulling his head down to kiss him on both cheeks. Vincent did not appear to be surprised by this. ‘Laissez-moi vous regarder. Oh, vous ressemblez en tous points à la description de Bruno. J’ai déjà l’impression de vous bien connaître.’

In this moment Jane learned that, though her written French was passable, she had almost no comprehension of the spoken language. She was fairly certain that the woman had just said that she had not met Vincent before, and yet that could not be the case, given how familiarly she had greeted him.

‘Enchantée de faire votre connaissance.’ Vincent responded with French that sounded as fluent and easy as any of the natives. ‘Bruno a fait votre éloge dans bien des lettres, Madame Chastain.’

‘Oh, non, non, cela n’ira pas. Vous devez m’appeler Aliette.’ Without waiting for a response, Mme Chastain took Jane by the hands, quickly kissing her on both cheeks. ‘Vous devez être Jane. Je suis si contente de vous voir ici.’

Flustered, Jane managed a ‘Merci,’ which seemed to satisfy Mme Chastain.