He would write back to Annette, Rupert decided, and ask her all the questions to which he wanted answers. Perhaps then he might tackle Fran about the missing letters, but maybe that too would do more harm than good. There was Kitty, and her feelings must be considered. She had known nothing about Hélène and their engagement, and since there was nothing to be done, perhaps it would be better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Chapter 38

It had been decided that Hélène and Simon’s wedding should be a quiet one, just the families on both sides and a few close friends. Hélène was glad; she didn’t want the huge celebrations that had attended Clarice’s nuptials, bringing unwelcome memories of the day when she’d first seen Rupert. The actual marriage would take place in the Mairie followed by a service conducted by Father Bernard in the church, but it would be a low-key affair without bridesmaids or other attendants. There would be a select group invited to the wedding breakfast at Belair, after which the newly married couple would quietly retire to their new home to begin their married life.

Annette had been told she would be moving with Hélène, and safe in the knowledge that Pierre was waiting for her, she was happy enough to go.

When Hélène is thrust into that house of strangers, Annette thought, she’ll need me as a friend to confide in, as well as a maid to look after her.

She was folding Hélène’s clothes into a trunk for transportation to the Garden House when Lizette appeared, breathless, at the bedroom door.

‘Annette, Madame wants you in the drawing room,’ she said. ‘Right away.’

Annette smoothed the blue silk evening dress she had been folding into the case and, getting up from her knees, hurried downstairs. In the drawing room she found Madame St Clair and Hélène seated by the fire, and Simon Barnier pacing the floor like a caged lion.

‘Ah, Annette,’ said her mistress. ‘Monsieur Barnier is taking Miss Hélène over to Gavrineau directly. The carriage is waiting outside. Please be ready to attend them.’

Annette bobbed a curtsy and said, ‘Yes, madame, at once.’

She quickly collected her own hat and coat and then helped Hélène into hers, a new fur, a present from her father. Ten minutes later they were bowling down the drive in the Gavrineau chaise, driven by Simon himself. Hélène and Annette were seated side by side behind him. Neither of them spoke, anxious, in front of Simon, to maintain the relationship of mistress and maid. Though shafts of pale winter sunshine occasionally burst through the clouds, there was also a chill in the air and despite her new coat, Hélène shivered.

The carriage turned in through the gates of Gavrineau and made its way along the tree-lined drive, the bare branches of the winter avenue stark against the grey January sky. Ahead of her Hélène could see Gavrineau itself, standing sombre and tall. It was an imposing house with echoes of the chateau it might have been in earlier days, but its turrets were now to add grandeur rather than for fortification, and its windows were wide and high to let in light and to offer a view. Hélène knew the house from childhood, but it was not yet to be her home and she was glad. Used as she was to the easy comfort of Belair, she found Gavrineau too grandiose for her taste, with its sweeping staircases and marble floors. She and Simon were to live in the much smaller Garden House, which had been built for Simon’s great-grandmother when she was widowed.