Chapter 52

Sir Rupert and Lady Chalfont were married a week later in the embassy chapel by the ambassador’s chaplain in the presence of Mr and Mrs David Bertram and Madame Annette Dubois and Mr Peter Parker. The arrangements had been far more straightforward than Rupert had feared. David Bertram had made the necessary enquires and all they were asked for was a declaration that there was no impediment to their marriage. Rupert was declared a widower and Hélène, spinster.

In the few days Hélène lived with the Bertrams, Christine told her a good deal about the British way of life. She also suggested that Hélène should practise her English. Mademoiselle Corbine had done her best, and Hélène had the basics, but when Christine realised how limited Hélène’s grasp of the language was, she only spoke to her in English from then on. She also took the question of Hélène’s wardrobe in hand and, using her influence with her own dressmaker, managed to ensure that Hélène had a suitable outfit in which to be married and another for travelling. At Hélène’s insistence, Annette was also provided with new clothes. Though bought ready-made, the two dresses and the skirt and bodice were far better than anything Annette had ever owned before.

After the short ceremony, they left the embassy hand in hand as husband and wife. Christine had insisted on providing a celebratory meal for when they returned to their apartment.

‘It’s not going to be much of a wedding day for the poor girl if we don’t celebrate together and have a glass of champagne to toast your happiness.’

Rupert agreed. How could he not when the Bertrams had been so kind in looking after Hélène?

As the evening began to draw in, Rupert took his bride to his suite in the Hotel Montreux. He had ordered Jacques Rocher to fill it with flowers and to serve a quiet supper for the two of them. A fire had been lit against a chill in the air and they sat together in front of its warmth as the darkness deepened outside.

‘Happy?’ asked Rupert as Hélène nestled against him.

‘Mmm,’ she sighed. ‘Very.’

That night they slept in each other’s arms. Rupert made no effort to consummate the marriage, simply held Hélène close until, unafraid, she drifted off into sleep.

The following morning, when they had been served breakfast in their suite, they prepared to travel to St Etienne. Rupert had hired a carriage and a coachman to drive them, so that when they arrived at Belair it would be in some style. The journey by road would take two days and they would have to pass a night at an inn on the way, but to Rupert’s mind that was no bad thing, enabling Hélène to become less afraid of the marriage bed before arriving at Belair. Annette was travelling with them, happy enough to return to her place as Hélène’s maid, and longing to be back with Pierre.

Rupert and Hélène’s second night together, though in a rather lumpy bed at the inn, passed as peacefully as the first, with Rupert making no physical demands on her and Hélène comfortably asleep in his arms. Annette, in a small side room, lay wondering what sort of reception she was going to get when she arrived at Belair. She was sure that even if they welcomed Hélène back with open arms, they would blame her for going with her. Well, she decided, she didn’t care; Pierre would be there waiting for her. Would he really marry her and would everything be different with him, as she’d told Hélène?