They arrived in St Etienne early the next afternoon. Rupert stopped the coach at Le Coq d’Argent and bespoke a suite for them for that night. He was aware that their arrival at Belair might not be as welcome as it might once have been. He had noticed Hélène growing increasingly tense the nearer they got to the village and he wanted to be able to remove her from any unpleasantness if necessary.

It was Louise who saw the carriage first. She stared wide-eyed as she realised who was in it.

‘Maman,’ she shrieked, bursting into her mother’s parlour. ‘Maman, Hélène’s come home. She’s in a coach and she’s with Rupert!’

Rosalie stared at her in dismay. With Rupert? Surely the silly girl hadn’t run all the way to England to find him, a married man who’d deserted her?

‘Calm down,’ she instructed her daughter. ‘Stop shouting while I go and find your father.’ She hurried down the stairs and found Emile in his study.

‘Hélène’s come home,’ she told him. ‘Rupert Chalfont has brought her home.’

‘She shall not enter this house,’ Emile stated. ‘She has disgraced us all and is no longer a daughter of mine.’

‘She will always be your daughter, whether you approve of her or not,’ said Rosalie firmly, ‘and she will always be a daughter of mine. We lost her once before, I will not turn her away and lose her again.’

‘And what’s she doing with that man?’ Emile demanded as if Rosalie hadn’t spoken. ‘A married man bringing her here. Has she no shame? I will not see her.’

‘They are at the door,’ Rosalie told him. ‘You may stay in here, Emile, but I shall go and welcome her home. Where’s your charity? Haven’t you heard of the prodigal son?’ And with that she swept out of the room to meet her daughter at the front door.

As soon as the carriage drew up and the steps were lowered, Rupert sprang out and handed down his bride. Annette jumped down behind them and without a moment’s hesitation disappeared in search of Pierre.

Rosalie waited for Hélène under the portico, watching as she took Rupert’s arm.

‘Madame,’ he said, pausing at the bottom of the steps, ‘may I present my wife, Lady Chalfont?’

‘Your wife!’ Rosalie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘You’re married?’

‘Indeed, madame, two days ago at the British Embassy, Hélène did me the honour of becoming my wife.’

‘But… but I thought you were married,’ stammered Rosalie.

‘Perhaps we might come inside, madame,’ Rupert replied smoothly, ‘and we can explain what’s happened.’

Rosalie looked down at Hélène. So far she’d said nothing, but there was the bloom of happiness on her cheeks, a brightness in her eyes as she stood, her fingers resting on her husband’s arm. Now she said, ‘Rupert and I are married, Maman. I have come home to tell you this and to say that we shall be returning to his home in England in the near future. I wanted to see you all before I went. Can we not come indoors and talk?’