‘He has even dressed the Empress Eugénie,’ Rosalie replied.

Emile had no time for the erstwhile empress who had fled to exile in England at the end of the Prussian war, but accepted that if this man commanded royal clientele he must be the best, and only the best was good enough for his beloved daughter. So Rosalie had taken Clarice to 7 Rue de la Paix, and with the attention of Monsieur Worth himself, they had chosen the fabric and the design of the dress and it had been created exclusively for Clarice.

Wedding arrangements were now well advanced, but it seemed to Rosalie that every minute of her day had been taken over by the preparations. Today had been particularly long and it was not yet over. She only had two hours before she would be leaving the house again to chaperone Clarice to a performance of The Pearl Fishers at the new opera house. She had already sent Clarice upstairs to rest and intended to lie down for an hour herself before dressing; thus she was not pleased when Didier came quietly to the drawing room.

‘Excuse me, madame,’ he said, ‘but there is a person at the door asking to speak with you.’

Rosalie raised tired eyes and said, ‘A person, Didier? What sort of person?’

‘A woman of the lower classes, madame,’ replied the butler.

‘Then send her away,’ said Rosalie, wearily. ‘I don’t want to see anyone just now.’

‘Very good, madame.’ Didier left the room to deal with the unwelcome woman caller. Not wanting to leave her standing on their doorstep for all the neighbours to see, he had brought her indoors, but then told her to wait while he would discover if Madame St Clair was at home. When he returned, she was standing exactly where he had left her, and on hearing his tread she looked up expectantly.

‘Madame St Clair is not at home to visitors,’ he said stiffly, and moved to open the front door.

The woman stood her ground and said, ‘Please will you tell her my name? It’s Agathe—’

At that moment Hélène came down the stairs and saw Didier about to eject someone from the house. As she reached the hallway she paused, staring in confusion at the woman who seemed so familiar. Then, with a cry of delight, she recognised her. Madame Sauze, who had taken her in when, as a child, she’d been lost and alone on the streets in Paris.

‘Madame Sauze! Is that you? Is it really you? Didier, it’s Madame Sauze! Why are you showing her out? Have you been visiting Maman, madame? Why didn’t she call me?’

‘Madame St Clair is not receiving visitors this afternoon, Miss Hélène,’ Didier said repressively.

‘But did she know it was Madame Sauze?’ demanded Hélène. She turned back to Agathe. ‘Did you want to see my mother, madame?’

‘I was hoping for the favour of a word with her, but if it’s inconvenient I can come again another time.’