‘I must go up and change,’ she said with a sigh and she got to her feet. Her remark was greeted by a grunt and she added quietly, ‘So you’ll go to your club for your dinner?’

Emile glanced up and answered, ‘I just said so, didn’t I?’ before returning to his paper.

Rosalie saw little of The Pearl Fishers that evening, as Madame Sauze’s request filled her mind. Emile was not yet home when they returned from the opera and it was with relief that she went immediately to her bed. Despite her fatigue she still couldn’t sleep. Lying in the darkness, Rosalie went through all the possibilities. She knew, even against her better judgement, that she was going to take in the girl, Annette, but there had to be definite conditions, and working these out kept her awake until the small hours. She realised that the story of Annette’s ‘husband’ was thin, but the girl would be entirely unknown in St Etienne and it couldn’t be disproved. If Madame Sauze accepted her offer, Rosalie would be the one to tell Hélène, to ensure that she had no doubt about the veracity of the story. She would have to speak to Emile about it in the morning, but the story she would tell him would be of the death of a young man, leaving a young widow expecting his child.

When Agathe arrived back at the Avenue Ste Anne the following afternoon, she was immediately shown up to Rosalie’s private sitting room. Rosalie was sitting at a desk in the bay window with papers spread out before her.

‘Madame Sauze, madame.’ Didier’s voice conveyed his distaste that this person should be received twice in as many days.

‘Thank you, Didier.’ Rosalie got up from her chair and, having greeted Agathe, invited her to sit in one of the armchairs and took the one opposite.

‘Madame,’ she said, leaning forward and coming straight to the point. ‘I have been giving your request a great deal of thought and I think I may be able to help you and the young person concerned. However, I have to insist on several strict and unalterable conditions.’ She paused, but Agathe made no reply, simply waited to hear what the conditions were.

Rosalie gave a nod of appreciation. ‘Firstly, the fiction of her being recently widowed must be upheld. She must speak to no one at all of the Clergy House or what has happened there. Secondly, you will have to accompany her.’

‘Oh, but, madame—’

Rosalie raised her hand. ‘Hear me out, madame,’ she said. ‘Very soon I shall be looking for a new housekeeper at Belair. Madame Choux, my present housekeeper, is old and tired. She has served the family well for many years, but the work is getting too much for her. Before long she will be pensioned off in one of the cottages in the village. You and the girl—’

‘Annette,’ put in Agathe, determined that Annette should be a real person rather than a nobody without a name.