When she heard the purpose of Suzanne’s visit, she smiled wearily and replied, ‘Of course it will be no problem, Suzanne. Any friend of Lucas’s is welcome at the wedding and of course he’ll be seated with your family.’

Suzanne went on to explain at some length the unexpected arrival of Rupert Chalfont, the son of an English ‘milor’, now in Paris and on his way to visit them.

Rosalie hardly heard what she was saying. Suzanne was always a rattle, and Rosalie had other things on her mind. She had recognised from the resentful expression on her housekeeper’s face when she’d got home earlier that Madame Choux was not best pleased with the arrival of Agathe and Annette, but though she knew she needed to smooth her housekeeper’s ruffled feathers, so far she’d had no chance to do so. Neither had she seen the newcomers – she would send for them in due course but had not yet had time. She also needed to speak with Hélène in private to tell her of the new arrivals and explain their presence.

‘So, my dear Rosalie, you see how difficult it would be for the poor man, knowing no one but Lucas…’

Rosalie returned her attention to Suzanne, saying as she poured more coffee and offered the plate of Cook’s ratafia biscuits, ‘Please don’t concern yourself, Suzanne. There will be no problem with the arrangements, I assure you.’

It was a relief when Suzanne rose to go, pleading, ‘So much to do, my dear Rosalie,’ adding as a decided afterthought, ‘as you must have yourself!’

Rosalie agreed that indeed she did, and rang for Didier to show Suzanne out.

While their mother had been engaged with Madame Barrineau, the three girls had been happily settling back into their country home. Though they all enjoyed the occasional visit to Paris, they had always preferred living at Belair, where they were allowed far more freedom. Clarice went upstairs to rest before yet another evening engagement, Louise made herself scarce before her governess, Mademoiselle Corbine, could summon her to the schoolroom, and Hélène decided to go into the drawing room and play the piano. It was as she was crossing the hall that she saw Annette, the bread thief. She stopped in her tracks as Annette emerged from behind the heavy door that separated the kitchen and servants’ area from the main part of the house. She was carrying a pile of ironed sheets that Madame Sauze needed upstairs. She, too, stopped short, almost dropping her load of linen.

‘Annette?’ Hélène stared at her. ‘Is it you?’

‘Yes, Miss Hélène,’ answered Annette carefully.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Hélène looked perplexed. ‘But what are you doing here?’

‘Taking these sheets upstairs to Madame Sauze to be—’

‘Madame Sauze! Is she here too? What’s going on?’

‘Your mother has employed us both to help out over the busy period of Miss Clarice’s wedding, miss. She said it was going to be a very busy time.’

‘I see,’ said Hélène, but she didn’t. She didn’t see at all. Why hadn’t Maman told her what she’d done? Then she remembered the visit Madame Sauze had made to the Avenue Ste Anne the previous week. Had she come there looking for work? Hélène was at a loss and said lamely, ‘How long have you been here, Annette?’