‘Annette’s married?’ asked Hélène, startled.

‘Yes, or at least she was, but her husband died in the flu epidemic soon after, so now she’s a widow.’

‘Oh, poor Annette,’ cried Hélène. ‘How awful!’

‘Yes, it’s very sad for her. Still, what I was going to tell you is that after Madame Sauze came to see me, I decided to employ them both, just over the wedding period to begin with, so you mustn’t be surprised to see them about the house. Agathe Sauze is helping Madame Choux, taking on some of the more mundane housekeeping jobs, and Annette is a general maid-of-all-work.’

‘That explains it,’ exclaimed Hélène. ‘I saw Annette just now and—’

‘You’ve seen her?’ interrupted Rosalie. ‘And did you speak with her?’

‘Yes, of course,’ answered Hélène. ‘Why?’

‘And what did she say?’

‘Nothing much. I was surprised to see her and asked why she was here. She told me you’d just hired her and Madame Sauze to work here over the wedding.’ Hélène gave a slight smile and added, ‘She called me “miss”.’

‘As indeed she should,’ said Rosalie. ‘I know you knew each other as children, but that was long ago. Now the situation is quite different.’ She paused and, looking speculatively at her daughter, said, ‘How did you think she looked?’

Hélène frowned. ‘What do you mean, Maman? How did she look?’

‘I just wondered if you recognised her easily.’

‘Well, yes, she hadn’t changed much. A bit older, of course, and a bit fatter than I remembered, but she looked much as she did before. Why?’

Rosalie shrugged. ‘No reason. You’ve changed as you’ve grown up and I wondered if she’d done the same – if she was different, you know, having been married.’

‘She seemed sad, somehow, but if her husband has died recently that’s to be expected, isn’t it?’

‘Of course,’ agreed her mother, and she got to her feet. ‘Now I must go and get changed for this evening.’ She smiled across at her daughter. ‘After the wedding, when you’re really out, it’ll be your turn to find a husband!’

In her boudoir Rosalie prepared to change into evening dress. She was content with her conversation with Hélène. Clearly Annette had not mentioned her pregnancy, and Hélène had not recognised it for what it was. She would have to know in the end of course, when the baby was born, but the less she knew in the meantime, the better.

It was the next day before Rosalie was able to send for her housekeeper. Madame Choux joined her in the morning room once the breakfast had been cleared away and stood waiting, her face stony, her hands folded across her stomach.

‘Good morning, Madame Choux,’ Rosalie said, looking up from the page she had been writing on. ‘How has everything been since I was away?’

‘Fair to middling, madame,’ replied Madame Choux. ‘We’ve all been preparing for the arrival of Mr Georges and his family. I believe the nursemaid is coming with them. I’ve put a truckle bed into the night nursery so that she will be close to the children.’