‘Good.’ Rosalie got to her feet and picked up her notebook. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Agathe; we need someone with sound common sense. I will see Annette later. I believe she and Hélène have already spoken, and I have explained to Hélène about Annette’s husband. She quite understands and, having every sympathy for Annette, will ask her no questions. I want to ensure that there are no upsets before Clarice’s big day.’

Chapter 11

Rosalie was not the only one who was determined that nothing should spoil the special event. The day before the wedding, Suzanne Barrineau sat alone in the drawing room of Montmichel, waiting to receive their unexpected guest from London, her mind seething with resentment. How could Lucas have invited someone he hardly knew, foisting some unknown Englishman onto them like this? They had received a second telegram last evening announcing the time of his arrival in St Etienne today and clearly expecting someone to be at the station to meet him. How inconsiderate of this young man simply to assume he was welcome to stay at Montmichel as if he were one of the family, or even an old friend.

‘But I invited him to,’ Lucas had pointed out patiently when Suzanne again confronted him with this. ‘He’s a great fellow. You’ll like him. He’s good-looking, charming and, Mother, very well bred!’ It was the well bred part that Lucas emphasised. To his mother, breeding was everything.

‘You will be here to greet him,’ she said.

‘No, I’m afraid not, Mother. You know I am to lunch at Belair tomorrow, but he won’t mind, he’s a capital fellow. You know lunch tomorrow will be the last time I shall see Clarice before we meet at the Mairie. Don’t worry. I will be back in plenty of time for dinner, and you will be here to make him welcome, won’t you?’

Suzanne reluctantly agreed she would, but with a mutinous expression on her face. Lucas leaned forward and kissed her powdered cheek. ‘Knew I could rely on you, Maman,’ he said.

Rupert was met at the station by Lucien, the Barrineaux’ taciturn groom, who, having greeted him politely, drove all the way to Montmichel in complete silence. Rupert, unperturbed by the quiet, looked with interest at the village as they passed through its centre. The place was not large but had some interesting buildings. The town hall was the most imposing, complete with arched windows, a clock tower and a fluttering flag. However, Rupert was more interested in the inn, Le Coq d’Argent. Rupert always liked to discover the local watering holes wherever he went, and Le Coq looked a decent sort of place. Perhaps there would be time for a glass of wine with Lucas before the big event. Lucien drove them out of the square and past the church, set upon its knoll. That must be where the wedding would take place tomorrow, Rupert thought. A pretty enough church if one had to get married, and with a slightly guilty smile he thought of Mary Dawson back at Pilgrim’s Oak and was glad he did not.