Chapter 12

The day of Clarice’s wedding dawned bright and clear. When Hélène threw back her bedroom curtains and opened the window, the sun streamed in and the dawn chorus was filling the garden with birdsong. She sat on her window seat and looked at the beautifully tended garden, the flowerbeds a riot of colour. Seen from above, the parterre that lay just below her window was a waggon wheel with a fountain at its hub. Hélène had always loved it, the immaculately clipped box hedges, the smooth gravel of its pathways. She found such order soothing; she often sat at her window looking out into the cool of the early morning garden, watching the sun rise over the orchard to begin its journey to evening, when it would sink at last behind the distant hills, no more than smudges in the west.

Today there was already activity in the garden as Patrice and his assistant walked the pathways, deadheading any plant that had dared to fade before Miss Clarice’s special day. The gardeners were not the only ones abroad. From round the stable block beyond the corner of the house came the laughter of children, and as Hélène watched she saw her brother Georges’s offspring, five-year-old Monique and three-year-old Clément, appear with their nursemaid, Delphine. They were to carry their Aunt Clarice’s train as she walked down the aisle and had been bursting with pride the previous evening when they had finally been allowed to try on their wedding clothes. Now they were running ahead of Delphine, shrieking with laughter as two of the dogs gallivanted about them, tails wagging furiously and barking. When they looked up and saw her at her window, Hélène waved to the delighted children and felt her heart lift at their excitement. Today was going to be special, she just knew it. A perfect day. She loved Clarice dearly and wished her every happiness on this her wedding day.

In the last few days the whole house had been buzzing with preparation and there had been no rest for anyone. With Rosalie’s consent, Madame Sauze had gradually taken over duties as the housekeeper when Madame Choux, beginning to founder with all the extra organisation and work to be done, withdrew to the sanctuary of her parlour with a fit of the megrims. The rest of the servants, including Yvette, Madame St Clair’s maid, and Pierre the coachman, had accepted their arrival readily enough, and once Annette had made clear her pregnancy would not affect her work, it was never mentioned again. Even the dignified Didier relaxed a little, particularly towards Agathe, treating her almost as an equal. It was clear that below stairs everyone was determined that Miss Clarice’s day should be perfect, that nothing should go awry.

With so much to do, Annette and Agathe had seen little of each other during the days. It was only as they crawled wearily into their beds at the end of each evening that they saw each other alone and had the chance to speak.