Rupert, sitting in the row behind the Barrineau family, saw Clarice in all her happiness for the first time and thought he’d never seen such a beautiful girl, but that was until he saw the bridesmaids. As Hélène turned to pass Clarice’s two small attendants back to their mother on the other side of the church, he saw her face and changed his mind. Clarice was a woman who had the radiance of a bride who knew she was beautiful; the elder of the two bridesmaids who followed her seemed entirely unaware of her own dark beauty. Despite the fact that the bride was fair-haired and the bridesmaid was dark, there was a definite family likeness, enough for Rupert to be almost certain that they were sisters. Indeed, the third bridesmaid, though much younger, also had the family resemblance, though she still retained the chubbiness of face and form of a younger girl.

Rupert watched the proceedings with interest. He had never been inside a Catholic church before, let alone attended a service, and he was anxious not to remind his hosts that he was not a Catholic and probably should not have been allowed into the church at all. As he watched he thought about this. He had attended the village church with his family as a child, but since he had left home he had given very little thought to religion or God. He supposed that if he were anything, he was Church of England, but, he decided, mostly he wasn’t anything. He was relieved when only the bride and groom took Communion at the nuptial Mass.

When at last it was over and they had been blessed as man and wife in the eyes of God, the newly married couple left the church, Clarice proudly on Lucas’s arm. Standing aside in the porch, Rupert watched the bridesmaids gather round them in the churchyard. The elder of the two, dressed in the palest of yellow silk, was standing in a shaft of sunshine, and it seemed to Rupert that she stood in a halo of light. She was smiling as she remained with the excited children until their nursemaid stepped forward and led them away from the wedding party.

‘Who is she?’ he longed to ask another guest, but he knew no one well enough to pose the question. He continued to watch her until she was handed into a barouche by the bride’s father, also clearly her own.

Led by the bride and groom in the Barrineau landau, a procession of carriages passed back through the village, to the cheers of those watching. Hélène and Louise travelled to the house with their parents in the barouche.

‘Didn’t she look beautiful?’ Emile said. ‘Today I’m a very proud father.’

‘Only today, Papa?’ ventured Hélène.

‘Of course not!’ Emile exclaimed. ‘I’m always proud of her!’

‘He’s proud of all of you,’ Rosalie said, trying to smooth the thoughtlessness of his words, ‘and the children did very well, don’t you think?’