‘Are you cold as well?’ Rupert asked, longing to put a protective arm about her shoulders, but knowing it was far too soon.

‘I think I’d like to fetch a shawl,’ Hélène replied. ‘It will be cold when we see Clarice and Lucas into their carriage.’ There was still a scattering of people in the garden, but everyone knew that the day was drawing to a close.

They walked into the house and Rupert waited in the candlelit hallway while Hélène ran up the stairs to find a wrap. When she came back downstairs, they were about to return to the pavilion when the door from the servants’ quarters opened and an elderly woman hurried through. She came to an abrupt halt as she saw the couple standing in the hall.

‘Madame Sauze?’ Hélène looked at her in surprise. ‘Is there anything wrong?’

‘No, no, Miss Hélène, but I need to speak with your mother.’

‘She’s in the pavilion,’ replied Hélène. ‘Can I give her a message?’

‘No, no, it’s not that important. I will speak with her later, when her guests have gone.’ And with that she hurriedly withdrew through the door, which closed softly behind her.

‘Who was that?’ Rupert asked.

‘It’s Madame Sauze, the housekeeper.’ She paused and then added, ‘She seemed worried, didn’t she?’

‘A little agitated,’ agreed Rupert.

‘Yes, that’s what I thought. It’s probably nothing, but we should return to the pavilion and I’ll mention it to Maman.’

As they turned to go through to the garden, she rested her hand on his sleeve, smiling up at him confidingly, and Rupert had to catch his breath and fight the urge to pull her into his arms.

Chapter 15

It was the end of a long day and in the Belair kitchen there was a general feeling of relief; at last they could begin to relax. Miss Clarice’s wedding day was almost over and all had been well.

There had been a hectic two hours while the meal was being served, when everyone in the kitchen was at full stretch, but there had been no hitches. Clarice and Lucas’s wedding feast had proceeded exactly according to plan. Didier, dignified as always, had presided in the pavilion and had no problem instructing the waiters hired in for the day. In the kitchen Monsieur Antoine had worked his magic and the exceptional dishes prepared under his eagle eye had been sent out to the guests with smooth efficiency.

Now the tables had been cleared, the remnants of the food were in the cool of the pantry and the piles of dirty plates were stacked up in the scullery to be washed later. Food had been sent out to the visiting coachmen, who waited patiently for the carriages they drove to be summoned, but the household staff were called to eat in the kitchen and there was a welcome respite as everyone sat down at the table.

Leaving nothing to chance, Didier was still busy within the pavilion, making sure that the gentlemen were not short of wine, or following the meal, a cognac or a glass of port; that the ladies, still seated, were supplied with dishes of sweetmeats and their glasses were topped up with cordial or sweet wine.