She hurried up the stairs and, on opening the bedroom door, found Annette sitting, pale-faced but dry-eyed, on the side of the bed.

‘Annette!’ she cried. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’ve wet myself,’ Annette replied bleakly. ‘In front of the whole room!’

‘No, you haven’t,’ said Agathe, going over to sit beside her and taking her hands. ‘Your waters have broken. It’s a sign that the baby is coming. Are you having pains?’

‘No. Yes. Well, some backache, it comes and goes, but that’s from carrying those heavy buckets this morning.’

‘No, Annette, it’s not. I think you’re in labour.’

As she spoke Annette was gripped by a sudden pain, making her gasp and grip Agathe’s hands so tightly that it hurt. After a few moments she relaxed again.

‘Your baby is on its way,’ Agathe said gently. ‘Very soon you will be a mother… something I’ve never been.’

‘You’ve been like a mother to me,’ responded Annette softly.

Agathe knew a moment’s warmth at the girl’s words, and then she was all practicalities.

‘We should prepare for the little one’s arrival,’ she said. ‘I think it’s too late and too difficult to get you to Madame Leclerc’s now. Lie back on your bed while I send Pierre to fetch her here.’

As she got downstairs Adèle Paquet came out of the kitchen. The cook caught her hand and asked, ‘Annette! What’s happening? Is she going to be all right?’

‘She’s gone into labour,’ replied Agathe. ‘We need to send for Madame Leclerc.’

‘But will she come?’

‘She has to.’ There was panic in Agathe’s voice. ‘Who else can deliver the baby? I’m going to find Madame and ask if Pierre may fetch her from the village. Will you go and sit with Annette, Adèle? Tell her I’ll be back in just a minute.’

The cook immediately started up the stairs and Agathe hurried out into the hallway in search of Madame St Clair, and there she found Hélène, standing talking to a gentleman she didn’t recognise. Even as she explained that she needed to speak to her mistress, Agathe realised what she was doing. How on earth could she interrupt Madame at her daughter’s wedding? She, Agathe, was in charge of the household servants. It was up to her to decide what they should do.

Leaving Hélène and the young man staring after her, she hurried back to the kitchen, where most of the servants were still gathered, and an expectant silence fell as she appeared.

‘Annette’s baby’s about to be born,’ she told them. ‘I’m sending Pierre for the midwife.’

She hurried out into the yard, where she found Pierre sitting on a bench outside the stables, having a last smoke before he turned in for the night.

‘Pierre,’ she cried when she saw him, ‘I need your help. Annette’s gone into labour. I need you to go to the village and fetch the midwife. Madame Leclerc.’

‘Madame Leclerc? Where will I find her?’

‘She lives in the lane behind Le Coq d’Argent. Anyone will direct you. Hurry, Pierre, before it’s too late.’