Rupert turned his head and, lifting one eyebrow, remarked, ‘I was not aware that you were engaged to Miss St Clair.’

Simon reddened. ‘There is an understanding between us,’ he said stiffly.

‘I see,’ Rupert said lightly. ‘Thank you for telling me. Have you told Miss Hélène yet?’

When Simon made no answer, Rupert said, ‘I see. Well, I’ll bid you good afternoon, monsieur.’ And with a languid lift of his hand in farewell, he set off along the footpath to the village.

Simon Barnier watched him go, anger burning inside him – anger that Hélène, whom he already regarded as his future wife, had been alone with the upstart Englishman, a nobody who had invaded their local society, and more at the invidious thought that somehow the Englishman had just bested him in their exchange.

Chapter 19

When Hélène reached the house she went straight to her mother’s private parlour, rapped on the door and without waiting for an answer walked in. Rosalie was sitting at her little writing desk in the window, and she looked up, startled.

‘Hélène!’ she exclaimed. ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Seeing at once from her daughter’s tear-streaked cheeks and reddened eyes that she had been crying, she got to her feet and reached for her hand, repeating more gently, ‘Hélène, whatever is the matter? What has happened?’

‘Annette’s baby is dead,’ she cried. ‘Her baby is dead. He was born dead, but you didn’t tell me.’

‘Darling girl,’ began her mother, ‘there was nothing you could do. There was nothing any of us could do. It is very sad, of course, but really Annette’s baby is nothing to do with us.’

‘Of course it’s to do with us,’ snapped Hélène. ‘She works for us. She had her baby in this house and it died.’

Rosalie stared at her. ‘Who told you that?’ she demanded. ‘Who says the baby was born here at Belair?’

‘Never mind how I know, Maman,’ Hélène almost shouted, ‘I know.’

She was not yet ready to admit that she had been to the village alone to see Annette. If she hoped to do it again it was better that no one knew about that.

Still, the angry words poured out of her. ‘She was my friend. She’s lost her husband and now she’s lost her baby, and you sent her away. You didn’t even let her stay here with Madame Sauze. She needed our help, but you sent her away, and now she might die too, and it’s all your fault!’

Rosalie’s face hardened. ‘I won’t be spoken to like that, miss,’ she said harshly. ‘You may go to your room and stay there until I come to speak to you. Do you understand?’

The habit of obedience made Hélène turn to the door, but she paused with her hand on the handle and said, ‘I understand, Mother. You’ve made yourself very clear!’ Then she raised her chin and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

For a moment Rosalie stared at the closed door and then she sank down onto a chair, suddenly exhausted. How could Hélène have discovered that the baby had been born here, upstairs? Only one person could have told her, and with sudden anger Rosalie got to her feet and rang the bell for Madame Sauze.