When the housekeeper came in answer to its summons, her mistress was standing in the middle of the room, her face a mask of anger.

‘You rang, madame?’

‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t send you packing,’ came the ice-cold reply. ‘How dare you speak to my daughter about that cheap maid, Annette? I told you right from the outset that if ever you broke your word to me, your given word, you would be out of the house within the hour. So, Madame Agathe Sauze, what have you to say for yourself, eh? Why should I not dismiss you here and now?’

Agathe, surprised at this sudden and unjustified onslaught, spoke calmly. ‘Because I have not broken my word, madame.’

‘You must have done. Hélène knows not only that the baby was born here, but that it was stillborn. Only you could have told her.’

‘But I did not,’ Agathe said steadily. ‘Miss Hélène saw Annette being taken to the village in the waggon early next morning, and when she came to ask me what was happening I referred her to you.’

Rosalie coloured. For the moment she had forgotten the conversation she had had with her daughter the morning of the ball. She had answered that Annette was being moved to the home of the midwife. But she had given no indication that the child had been stillborn, or that it had been born at all. She had been determined that the celebrations of Clarice’s wedding should not be overshadowed by the private tragedy of one of her servants.

‘As you instructed, madame,’ went on Agathe, ‘every care was taken that no one should suspect that the child had already been born when Annette left the house. The only other person who knew apart from the midwife was Madame Paquet, who, understanding your wishes in the matter, I am certain will not have spoken of it to Miss Hélène.’

For a moment Rosalie did not respond; she stood, her expression fixed, her hands clasped together in front of her, gripping each other as if she were trying to control them.

The silence extended between them and eventually Agathe broke it, saying, ‘However, madame, if you no longer accept my word, I shall pack my things and leave your employ today.’

‘No, no,’ Rosalie said testily. ‘There is no need for that. But how did she find out, Agathe? Who knows, and who told Hélène?’

Accepting that this was as near to an apology as she was going to get, Agathe shook her head. ‘I don’t know, madame. You will have to ask her.’

‘I shall,’ said Rosalie. ‘She is in her room, where she will remain for the rest of the day. Perhaps you could arrange for a tray to be taken up to her later.’

‘Yes, madame.’ Agathe’s voice was that of the perfect servant. ‘If that is all?’

‘It is for now,’ Rosalie replied, and then almost as an afterthought she asked, ‘How is Annette?’