Rupert realised that he must move swiftly to make his claim, for if he were Simon Barnier, he would be losing no time in approaching Hélène’s father. He wished there were some way that he could reach Hélène’s heart, but until they could meet socially there would be little he could do.

When he reached his chamber he crossed to the window again and looked down into the lane. The sun was lower in the sky now and much of the street was in shadow, but a single shaft of sunlight probed between the tall chimneys of Le Coq d’Argent and directed itself onto the green-painted door of the house Hélène had visited. As he stared at it, it seemed to shine like a beacon in the shadowy lane, pointing the way forward.

Could he go there? he wondered. Could he, a complete stranger, simply knock on the front door and ask how the poor distressed mother did? What was her name? Annette, that was it, Annette. What reason could he give to the woman who lived there? Could he say he came from Annette’s friend to ask how she did, or if she were in need of anything? Medicine? Special foods to tempt an invalid? Surely they would send him packing. No gentleman would even consider visiting a woman he had never met as she languished in her bed. Perhaps he could keep watch for when Hélène made a return visit and meet her once again quite casually in the village. No! He had already decided that there must be no deception in his suit. If her family thought he had been lying in wait to catch her on her own, that would be the end of any chance for him. He must, as his old nanny used to say, possess his soul in patience.

Chapter 20

The next afternoon Pierre the coachman drove Hélène and Agathe into the village so that they could visit Annette. The lane was too narrow for the chaise, so he left it in the inn yard and accompanied the two ladies on foot to the house with the green door, carrying the small bag of Annette’s clothes and other necessaries Madame Sauze had brought with her. Madame Leclerc opened the door and, taking the bag, Madame Sauze stepped forward to enter. On the threshold Hélène turned back and said, ‘Just wait for us at the inn, Pierre. We’ll come and find you when we’re ready to go home.’

‘Yes, Miss Hélène,’ replied Pierre, thinking as he did so how much she had changed in the last few days. Gone was the girl he had known nearly all her life, always getting in and out of scrapes but daring and brave, and in her place was a young woman, giving orders with the calm confidence of her mother.

A far cry from the little girl who had thrown cabbages at the Prussian soldiers when they had paraded through the streets of Paris, he thought now. It won’t be long before she’s married and running her own household, and what will happen to poor Annette then?