In the few weeks that she had been at Belair, Pierre had grown fond of the new maid, the strange girl who had arrived so unexpectedly. He didn’t know if she was actually a widow, but he didn’t really mind one way or the other. What he did know was that she was a woman adrift, having to make her own way in the world, and he had come to admire her courage.

When she had been brought downstairs on that dreadful morning, he had put his arms round her and lifted her gently onto the waggon. He had felt the warmth of her body against his. She felt small and frail in his arms. He suddenly felt protective and found himself reluctant to set her down. He had looked into her face and seen it white with pain and exhaustion and he’d wanted to hold her to him, to comfort her and say everything would be all right.

It wasn’t all right, of course, but at the time Pierre had not known that it was all too late. The midwife had clambered up beside her, and she had been carrying a small bundle in her arms. At the time he had assumed it was necessaries belonging to Annette, but he was sure now that it must have been the tiny body of the baby. He had heard nothing since, except that the baby had been stillborn. Since then, for the first time in his thirty-five years, he’d begun wondering if it was time to think of getting married and settling down. He longed to know how Annette was, wished he could go to see her, but knew that was impossible. The intrusion of a man into her sorrow was the last thing she would want. However, he decided he could ask Miss Hélène how she was faring on the way home today; nothing could be more natural.

As Pierre was waiting with the chaise, Hélène and Agathe were taken upstairs to Annette’s room. She was out of bed now, sitting in a chair, wrapped in a blanket. She looked up as the door opened, expecting it to be Estelle Leclerc. When she saw the two women she gave the ghost of a smile.

Agathe stepped forward and, setting aside the bag of clothes, grasped Annette’s hands. ‘Are you feeling a little better, child?’ she asked gently. ‘Here’s Miss Hélène come to see you again as well.’

Estelle had followed them into the room, but knowing they would want to be left alone, she said, ‘I made some fresh lemonade this morning, Annette. Shall I go and fetch it? I’m sure your friends would like some refreshment on such a hot day.’

‘That would be most welcome,’ Agathe agreed. ‘Perhaps I could come and help you with the tray.’ So saying, she followed Estelle out of the room, leaving Annette and Hélène alone together.

‘They’ve put my Léon in the ground,’ Annette said bleakly. ‘They wouldn’t let me see him. They took him away and put him in the ground.’