Rosalind moved closer so that she could hold Piers’ hand. ‘Will he hear me if I speak to him, Sister Dominique?’

‘It can do no harm, Madame. I will be back later to check on Monsieur Blanchard.’ Sister Dominique let herself out into the corridor and a blast of cold air rushed into the room.

Rosalind was overcome with shame when she recalled her outburst earlier and she leaned over to kiss Piers gently on the lips. ‘You must get better now. When you are well enough we’ll take you to the château, and then I hope we will be able to go home.’

Piers’ eyelids flickered and he opened his eyes, staring at her blankly without any sign of recognition, which was the harshest blow of all. He closed his eyes again with a sigh, and Rosalind clutched his hand, holding it to her heart. ‘You are on the mend, Piers. Next time I come here perhaps you’ll realise it’s me, Rosie, your wife.’

She stayed with him for a while, hoping that he might respond to her presence again, but he seemed to have lapsed into unconsciousness and there seemed little point in staying. She left the hospital, having made Sister Dominique promise to let her know the moment Piers opened his eyes again.

The smell of hot rum punch wafted round the entrance hall as Agathe let Rosalind into the house. She held her hand out to take Rosalind’s cloak. ‘How is Monsieur Blanchard?’

‘He is getting better, Agathe. Or at least he opened his eyes, but he didn’t know me. However, the doctor seems hopeful.’

‘It is a Christmas miracle, Madame.’

‘Yes, of course it must be.’ Rosalind cocked her head on one side at the sound of laughter emanating from the drawing room. ‘Are the guests here?’

‘They are all very merry, Madame. The drink is making everyone happy.’

‘Then you must join us, Agathe. We are all going to sit round the table together.’

‘Madame Fournier will not approve.’

‘Leave her to me. It’s my house for the time being and I say that we all eat together at one table.’