‘We’re going to serve the food before the guests are too drunk to know what they’re eating. Delfosse will carry you into the dining room, Alexander. I think we need to make a move before the creature gets to the falling down stage of drunkenness.’

Alex sighed. ‘The sooner I can master walking with crutches the better.’

‘You will join us, won’t you?’ Rosalind asked anxiously. ‘Although you can have your meal here, if you’d rather.’

‘No, I’ll suffer the brute manhandling me, but only if I sit next to you, Rosie.’ He gave Hester a mischievous smile. ‘She keeps me in order, Hester.’

‘Someone has to,’ Hester said, sniffing. ‘Come with me, Rosie. Agathe can’t manage on her own and I don’t want Madame Planche interfering in the kitchen.’

Rosalind handed her untouched cup of punch to Alex. ‘Drink this,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It will deaden the pain.’ She followed Hester to the kitchen where she was met by the delicious aroma of roast goose, and plum pudding steaming gently over a saucepan of hot water.

The guests were seated around the great table in the dining room, which was lit by all the spare candles that Rosalind had been able to find. It was mid-afternoon but it was dusk outside and the roaring log fire crackled and spat in the enormous stone fireplace, entertaining the party with a miniature firework display. Delfosse had brought half a dozen bottles of claret from the cellar and he saw to it that Alex’s glass was never empty. Rosalind could tell from Alex’s ashen cheeks that he was in a great deal of pain, but she knew better than to fuss over him. She could feel Hester’s gaze upon her and she met her look with an attempt at a casual smile.

The meal began with vegetable soup followed by the roast goose, which Hester carved expertly. There were roast potatoes and parsnips, with a large dish of buttered cabbage, and rich gravy. All this was followed by plum pudding and brandy butter. It was a very traditional English Christmas dinner, but their French guests seemed to enjoy it and even Madame Planche found little to criticise. Colonel Munday could not praise the cooks enough and he ate until his face was as red as the claret in his glass.

Father Laurent had to leave soon after they finished eating as he had services to perform and Madame Fournier accompanied him. Colonel Munday fell asleep in his chair, and Delfosse was just sober enough to carry Alex back to his bed in the drawing room. The last Rosalind saw of Delfosse was when he and Madame Planche staggered off to their own quarters, each carrying a bottle of claret.