years.’
Louise, distress clouding her face, reached across the table and put her hand over his. She had been dreading this moment when their conversation would turn inevitably to his home. ‘I have some bad news to tell you, Alexandre.’
His face stiffened. ‘What happened? Was it looted?’
‘Worse than that.’ Her clasp tightened. ‘It was burned down during the time Delphine and I were hiding in Pierre’s cellar. Pierre said that the soldiers broke into the wine cellar and went on a drunken rampage.’
Alexandre looked down at her hand, automatically returning her clasp. ‘Blanche and I have always thought of our time here as a transitory period before going home again one day to our roots.’ He was silent for a few moments. Then he raised his head and looked at her. ‘At least I’ve heard the news from you, who spent almost as much time in my home as Blanche and I did in yours.’
‘You still have your grandmother’s estate.’
He shook his head. ‘Neither Blanche nor I would ever have wanted to live there. Before we left the property, I sold it all to a neighbour who had always wanted my grandmother to sell the land to him, since his own ran alongside its boundaries. I told him why I was taking my wife out of France, but he was undeterred by the unrest at the time, believing that everything would settle down again. How mistaken he was!’ He looked down unseeingly at her hand, frowning thoughtfully. ‘So, my château has gone to ashes. I didn’t know I was burning my boats completely in bringing Blanche to the New World.’ Again he sat in silence, coming to terms with the destruction of his hopes of ever returning home, and she felt full of pity for him. Then resolutely he raised his head and spoke on a brighter note, not aware that sadness still lingered in his eyes. ‘Now that’s enough about the past. How soon can you and Delphine visit us? Blanche will be impatient to see you again.’
‘And I to see her and Henrietta. It can’t be yet, but it will be as soon as possible.’
Alexandre walked back with her to the horse market, where they parted affectionately with promises to keep in touch. Then he left to go about his own business and she to find Mr Pomfret. Although she ran most of the way back to the shop, Miss Sullivan was still furious that she had taken so long over her errand.
In spite of her insignificant position in the workshop, Louise continued to be highly ambitious. Unlike Delphine, who resented every day there, she welcomed the chance to learn everything about the millinery trade. She had soon found that Miss Sullivan was receptive to her suggestions as to how the straw hats could vary in shape and trimmings. It led to her taking part sometimes in making the other millinery, which she enjoyed, and it also brought about a slight increase in her wages. Delphine made no attempt to hide her boredom, and was often slow in finishing a task. Louise began to fear that she would be dismissed once the stock of straw hats was deemed sufficient.
By now the two apprentices had mastered the intricate straw-weaving and Louise saw a chance to get Delphine work that should be of more interest to her. All the hats sold by Miss Sullivan were in the height of fashion, abundantly and elaborately trimmed with flowers, feathers and fancily tied bunches of ribbons, which she ordered regularly from a supplier.
‘My sister is skilful at making flowers and trimmings out of silk ribbons and other materials,’ Louise said to the milliner when the opportunity arose. ‘She made the pink roses on her straw hat.’
Miss Sullivan had noticed that they were exceptionally well made and thought immediately of the money she could save if Delphine’s work kept up to that standard all the time. ‘Very well. I’ll let your sister show me what she can do.’
Delphine took up the new work without enthusiasm, even though it appealed to her artistic nature and the milliner was pleased with the results. It