Alexandra was hurt on Stéphie’s behalf. The little girl had been so careful with the glasses, putting a cloth in the sink and on the drainer, washing one glass at a time. Had she been nearer she’d have said something. She muttered all this to David who said, ‘Just as well you’re not nearer, then. The nanny can’t snap at the mistress of the house even if she’s an ex-mistress – ex-wife – something! Can you be an ex-mistress?’
Alexandra laughed, and caught Maxime’s eye. He raised his glass to her and she nodded in reply.
She was just beginning to relax – the guests were now all eating grapes and cheese and generally shedding their best-behaviour manners for something less formal – when David suddenly frowned.
‘Hello! Who’s this arriving in such a beautiful car?’
Alexandra turned and saw a cream-coloured Rolls-Royce with its top down proceeding down the drive. She felt hot and cold at the same time and ended up feeling sick. ‘Oh my God!’ she said. ‘It’s my relations!’
Chapter Twelve
Alexandra had time to inspect her relations as they disembarked from the vintage Rolls-Royce that had transported them for fifteen years or so. Her cousin Hubert was at the wheel. He was in his early thirties, slightly bald, with sloping shoulders and a weak chin. He was, Alexandra knew, the one everyone wanted her to marry. No one wanted her fortune to go out of the family.
His passengers were older, early sixties but full of energy. Cousin Clothilde and Cousin Aimée, elegantly dressed, wearing hats, emerged, looking around them with evident approval.
‘Alexandra!’ said Aimée, seeing her there on the doorstep. ‘How very – rural you look.’
Alexandra stepped forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Cousin Aimée. Did you tell me you were coming?’
‘No,’ said Clothilde crisply, ‘we thought it would be fun to surprise you.’
Alexandra’s mind flew back to that night in London, only a couple of months ago, when Clothilde and Aimée, accompanied by one of the older, male relations, had ‘surprised’ her when they descended on the family home in London where Alexandra was living. It had not been fun for anyone.
Antoine arrived at her side, making Alexandra suddenly feel supported and yet anxious. It was his house; all she had to do now was to explain why a Rolls full of her relations had just turned up on his doorstep. She swallowed. It was not going to be easy.
‘Antoine, may I introduce you—’ Then she remembered you were supposed to introduce the man to the woman first. ‘Clothilde, may I introduce you to the Comte de Belleville?’
She saw her cousin’s naturally haughty expression soften as she heard the word ‘Comte’ and the rest of the introductions went well.
Antoine was supremely gracious about this sudden invasion. ‘Please do come in. Would you like to refresh yourselves …?’ He turned to Alexandra.
‘Do follow me,’ she said, ‘I’ll show you to the … ladies’ room.’ She didn’t quite know how to describe the room to which she was leading them. ‘Downstairs loo’ didn’t really cover it. It had probably been built for some other purpose. It was fairly large, had a small sofa in it, and Stéphie had filled it with flowers and bunches of dried lavender. Alexandra was grateful that they’d been expecting Grand-mère for lunch. Because of her, there were beautifully embroidered antique linen hand towels and eau de cologne on the dressing table.
While her cousins were making themselves comfortable, Alexandra looked in the mirror in the hall, aware that ‘rural’ probably meant ‘peasant-like’. She was wearing her favourite dress from the market and had tied her hair back using the belt of the dress as an Alice band; she had espadrilles on her feet. With no make-up, she looked about twelve. She hadn’t been dressing for her starchy relations that morning – she’d been dressing for Lucinda, who, she realised, was the sort of woman who would be jealous of any other woman just because she was female. Thus, Alexandra had tried to look as young and nanny-like as possible. David had said she’d pulled it off perfectly. She could hardly run upstairs and put on her kitten heels now!
‘I think Antoine has taken Hubert outside to join the party,’ Alexandra said when her cousins emerged. ‘We’ll join them.’
Don’t give them a choice of where to go, she thought; just put them where you want them.
‘You call your employer by his Christian name?’ asked Aimée. ‘Is that usual?’
‘I’ve never thought about it.’ Alexandra refused to sound apologetic, although now it was pointed out to her, it probably was a bit odd. ‘He asked me to.’
‘Very well. Let us meet the family. I must say, Alexandra, it was something of a relief to us to see you were employed by the aristocracy. I do hope your French is improving because of it.’
‘Monsieur,’ said Clothilde, when her party had consumed some bread, cheese and apple crumble, served to them by David, who was fascinated to see the relations Alexandra had talked to him about so often, but whom he had never met. ‘I think we should talk. We need to discuss how long Alexandra will be here.’
‘We should,’ agreed Antoine. ‘Would you like to come with me? Do, please, bring your wine,’ he said to Hubert.
‘I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind,’ said Hubert.
Although she had not been invited, Alexandra went too. She felt she needed to be there, although she didn’t blame Hubert from wanting a short break from his tiring female relatives.
They went to the salon, which suddenly, Alexandra noticed, looked faded and in elegant disrepair. There was a long streak of damp next to the window, partly obscured by curtains which had obviously been there a very long time.
‘Monsieur,’ said Clothilde again as soon as everyone was seated. ‘How long do you need Alexandra?’
Alexandra coughed loudly. She wasn’t a piece of furniture being lent out. ‘I want to stay until the children are – settled.’
