a landowner; she took big risk, smiling at Mon Seigneur. Many aristocrats would have used her and cast her aside. But she had taken the risk and he had offered her marriage. She grinned at Daniel and he was happy, her spirits seemed to be lifted.
The picnic was arranged for three days later. The cook had worked hard, producing baskets full of terrines and patés, cold meats and ripe cheeses, their aromas escaping out of their straw wrappings and making everyone’s mouths water. There was bread, soft and crusty, and pastries and bottles of fruit juices, and of course, wine. Two carriages rattled up the drive shortly after breakfast and their neighbours from the next châteaux jumped down, full of excitement at being invited to join in. Madame deVrac rushed to greet them and there was a wonderful chaos as everyone milled around, getting in the way of the three musicians who had been hired from the village and who were packing their instruments onto one of the carts. Daniel put his own violin in too, though as he said to Eloise, if he wanted to dance he could not play – ‘or at least not very well!’ Eloise was installed on the other cart, on cushions, with the baby on her lap. Her spirits were still a bit low, but she expected they would improve soon. Rosemarie the midwife had visited and told her that many new mothers felt as she did, that it was maybe God’s way of making them rest instead of trying to work too hard, ‘and have no time to make milk for the baby’. So she was content to be tucked up in a rug on the cart and to watch idly as the countryside passed by. As they passed through the village she called out to many old friends, who ran over to kiss her and congratulate her on the arrival of ‘la petite’. Etienne the blacksmith came across and clasped her hand in his huge fist.
“I am so glad to see you well, ma petite,” he rumbled. “I was worried for you when Rosemarie was up at the château and so glad when she got home soon with the good news. Not a boy this time, he’ll have to try again for an heir, this one’s another little dancer for me to teach, do you think?”
Eloise laughed with him and settled back again, remembering the times when Etienne had allowed her to hold the horses while he shod them, trusting her to manage their huge power; and afterwards how he had taken out his fiddle and played and had showed her the steps to old dances, laughing that if she could dance well her feet would always avoid the hooves. But it was not necessary to avoid hooves with Etienne, he had such a way with animals. He was the doctor to all the local animals, just as his wife looked after most human maladies. Lost in a happy memory, Eloise began to relax and Daniel, watching from horseback, was pleased to see that his plan seemed to be working.
None of the party noticed the figure in a doorway at the far end of the street, hanging back, but unable to tear himself away from the sight of the woman he had hoped to win laughing so easily with another man. And such a man, thought Nicholas. Why did she have to get mixed up with the aristos? Bastards, every one of them. Look at them, three families, doing no work, able to take time to go on picnics, for God’s sake and still able to eat well! They will ruin her, my Eloise, he thought, turning away at last. She will turn into one of them, mother to another landowner in time. He shuddered, thinking of what would have to happen before Eloise could become mother to a boy and muttering set out back to his work.
The countryside became sandier and a salty tang drifted on the air. Daniel allowed his horse to walk beside the cart in which Eloise and Marie-Claire were riding. He could see Eloise’s face, she was looking into the middle distance, seeing nothing, but with a small smile on her lips. Daniel reached out with his riding crop and gently lifted a lock of her hair away from her face. Her smile broadened and slowly her eyes turned to his. They just looked at each other for a moment, but that was enough.
“Monsieur,” said Eloise, “is