Despite the Angels - By Madeline A Stringer Page 0,60

of the vineyard may choose the wages and the workers have no right to complain. Now get out and say no more, before you find yourself without any job at all.”

“Oh, Daniel, shame on you, using that story. These men have not enough, he is right, even though he is a fool. And new times are coming, I have had a look at Paris. It is not a pretty sight. Talk to Eloise anyway. Give them some money, enough to save a bit for the lean times.” Jotin drew Daniel’s attention back to the vats, to allow him time to mull over what had been said while engaged in repetitively calming work.

Daniel sat on the terrace, deep in thought. He did not notice the evening light, or the familiar noises that usually soothed him at the end of the day, because his mind was in Paris, remembering a visit there years ago and trying to picture it now. He would have to get more information about what was happening there. How could ‘the people’ suddenly be in charge? Did he mean the Third Estate, the ordinary people? How could that be, what about the nobles? What about the King? Surely he would always be in control, he was the King, after all, appointed by God to rule France. It was not his fault he was King, it happened if your father was king. No escape. Just like me, Daniel thought ruefully, I only own this estate because Papa died. No-one asked me if I wanted to be born here and produce wheat and wine.

“Well, not strictly true, but you don’t remember us asking. At the time you were quite keen on living in a château near the village where Alessia was likely to choose to be born as Eloise. It is so funny that you don’t remember discussing it with her. But it has to be that way, or you would not be able to choose now. Make a good choice now. Let go of your irritation with Roki’s boy and give them all a bit of money. Might be best for you, too.”

Nicholas is an idiot, thought Daniel. Jealous of me! Eloise has not once mentioned Nicholas to me. His thoughts stopped, as a new one arrived – maybe she had never mentioned Nicholas because there was something to hide? I’ll ask her sometime. His eyes followed the flight of a swallow, swooping over the barns in search of dinner, its forked tail flicking this way and that as it steered past the best morsels. The trees were loud with the song of the cicadas. The sun was setting and the countryside was settling down under the soupy air, with only a small movement in it to carry away the perspiration that was prickling out on Daniel’s face.

Eloise came out onto the terrace, fanning herself. There were damp circles under her arms and tendrils of hair stuck to her forehead.

“Bonsoir Monsieur. Pascale is bringing some white wine. It is too hot for the red.” She plopped down onto the rocking chair and pushed it a little with her foot, trying to make some more movement of the air. “I left Marie-Claire inside, it is a tiny bit cooler there. She does not like feeding in this heat, we get so sweaty where we touch.”

Daniel felt himself perking up a little as this image went through his mind, rather quickly, before it flowed downwards, causing a slight frisson as it went. He grinned at his wife, forgetting momentarily the worries of the morning, which had been followed by grovelling apologies from the foreman and mutterings through the workforce.

“I suppose we could try producing some sweat ourselves….” He broke off as Pascale came out onto the terrace with a tray. She had brought the wine and glasses and also a plate of slices of saucisson and pickles. She put these onto the table and with an exaggerated curtsey to Daniel and a mischievous grin at Eloise, fled back inside. Daniel raised his eyebrows in a question at Eloise.

“Did she hear me? I mean, did she understand?”

“Yes, and probably yes,” said Eloise, smiling at his obvious discomfiture, “she’s a peasant, remember? Not a protected flower from the aristocracy. She knows what goes on, how could she not, there are only two rooms in the cottage. Not a lot of privacy, you hear most things. And smell them. We know what our parents and our brothers were doing.” She blushed, thinking she had