Page 71 of Echo in the Wind

Taking Donet’s hand, Zoé walked beside them as they headed toward the door.

Inside, a young dark-haired maid hurried toward the housekeeper. “Some refreshments for Monsieur le comte, Sophie.”

The maid gave Donet a startled glance and curtsied before rushing through a door on the other side of the entry.

The entry hall was large, its floor black and white marble tiles that reminded Joanna of a checkerboard. Because of the many windows, no candles would be required during the day, but a huge crystal chandelier hung above them with candles ready to be lit.

In front of her, a wide curving staircase led to the next level.

“Where is the butler?” Donet asked, looking around. “And the footmen?”

“The butler, Lefèvre, retained by your brother, is around somewhere. A most unusual man, that one, but efficient. And there are still a few footmen, maids and, of course, the groom and stable boys. But after the funeral, some of the servants left. Alas, the child’s governess has gone as well.”

“I did not like that one,” said Zoé, still holding Donet’s hand. “She was very strict.”

As if in explanation, the housekeeper said, “Like you, Monsieur, the child has a mind of her own.”

Donet smiled with approval at the child. Joanna had no doubt that Donet, as a child, possessed a strong will for he did to this day. Perhaps this niece of his would be the same. Someone should warn the men of France in years to come.

Marguerite continued. “You will remember the old maître du château.” Donet nodded. “Monsieur Giroud is just now inspecting the vines with one of the workers.”

“Well,” Donet said to M’sieur Bequel, “it appears we have much to do.”

To their right, a parlor beckoned and Donet led them to it. “We might as well make ourselves at home. You will see about rooms for my guests, Marguerite?”

She dipped her head. “Oui, Monsieur.”

The parlor was not unlike those in fine London homes but reflected more of antiquity. The walls were high and much of them covered with large tapestries, bucolic scenes of people enjoying themselves beneath trees in the countryside. Over the fireplace’s mantel of white marble hung a tall mirror between crystal sconces.

Scattered around the room, she counted six chairs and two sofas. On one end of the room sat a pedestal table holding a bouquet of pink and white roses in a large vase.

The floor was inlaid parquet, small squares of oak set at angles to each other, making a beautiful pattern around the edges of the cream and rose carpet.

Observing her interest in the polished floor, Donet said, “There is much of it at Versailles. The parquet is easier to maintain than tile.”

A man appeared at the doorway dressed in a suit of bright orange brocade, his stockings white silk above his silver-buckled black shoes. His hair was the color of walnuts and his face looked ancient, his leathery skin wrinkled like a prune. Joanna could not tell if he was a guest or part of the household.

When he saw Donet, he stared as if in shock. Then, in a flourish, he bowed. “Monsieur le comte, I am your butler, Lefèvre. The maid told me you had arrived, but I must say I am astounded. You look so like your brother, it is as if he were here with us again. Welcome to your home.”

“Lefèvre,” Donet said, returning the butler a small smile, “it is good to meet you. I have brought guests. My quartermaster M’sieur Bequel and Lady Joanna West. Her maid, Gabrielle, accompanies her.”

The butler dipped his head to the quartermaster and bowed before Joanna.

“Do you require anything, Monsieur?” he asked Donet.

“Nothing now, but later I would like to go over the accounts with you.”

“As you wish, Monsieur. I am at your service.” Lefèvre bowed again and disappeared through the doorway.

Jean escorted Joanna to a chair as Sophie returned with a tray of wine, bread, cheese and fruit. After they were served, Madame Travere asked the maid to show Gabrielle to the room for Joanna and to make ready the rooms for the other guests. “Sophie can show you the servants’ quarters as well,” she said to Gabrielle.

With a nod from Joanna, Gabrielle followed Sophie out of the room.

Donet, M’sieur Bequel and Joanna sat in chairs facing the housekeeper. Little Zoé chose to stand next to Donet, a gesture Joanna found endearing. Obviously, the girl had loved her papa very much and now that his equal was here, she was not letting him out of her sight.

Zoé could have passed for Donet’s child, a pretty little thing with hair almost as dark as the comte’s, but she had lighter eyes.

Jean looked into the face of the housekeeper he had known as a youth, thankful for her presence at this difficult time. Though older and her face lined from the years, she remained the stalwart soul she had always been, a safe harbor in a storm. Even when his father had cast him out, she had been sympathetic. “Marguerite, what can you tell me about the death of my father and brother?”