Read Online The Perfumer's Secret by Fiona McIntosh - Free Book Online Page B

everyone in the De Lasset home, fussed until a mug of sweetened milky coffee was pressed into my hands by one of the young women. Despite the warm night, it was exactly what I felt like after those few sips of cognac.
    ‘Thank you. What is your name?’
    ‘I am Jeanne, Madame.’
    ‘And what do you do in the house, Jeanne?’
    I noted the young woman look to her elder and Madame Mouflard gave a curt nod. ‘I am training to be your lady’s maid, Madame.’
    ‘Ah, that’s right. Madame Mouflard did mention this. You’re new, aren’t you?’ They hadn’t needed a lady’s maid in so long, it was clearly a novelty.
    ‘Er, yes, I am new. I began only a few days ago so I am feeling a little unsure.’ She blinked, wondering if she’d said too much but after another glance at her senior she continued. ‘I wanted to help you this evening but I was nervous and Madame Mouflard said you would probably appreciate privacy.’ She blushed, suddenly embarrassed she had referred to something she should not. I smiled to ensure she knew I’d taken no offence, despite the stiffening back of Madame Mouflard nearby. ‘I am not yet ready but I will be.’
    I glanced at our housekeeper. ‘Let Jeanne start immediately. We can teach and learn together.’
    She blinked. ‘Very good, Madame.’ She looked at Jeanne to say that was enough conversation. ‘Madame, perhaps I might introduce you to the rest of the staff here tonight?’ she offered. Like me, she was looking for anything to ease the tension.
    ‘A lovely idea,’ I agreed. ‘Please,’ I gestured.
    ‘Please meet Madame Clothilde. She is head of our kitchen.’
    ‘Madame Clothilde,’ I repeated, nodding at the flushed, round-faced woman watching me from small eyes. She curtsied, which set a trend.
    Names were cast my way and I received nods of heads in polite bows from the men while the women gave a brief curtsey. My memory delivered each into its own compartment in my mind; I knew, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t forget them. Even though I did not need to, I politely repeated their names with a smile to each.
    ‘I’m sure you will not remember all of us,’ Madame Mouflard continued, and I chose not to correct her.
    The uneasiness thrumming around us was intensifying. ‘Please sit,’ I urged, and people gratefully shuffled back to corners of the room or returned to their seats. ‘I’m sorry you are all up so late,’ I began and this was greeted with shrugs and tutting sounds that it didn’t matter. It didn’t, and neither did my weak apology.
    ‘Do we know anything?’ I wondered aloud, desperately feeling as though I needed to lead the staff through this uneasy time. And yet I was one of the youngest people in the room, with little experience of such adversity. All I had was entitlement and authority; it would have to be enough.
    ‘We’re hearing that our boys are already mobilising,’ said a man, looking dejected. He was nursing a wine.
    This was news to me. ‘Do you have sons, Pierre?’ He had been introduced as the head gardener and I didn’t need to look at Madame Mouflard to know she was impressed by my recall of his name.
    He nodded. ‘Two, Madame. One is nearing twenty-three, the other turned twenty-one in May. He’s at the beginning of his active duty. They’re both marching now, eager to be part of it even though they don’t have to formally depart for another nine hours,’ he said, sinking a gloomy swallow of his wine to drain the glass.
    I couldn’t blame him. Already my thoughts were turning away from Aimery and towards my brothers. Felix had only completed his conscription service last year and I knew this meant he would be called up. As would Henri. The notion that my only living family would march off to war against Germany made spangles of fear explode like tiny bombs of nervous energy in my belly.
    The cook’s maid, Marie, offered to top up my coffee but I declined. ‘Too much excitement already for one day,’ I said in a