Amandine had considered the woman's offer all night despite her husband's adamancy that nothing should be done about it. Had they come to England to survive or to give way to the pressure still haunting them and live in fear? To Amandine more money was more scope, and that she was French gave Amandine a little bit of home.
She stood in the doorway to the terrace, blinking into the sunlight. It was a glorious day. Her mistress was still in a coma from the previous night and there was not much to be done around the house. Now here she was, disobeying her husband's wishes to reject the offer preparing to learn more about the new position.
"Bonjour Madame," she said politely, the courtesy bow to keep up her charade of servitude. "I hope I am not intruding."