STILL IN HER dressing-gown and slippers, Claudine was sitting on the sofa in her and François’ suite at the Lorvoire château, listening in mounting disbelief to what her sister-in-law was saying. Monique had welcomed her home the night before with astonishing warmth, and then said she would come to her apartment first thing in the morning because she had something of the utmost importance to tell her: but not even in her wildest imaginings had Claudine guessed what it was.
‘… that’s why I’ve been so longing for you to come home,’ Monique gushed, tightening her grip on Claudine’s hands. ‘I know that’s selfish of me when you were on your honeymoon, but you just don’t know how wonderful it is to have a sister at last, someone I can confide in. I hope you think of me in the same way. And you know Freddy so well! It’ll help him, having you here, a familiar face, and he’s so incredibly fond of you. I confess I was a little jealous at first, but now … Oh Claudine, I’m so happy. Are you surprised? No, don’t deny it, of course you are. Everyone will be when we tell them, but what does the difference in our ages matter when we love each other? There are twelve years between you and François, and no one said a thing about that, did they?’
‘Not about that, no,’ Claudine murmured. Then forcing a smile, she said, ‘Have you set a date for the wedding yet?’
‘No, not yet. Perhaps it’s a little soon after yours to be thinking about it this year. I’ve always been rather keen to have a Spring wedding, what do you think? Spring next year?’
‘I think it sounds ideal,’ Claudine answered, not knowing what else she could say.
‘I’ll put it to Freddy later, I’m sure he’ll agree. He dotes on me, Claudine, it’s quite touching to see.’
‘And what about you? Do you dote on him?’
Monique gave a squeal of laughter. ‘Of course! How can anyone not dote on Freddy? He’s so romantic. He writes me poems all the time. If you promise not to tell, I’ll show you – they’re so passionate I could almost blush when I read them.’
‘How much longer is he staying at Montvisse?’ Claudine asked. ‘I mean, isn’t Tante Céline returning to Paris soon?’
‘Oh, haven’t you heard? But of course you haven’t, how could you? Céline has decided to stay on at Montvisse indefinitely, and she’s told Freddy he’s welcome to stay for as long as he likes. Naturally, I’ve invited him to Lorvoire, but he says it might be a little difficult for him to be under the same roof as me all the time. Isn’t he naughty, thinking things like that?’
Claudine couldn’t help being glad that at that moment there was a knock on the door and Louis appeared. ‘All right to come in?’
‘Of course,’ Claudine smiled, standing up and holding out her arms. ‘How are you? And how’s Solange?’
‘I couldn’t be better,’ he said, embracing her. ‘And Solange is fine too. Last time I saw her she was doing something drastic to her maid’s hair!’
Laughing, Claudine led him to the sofa. ‘I’m sorry I was too tired to join you all for dinner last night,’ she said.
‘Oh, I quite understand, ma chère. It was a long journey, and with the weather being so dismal in Biarritz … But as you can see, it’s no better here. It hasn’t stopped raining for three days.’
‘Claudine!’ a voice suddenly sang out. ‘Where are you, chérie?’ And then Solange bustled in, a scarf tied around her hair, her dressing-gown misbuttoned, and her hands behind her back. As soon as she saw her mother-in-law’s intent, childlike face Claudine felt a lump rise in her throat, and she moved quickly to take her in her arms.
‘No! Wait!’ Solange cried. ‘I have something here for you.’ And with a flourish she pulled a huge bunch of flowers from behind her back. ‘Welcome home!’
‘Oh Solange!’ Before Claudine could stop them, tears welled up in her eyes. ‘Solange,’ she said again, as she took the flowers and put an arm about her shoulders. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Not half as much as she’s missed you,’ Louis remarked. ‘Monique had to take her to Paris at the weekend before she drove me insane.’
‘Don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here,’ Solange retorted haughtily. ‘And I won’t remind you how many times you telephoned me while I was there, because I lost count. However, suffice it to say you were going insane without me.’
Looking at them, Claudine suddenly found herself wondering how two such wonderful people could have fathered a son like François. Quickly, before the tears came, she said, ‘I’ll take the flowers in to Magaly,’ and giving Solange another kiss, she vanished into her bedroom.
Her maid was in the bathroom, rearranging the Lalique bottles on a shelf. ‘Can you see to these, Magaly?’
‘Of course, madame.’ Magaly gave her a searching look, but with a small shake of her head Claudine disappeared into her dressing-room. She wouldn’t cry any more, and she wouldn’t talk about him any more either.
From a dressing-table drawer she took a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Magaly knew everything of course. How could she not when she had spent those ten horrific days in Biarritz with them? But she wouldn’t think about that now, she would never think about it again. The tears she had shed every time François left her bed had changed nothing then, and tears would change nothing now. What she needed to do now was to settle down to her new life at the château and the fact that she was his wife, she told herself forcefully, was not to be allowed to affect things in any way. What passed between them at night took half an hour or less, and providing she kept out of his way the rest of the time, her life and her emotions were her own to govern.
‘Oh, Maman, do we have to?’ Monique was grumbling as Claudine walked back into the sitting-room.
‘Have to what?’ Claudine asked brightly.
‘Maman has arranged for us to visit the de Voisins at Montbazon this afternoon,’ Monique answered. ‘Couldn’t we telephone and explain that Claudine has arrived, so we can’t make it today?’
‘But they will want to see Claudine too!’ Solange cried.
‘I should imagine,’ Louis interrupted, ‘that Claudine is eager to visit her aunt – alone,’ he added forcefully, seeing his wife’s eyes light up at the prospect of a visit to Céline. ‘So I think it a very good idea that you take your mother to Montbazon, Monique, then tonight we shall have dinner here and invite Céline and Freddy to join us. How does that sound?’
‘Dinner!’ Solange shrieked, leaping to her feet. ‘We are having dinner here? Then I must go and talk to Arlette.’
‘Why doesn’t Claudine have a word with the cook?’ Louis suggested.
‘Claudine! But she’s a guest!’
Louis shook his head, and Solange blinked. Then her hands flew to her face and she gave a cry of joyous comprehension. ‘And you, chérie,’ Louis continued, smiling, ‘can go and rescue poor Tilde from those new-fangled curlers you’ve bound her up in.’
‘Oh, Tilde! I’d quite forgotten about her!’ Solange gasped. She started from the room, then turned back. ‘Oh, Claudine,’ she said, ‘I have a message for you from François. He telephoned last night, after you had gone to bed. He says he will return in time for dinner this evening.’ She frowned. ‘Or did he say Lucien would be here for dinner? I forget.’
‘François is coming this evening,’ Louis said, taking off his spectacles and wiping them with his handkerchief. ‘Lucien will be here next week.’
Claudine’s heart had given a sickening lurch on hearing that François would return so soon, but she was still smiling as she said, ‘I’ve yet to learn what you all like to eat, so I’m not sure I’m the one to talk to Arlette.’
‘Nonsense,’ Louis answered kindly. ‘Arlette knows anyway. And you’ll be mistress of Lorvoire one day, so …’
‘Oh Papa!’ Monique exclaimed. ‘Claudine has only just returned from her honeymoon, stop rushing her. I will talk to Arlette, and you must take your medication before Doctor Lebrun arrives …’
Monique didn’t stay long after her father had gone, and to her relief Claudine was left alone for the remainder of the morning. Feigning happiness with her own marriage was one thing, and God knew how difficult that was, but having to pretend to be happy for Monique and Freddy was, just for the moment, beyond her. She was certain, knowing Freddy as she did, that there had been some terrible misunderstanding, but until she spoke to him there was nothing to be done.
Her Lagonda had been brought to Lorvoire while she was in Biarritz, so that afternoon she drove herself over to Montvisse through the pouring rain, the canvas roof firmly in place and the windscreen-wipers creaking frenziedly back and forth. She had done a great deal of thinking while she was in Biarritz, and some of it had been about Tante Céline and her father.
When she had returned to Montvisse on that terrible morning of her flight from Poiters, she had already been in a state of shock, and finding her father and Tante Céline in bed together had been almost more than she could take. Later that day, when she was a little calmer, the three of them had talked; Beavis and Tante Céline left her in no doubt that their relationship had begun long after Antoinette’s death, and Claudine had assured them that she understood and forgave them – not that there was really anything to forgive. And she had forgiven her father; but somehow it hadn’t seemed so easy to forgive Tante Céline, and the last thing that happened before François dragged her off to Biarritz was that she spent a hysterical few minutes calling Tante Céline every bad name she could think of. Her sense of shame at this had contributed to her unhappiness in Biarritz, and what she wanted very much now was to see her aunt and set things right … But Tante Céline, Claudine was informed when she arrived at Montvisse, had gone to the beauty salon at Tours and was not expected back until about four o’clock.
Claudine’s heart sank. If Tante Céline had gone all the way to Tours on a day when she knew her niece was coming, it surely meant that she was avoiding her – or punishing her. But she cheered up a little when she saw Freddy poke his head out of the library, and with a genuinely warm smile she ran into his arms.
‘Oh no, old thing, Céline isn’t avoiding you,’ Freddy said, when she told him what was on her mind. ‘She already had the appointment – she wasn’t expecting you back until the end of the week, remember – and one told her to go ahead because one was longing to have you to oneself for a while.’
‘Was one indeed?’ Claudine said, with a sidelong glance that set his cheeks on fire.
Grinning, she pulled off her gloves, unpinned her hat, then threw them onto the bureau as she flopped into a chair. ‘Mon Dieu, it’s cold in here,’ she shivered, rubbing her hands as she leaned towards the newly lit fire. ‘It’s like winter already.’
‘How does it feel to be back?’ he said. ‘Did you like Biarritz?’
‘Biarritz was fine,’ she answered. ‘And how have you found Touraine?’
‘Oh, fine.’
The flatness of his voice made her look up, and when she saw the gloomy expression on his face she found it difficult not to smile. ‘It’s all right, Freddy,’ she said, ‘Monique’s already told me. So come on, out with it, what have you been up to, you rogue? Or shall I call you a Casanova?’ she added as she reached for his hand.
‘Please, don’t!’ he said in a pained voice. ‘Don’t! I have no idea how this has happened, but Clo, one is practically engaged!’
‘So I hear,’ she chuckled. ‘And I take it from your expression that you don’t particularly want to be?’
Miserably he shook his head.
‘Then you’d better start at the beginning. And don’t look so worried, I’m sure we’ll find a solution.’
But by the time he had finished his tale of woe, she wasn’t quite so sure. Of course, if Freddy were a little more like François he wouldn’t have a problem, but being the honourable gentleman he was, he was bound to feel obliged to marry a girl if he so much as kissed her, never mind what he had actually done with Monique. And Monique, of course, had realized that. But instead of being angry with Monique, Claudine was sorry for her. That she should feel so desperate that she had to trick a young boy into marrying her was heart-rending.
‘What can one do, Clo?’ Freddy said, looking at her with his limpid, puppy-like eyes. ‘Do you suppose one will have to go through with it?’
Claudine shook her head. ‘I don’t know, darling. If I thought it would help I would talk to Monique myself, but …’
‘Could you!’ he cried, squeezing her hands. ‘She’ll listen to you, I know. She’s so terribly, terribly fond of you …’
‘Is that what she told you?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes. Elle a de la presence, she said, whatever that means. She thinks you’re topping, Clo, and you’ll be so much better than one could ever be at letting her down gently.’ He stopped, then looking at her sideways, he said, ‘Do you think one should just pop back to England, though, before you do it? You know, sort of get out of the way?’
‘No, I most certainly do not!’ Claudine laughed. ‘And neither am I going to let her down gently. Don’t look at me like that! I’m not saying you have to many her, but what I am saying is that you have to take responsibility for what you have done. I know she seduced you,’ she smiled as Freddy’s cheeks started to burn, ‘but you have been writing her some rather passionate poetry she tells me …’
‘But Clo, one didn’t mean her to …’
‘Oh yes one did, Freddy! What you didn’t mean her to do was assume you were going to marry her as a result. Now, you are absolutely certain that you didn’t actually propose when you were … incapable, shall we say?’
‘Oh, absolutely! I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and I just don’t see how one could have. I mean, it was the furthest thing from one’s mind …’
‘Hm.’ Claudine was silent for a moment. ‘Well, what matters now is that we get you out of this mess and back to Oxford before it’s too late. The question is, how?’
He gazed up at her pleadingly, and she sat forward to plant a kiss on the end of his nose.
‘I know you’ll think of something, Clo. I just know you will.’
The telephone started ringing then, and Claudine got up to answer it. ‘Well, whatever it is,’ she said, ‘you have a lesson to learn here, Freddy Prendergast, so you will be the one to let her down gently, not I. Savigny 222,’ she said into the receiver. She turned to Freddy, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. ‘Yes, Monique,’ she continued into the telephone, ‘it is Claudine here. No, I have no idea where Jean or Pierre are, so I answered myself. No, Céline isn’t here either, she’s in Tours. Yes, yes he is.’ She grinned as Freddy started frantically shaking his head. ‘I’ll put him on.’
Glaring at her, Freddy took the receiver, and Claudine, laughing, went into the drawing-room to save his embarrassment.
Five minutes later, Freddy appeared, his fresh, young face as pink as his tie and his mane of sandy hair in wild disorder. ‘Monique asked one to remind you to invite Céline and one to dinner tonight,’ he said morosely.
‘Of course,’ Claudine said. ‘Consider yourself invited.’ She waited. ‘Well,’ she pressed, ‘what else did she say?’
‘Oh, Clo!’ he wailed, clasping his head in his hands. ‘She wants to announce our engagement. Tonight!’
‘Oh, Freddy,’ Claudine sighed, trying not to laugh.
He threw himself down on the sofa. ‘I’m doomed,’ he groaned tragically. ‘Doomed!’
‘Not necessarily. I’ll talk her into postponing it.’
‘I don’t want a postponement, I want a cancellation!’ he cried.
‘We don’t always get what we want in this life, Freddy,’ she said, a little more harshly then she’d intended. He gave her a curious look, and she went on quickly, ‘A postponement I can virtually guarantee. Lucien is coming home in a few days time, just for the night en route to join his regiment. For that night, assuming François isn’t called away, the whole family will be together, and I’ll advise Monique to make the announcement then. How does that sound?’
‘Better,’ he nodded dismally. ‘Better, but not perfect.’
‘Freddy, you aren’t still moping around the place, are you?’ Céline was standing at the door, and the instant Claudine saw her, tears stung painfully at her eyes. Hastily she blinked them away – how ridiculous she was to be so moved by the sight of people she loved!
Céline looked back at her niece, then with a smile she lifted her arms and held them out to her. ‘Ma chérie,’ she murmured, as Claudine went to her.
‘Tante Céline. Oh, Tante Céline, I’m so sorry. I’m so …’ She stopped as Céline put a finger over her lips.
‘There is nothing to be sorry for, chérie,’ she said. ‘We will talk later, but for now I must have some tea.’
Of course they couldn’t talk in front of Freddy, but already her aunt had made it clear that she had forgiven the dreadful outburst, and Claudine felt a weight had been lifted from her heart.
Tea was brought, and Claudine heard about what had been happening at Montvisse while she was away, and told them all she wanted them to know about Biarritz. She knew she wasn’t deceiving her aunt, even for a minute, but it was vital to her for her own sake to keep up appearances.
It was a little after five when the telephone rang again, and Pierre came to tell Freddy the call was for him. Choking back her laughter at Freddy’s anguished face, Claudine waited for him to leave the room before turning to her aunt.
Céline held up her hands. ‘I don’t want to know,’ she said. ‘He’s got himself into some kind of trouble with Monique de Lorvoire, and as far as I’m concerned he must get himself out of it.’
‘My sentiments exactly,’ Claudine said. ‘But I can’t abandon him altogether – after all, he is only nineteen.’ She paused and looked Céline straight in the eye. ‘Any more than you can bring yourself to abandon me, and I’m twenty-two,’ she added meaningfully. ‘That is, I take it, why you are staying on at Montvisse?’
Smiling, Céline brushed her fingers over Claudine’s face, then helped herself to more tea. ‘Am I allowed to ask why you are back from Biarritz so soon?’ she said, dropping two lumps of sugar into her cup.
‘The weather was atrocious, so François thought it better that we return to Lorvoire,’ Claudine answered lightly.
Céline nodded. ‘Except that François, so I hear, is in Paris.’ Her eyes narrowed as she regarded her niece. ‘How are things between you two now?’ she said bluntly.
‘As good as they’ll ever be.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that I am over the shock of losing my virginity.’
Céline seemed cross. ‘Please don’t treat me like an idiot, chérie. It would have taken more than that for you to run away on your wedding night, but if you don’t want to tell me, then don’t.’
Claudine smiled. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said gently, ‘but there’s no point in going into why I left him that night, it’s history now, and it simply isn’t relevant any longer. Things have changed a great deal since. François and I now have a marriage that will suit us both.’
Céline sighed. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. ‘Why do I get the feeling that you are starting a life sentence?’ she said.
‘All marriages are life sentences,’ Claudine laughed, ‘if you want to put it that way. And mine is not so bad. I have Solange and Louis – and Monique and I will be friends eventually. And now that you are staying on in Touraine for a while, I am surrounded by people I love.’
‘But …’
‘And,’ Claudine interrupted, ‘if François and I continue the way we are, it shouldn’t be too long before there’s a baby at Lorvoire. So then everyone will be happy, including my husband.’
‘So you are making love?’ Céline said.
‘That isn’t what François calls it, but yes, I suppose we are.’ She looked away. She didn’t want to have to go into a detailed account of the nightly struggle between herself and François, particularly since she had now learned that life was a lot easier if she just did as he told her. Though he hadn’t liked it much when she started to sing the Marseillaise at the top of her voice … She wouldn’t do it again …
She looked up as the door burst open and Freddy all but fell into the room. ‘Clo!’ he cried. ‘Clo! You know what we were talking about earlier? Well, I’ve just had the most fortunate phone call, and I think it will solve all my problems!’
By the time Claudine had heard Freddy’s plan for extricating himself from Monique, and had said goodbye to Tante Céline, it was early evening. She still wanted to visit Liliane St Jacques, and there was just time, she thought, before she had to get back to the château to change for dinner.
The sky was almost dark as she drove through the village. She could see Armand in the café as she drove past, and for a moment she was tempted to join him, it looked so cosy inside. But it was Liliane, not Armand she had come to see, and there was no cosiness on earth to compare with Liliane St Jacques’ kitchen, where garlic and herbs and pots and pans hung all over the unevenly plastered walls, and the ovens always gave out smells so appetizing that Claudine could feel her mouth watering even as she stepped out of the car and made a dash through the rain for the door.
By the time she reached it, it was already open, and Liliane’s toothless smile was waiting to greet her. Her black headscarf was tied neatly under her chin, and her shapeless grey dress was covered by a faded, carrot-stained apron. Claudine had met her only a few times before the wedding, but like Solange and Monique she had come to regard her as almost one of the family.
Claudine stooped to embrace her, and Liliane pulled her into the warmth of the kitchen, clucking her delight that she had come to visit so soon. She sat her down at the table, then padded across the flagstones to ladle a cup of hot broth from the pot over the fire. While Claudine drank she continued to clean the vegetables she had set out on the table, all the time recounting in a low, scratchy voice the latest village doings. She knows all there is to know, Claudine thought fondly, but there isn’t a malicious bone in her body; she sees good in everyone, even where there’s none to see.
After a while Liliane got up and poured them each a tot of Lorvoire wine. Then she turned on the wireless so that Claudine could listen to the last part of the news broadcast, while she added her vegetables to a lamb stew she was cooking for Armand’s supper.
The only light in the kitchen came from the fire in the huge stone hearth and the air was warm and steamy. Claudine allowed her eyes to close, only half-listening to the newscaster’s dull monotone as he read out the details of a naval agreement Britain had signed with Germany, and the latest information from the Bourse. Her concentration waned altogether then, as she listened to the gentle drum of the rain outside and tried not to think of François. She had almost fallen asleep when suddenly the door opened with a quick burst of cold wind, and Armand came in.
‘Bonsoir, Armand,’ she smiled up at him.
‘Bonsoir, madame.’
Claudine watched as he stamped the mud from his boots and unbuttoned his jacket. She had met him only once, on the day of her wedding, and she remembered now how much he had surprised her. From what Lucien had told her about the death of his wife and child, she had expected there to be an air of tragedy about him – but, on the contrary, she had seen humour in his kind, handsome face, and his large blue eyes had shone with laughter as he danced the older women round the ballroom.
‘I see you are sampling last year’s vintage,’ he said, smiling.
‘Is it a particularly good one?’ she asked, feeling herself responding to his warmth.
He pulled a thoughtful face. ‘Not particularly,’ he said. ‘But it will sell.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she laughed. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m rather glad you’re here. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.’
‘Oh?’ he said, taking off his jacket and hooking it over the back of a chair. He sat down at the head of the table and rested his blond head on his hand, while his mother set a glass before him and started to pour the wine.
‘Well, it’s more of a suggestion really,’ Claudine said. ‘François tells me that the grapes are to be harvested soon, and that there always used to be a celebration at the château when they were in. I was wondering if it would be a good idea to revive the tradition. What do you think?’
‘Madame de Lorvoire,’ Armand said, with irony in his voice, ‘you’re going to make yourself even more popular than you already are if you continue to come up with suggestions like that.’
‘So you’ll help?’
‘Of course, madame.’
‘Marvellous. And please stop addressing me as ‘madame’ when I know full well that you even call the Comte and Comtesse Louis and Solange. Perhaps you can spread the word. About the festival, I mean. See if anyone wants to join us, do anything to help, donate things …’
‘A Frenchman, donate!’ he cried throwing up his hands. ‘Don’t you know they all have porcupines in their pockets?’
Claudine burst out laughing, and Liliane chuckled too. Armand drained his glass, refilled Claudine’s, then rolled back his sleeves and walked over to the enamel sink beneath the window.
‘What sort of thing do you have in mind for the celebration?’ Liliane asked Claudine.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ she answered. ‘That was why I wanted to talk to you and Armand …’
While Claudine and his mother ran through some ideas, Armand turned on the tap and started washing his hands. He had passed Claudine’s car on his way in, but it wasn’t until he looked at it again now, through the kitchen window – abandoned haphazardly as it was at the bottom of the bank – that he remembered how he had seen her in it the morning after her wedding.
He picked up a towel, and wiping his hands, turned back into the room. Claudine had her back to him, but as he looked at her glorious mane of curls beneath that outrageously frivolous hat, and her delicate white hands lying on the table beside her glass, he experienced a sudden surge of feeling. She was trying hard not to show it, but he had seen it in her eyes: she was lonely and confused and frightened. It made him want to put his arms around her, and tell her he would be there for her if she needed him. But of course that would be an outrageous thing to do. And if he did it, how could he begin to justify it? He could not possibly tell her that the torment in her lovely blue eyes reminded him of the way another woman – another woman who loved François – had looked in the weeks before she died.
Armand knew Claudine had heard of Hortense because Lucien had told him so, but he was certain she didn’t know the real truth about what had happened that night in the wine cave. Apart from François, Louis and Doctor Lebrun, Armand guessed that he was probably the only person in the world who did know. He had witnessed it with his own eyes. Even François did not know that; he had never told anyone except his wife, Jacqueline; how, hearing voices, he had come out of the tasting cellar at the back of the cave and stood frozen with horror as he saw François and Hortense struggling with the knife. How he had seen the silver blade, with François’ great hand clutched around the handle, plunge into Hortense’s chest.
François had been so quick in catching her and running with her to his car that by the time Armand reached the mouth of the cave, he was already speeding down the drive with Hortense’s limp body beside him. Then Louis had appeared from nowhere, and from the look on his face it was clear that he too had seen a great deal of what happened.
‘He’ll be taking her to Doctor Lebrun,’ Louis had said in a flat voice.
Armand had simply stared at him, then followed him into the cave. ‘How do you know he’s taking her to Lebrun?’ he asked, his strained voice echoing eerily in the silence.
‘I know my son,’ Louis answered. ‘But if you have any doubts, go after him.’ He started to unravel the hose which was hooked on the wall.
‘What are you doing?’ Armand asked.
‘Clearing up the mess.’
For the first time Armand had noticed the blood on the floor, and the sight of it seemed to jolt him back to reality. ‘You can’t do that!’ he cried. ‘If François has killed her …’
‘François didn’t kill her!’
‘But I saw him! I saw what happened …’
‘She wasn’t dead. When he carried her out, she wasn’t dead. Why do you think he’s taken her to Lebrun?’
‘But Louis, if they don’t save her François will be …’
‘They will save her!’ Louis had thundered.
But they hadn’t. Lebrun had fought for her life all through that night and into the next day, but in the end Hortense died and François was never brought to trial. Armand had no idea what Louis told the de Bourchain family, but they left France soon after, and as far as he knew they had never returned.
It was just over two years now since it happened, and still Armand despised himself for having remained silent. But as Louis pointed out at the time, if the de Bourchain family wanted the matter hushed up, then their wishes had to be respected. And certainly it had been easier that way. It would have been his word against François’ and Louis’, and though he cared nothing for François, he knew his father would have wanted him to stand by the Comte. If he had spoken out, whether the courts believed him or not he would have had to leave Lorvoire, and that would have broken his mother’s heart.
For a long time after that night Armand had been unable to look at François without remembering what he had seen, without remembering other things, too, that were still, even now, too painful to dwell on. But after a time it had become easier, mainly because François had continued to treat him just as he always had – like a brother. It had been a long struggle, but knowing that his bitterness was hurting no one but himself, Armand had finally learned how to live with it.
Claudine’s voice brought him back to the present. ‘That’s a marvellous idea, Liliane,’ she was saying. ‘I really think we could hold the entire festival here in your cottage! And it’s so kind of Armand to offer to sing for us …’
‘What?’ he barked.
‘Ah, so you are still with us,’ Claudine grinned, leaning back in her chair. ‘We were beginning to wonder.’
‘Me sing?’ Armand repeated.
‘Yes, sing,’ she confirmed. ‘Any song of your choice. Your mother tells me you have a wonderful voice, and I can play the piano, so I shall expect you for rehearsals up at the château every evening, starting tomorrow, until the grapes are in.’
Armand’s eyes moved from her to his mother and back again. ‘You’re serious!’
‘Of course we are,’ Claudine said, winking at Liliane. In fact, now that she thought about it the idea was beginning to seem rather a good one. ‘That’s settled, then,’ she said, getting up and picking up her gloves. ‘If you know of any more talent in the village, let me know – I think the idea of a cabaret is a splendid one. I shall have to think of something for Solange to do, she’s bound to want to join in. I know, perhaps you and she can sing a duet, Armand.’
‘Now, hang on a …’
‘And I shall think of a little play for the children to perform. What do you think, Liliane? We could do Sleeping Beauty. Charles Perrault’s supposed to have got his inspiration from the château over at Rigny-Ussé, so that keeps it local. Yes, it’s getting better all the time. I can hardly wait to tell Solange.’ She paused. Armand was staring at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘what do you suppose I can give François to do?’
Armand exploded into laughter. ‘I’ll tell you something,’ he said. ‘If you can persuade François to do anything at all, then you shall have my unconditional surrender and I will sing with Solange.’
‘I accept the challenge,’ Claudine said with a grin, holding out her hand. ‘And now I really must go.’ She was enjoying herself so much that she wished she could stay a little longer, but she must get back to the château for dinner.
‘I’ll be up at the caves tomorrow,’ Armand said, as he opened the door for her. ‘If you still want to know something about how we make the wine, then I’ll be glad to show you. You asked me about it at the wedding, do you remember?’
‘Of course I remember,’ she smiled, though he suspected that she didn’t. ‘I’ll look forward to it. What time should I come?’
‘Around eleven might be best. The deliveries will be finished by then. Will François be at home tomorrow?’
Armand saw the hunted look come into her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘as far as I know.’
‘Good. There are a few things I need to go over with him.’
‘I’ll tell him.’ And kissing Liliane on both cheeks, she shook hands with Armand and went out into the damp night air.
Armand stood at the door watching her tail-lights weave back through the village. She’s a remarkable woman, he was thinking to himself, quite remarkable. He grinned. And bossy too! When the car lights disappeared from view, he turned back into the cottage and his eyes were alive with laughter as he said to his mother, ‘But I can’t sing!’
François had already arrived by the time Claudine returned to the château, though she didn’t see him until he came into the drawing-room before dinner. She was sitting in a window-seat discussing the harvest celebration with Solange when the door opened, and without even having to turn round she knew at once that he was there.
As he walked into the room she looked up, but he was engaged in conversation with a man who had introduced himself to her on the stairs earlier as Captain Paul Paillole. He had driven down from Paris with François that afternoon, he had told her, and was looking forward to spending a few days at Lorvoire.
Claudine watched as François spoke quietly to Jean-Paul, the butler, then turned to greet Céline and Freddy. He did not once glance in her direction. She glared at him, longing somehow to humiliate him in return, but she managed to control the urge and continued her conversation with Solange.
Later, over dinner, served in front of a roaring fire in the dining-room, François again conversed mainly with the Captain and his father; Claudine wished she could be as oblivious to his presence as he clearly was to hers. At last she turned her attention to Monique who, she realized with dismay, was talking excitedly about weddings. It hadn’t been difficult to persuade her to postpone the announcement of her engagement until the whole family was together, but as she listened to her now, and watched the way her feverish amber eyes continually sought Freddy’s, Claudine was overcome with sadness. The way that Freddy planned to free himself from her would cause her real pain; she didn’t deserve that kind of rejection, no matter how scheming she had been. Perhaps she should try and have another word with Freddy, Claudine thought, before he talked to Monique …
Feeling her aunt’s eyes on her, she looked up and smiled, then turned to listen to Captain Paillole.
‘Of course,’ he was saying, ‘the British navy may have a hundred and eighty destroyers, but we in France have fifteen more than the Germans’ twenty-two, you know.’
‘Nevertheless,’ François said, setting down his wine glass, ‘if it comes to it – and despite what they say at the Foreign Office, I think we can be fairly certain it will – we shall be relying heavily on the might of the Royal Navy. Statesmen and …’
Claudine had spoken almost before she realized. ‘But I heard on the news that the Royal Navy have signed an agreement with Germany today, so surely …’ Her heartbeat suddenly slowed as François moved his thunderous eyes to hers. There was silence round the table, and beneath that inimical gaze she began to feel herself tremble.
Then suddenly Louis laughed, and covering her hand with his, he said, ‘Britain and Germany signed that agreement back in July, ma chère. What you heard on the news today was the fact that it is running into difficulties already.’
Claudine gazed down at her plate. Her fork was poised over the turbot in its creamy mushroom sauce, but as she dug into it she felt a dryness in her mouth that she knew would prevent her from eating. It had been a simple mistake, that was all, just a simple mistake … She stole another look at François and felt herself go tense with fury. But anger wasn’t the answer, she had learned that, and reasoning with him was no good either. All she could do was try to ignore him; involve herself in the life of Lorvoire as much as she could, and never, never interrupt him when he was speaking …
Céline and Freddy didn’t stay long after dinner, and to Claudine’s relief Monique retired early so she and Solange went upstairs to Claudine’s sitting-room for a nightcap. Louis, François and the Captain remained in the library until well past midnight, by which time Claudine was lying in bed, listening to the rain.
Her heart quickened as she heard the door to their apartment open. She could hear François’ footsteps as he moved about the sitting-room, and thought how she had lain awake listening for that sound while he was away. Why was it, she wondered angrily, that she felt so empty when he was gone, yet hated him so when he was here?
She reached out to turn off the lamp beside the bed. She didn’t want to see his face when he came in, she wanted to pretend that he wasn’t really there, that the horrible pounding of his body was happening in a dream. But in her heart she knew that wasn’t the real reason why she had turned off the light; she’d done it so that he wouldn’t see the pain in her eyes when he got up to go.
When at last the door opened, the light from the sitting-room fell across the bed and she could see his monstrous silhouette as he stood there in the doorway. Though she couldn’t see them, she could feel his eyes upon her, and defiantly she stared back. And then, though she could hardly believe her ears, she thought she heard him heave a sigh of resignation at the prospect of having to struggle with her again … A great surge of anger erupted inside her; she flung back the bedcovers, hoisted her nightdress over her thighs and spat, ‘Here you are, this is what you’ve come for, isn’t it?’
His only response was to look at her. Then, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar, he walked towards the bed. As he came to a stop beside her, her nails bit into the palms of her hands – but his eyes weren’t on her nakedness, they were gazing mockingly into hers. Then, saying nothing, he lifted the blankets and covered her again.
She glared up at him, a buzz of alarm sounding in her head. What foul trick was he about to play her now?
He reached out to turn on the lamp, then slid his hands into his pockets, all the time keeping his eyes fixed calmly on hers. She watched him warily as he sat on the end of the bed, leaning one shoulder against the bedpost and stretching out his legs. She could see the hideous scar that started beneath the corner of his right eye, and the soft light gleaming on the greased smoothness of his hair.
‘I have asked the notary to come here tomorrow at three,’ he said. ‘He will arrange your allowance. If you find the amount unsatisfactory then I will naturally increase it. The money will be yours to do with as you please …’
‘I have money of my own,’ she snapped.
He nodded. ‘I am well aware of that. But as I said, the money is yours, to do with as you please. If you choose not to use it …’ he shrugged ‘… ça ne fait rien.’
She eyed him suspiciously; then a thought struck her. ‘Guilt money!’ she cried. ‘Is that what it is? Does it salve your conscience to pay for what you’re doing to me? Or is it your sick way of making me feel like a whore?’
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his dark face hard and inscrutable. ‘I shall be leaving here in a few days,’ he continued, just as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘and shall be away for some weeks. I know you have the highest regard for my mother and father, so I shall trust you not to do anything that could in any way injure or embarrass them.’ He threw her a quick look, and she knew that beneath those words lay a warning. ‘You will find this difficult to believe, I know,’ he went on, ‘but I should like you to be happy here at the château, as much for the sake of my family and the children we hope to have, as for your own.’
‘You’re a liar, François,’ she said. ‘You care nothing for me, or my happiness. If you did you would let me go. You would end this farce of a marriage and give me the annulment I …’
‘That subject is closed, Claudine. You are my wife now, for better or for worse, as I am your husband. Try to get used to the idea. It will be easier for you if you do.’
‘And what about you? How easy is it for you, having a wife who despises you?’
He smiled, and as he looked at her his eyes seemed to penetrate hers in a way that brought the colour flooding to her cheeks. It was as though he could read everything that was going on inside her mind. ‘You will find that I allow you a great deal of freedom in our marriage,’ he said, ignoring the question. ‘Much more than most wives have, in fact. I require only one thing of you, as you know, and you may be pleased also to know that once you have produced a boy to continue the de Lorvoire line, sexual relations between us will be at an end. Then all I shall require of you is that you are a good mother, and that you are discreet about your lovers.’ He stood up. ‘Tonight I shall let you sleep in peace. However I shall feel obliged to avail myself of my conjugal rights again before I leave, I will let you know when. In the meantime please be in the library at three tomorrow afternoon to meet the notary.’
He snapped off the light and started back across the room. Claudine’s eyes followed him until the door closed behind him, leaving her in darkness. Then suddenly, without giving herself time to think, she leapt out of bed and stormed into the sitting-room.
He was standing at the table, looking at some documents, his hands still in his pockets. When he heard her, he looked up, and a frown of exasperation crossed his face.
‘I think you should know,’ she fumed, ‘that what you want, and when you choose to do it, just might not be acceptable to me.’
To her total confusion, he started to laugh. ‘Is this your way,’ he said, ‘of telling me that you want me in your bed? Now?’
She looked at him in horror. That wasn’t what she was saying at all.
‘Or have I misunderstood?’
She took a step backwards as he started to amble towards her. ‘What are you doing?’ she cried, as he turned her round and pushed her back into the bedroom.
She jerked herself away and swung round to face him. The humour had gone from his face, and he seemed bored, waiting for what she was about to say. The frustration was too much for her, and raising her fists she started to hammer them into him. She managed three punches before he caught her hands and twisted them behind her back. The movement brought her body against his, and she felt a bolt of desire strike her with such intensity that it snatched the strength from her legs. But he tightened the grip on her arms, holding her up, and she gasped with the pain of it.
‘So,’ he said, his mouth very close to hers, ‘you have a penchant for violent sex?’ He laughed as he saw the expression on her face, but as he looked down at her she felt her lips start to tremble and her eyes flutter closed as she waited for the touch of his mouth. ‘However, I’m afraid I am in no mood to oblige you tonight,’ he said, ‘violently or otherwise.’ And he let her go so abruptly that she staggered back against the bed.
She watched the door close behind him, listened as he walked across the sitting-room and into his own room. Her head was spinning, her heart was thudding painfully and her wrists were smarting. She threw herself onto the bed and drew her knees to her chest as if to shut out the insufferable humiliation. What in God’s name was happening to her? What had possessed her to go after him like that? For once he had not pressed himself upon her, had been willing to leave her in peace, and she, instead of welcoming it, had … When they were in Biarritz, she’d thought she had overcome this insidious longing for him, had managed to control the treachery of her body; but when he had held her against him just now, when she felt his mouth so close to hers, she had wanted him more than ever.
She couldn’t understand herself. She was confused, angry, pathetic. Why was she the victim of this consuming desire? Because that was all it was, she told herself; there was no love – there couldn’t be when he treated her the way he did. No, she didn’t love him, she knew she didn’t. And she didn’t care that he had rejected her, that he had told her she could take a lover, that he would end what relationship they had once she had done her duty. She didn’t care about any of it. She was glad. She hated him, and never wanted him to touch her again …