NOTHING IN THE world could have prepared Claudine for the way she felt when her baby boy was put into her arms. Her skin was still coated with sweat, her hair plastered to her head, but she was conscious only of the beautiful, puckered little face with its mop of inky-black hair and anger-reddened cheeks. Even the indescribable agony of the past twelve hours was forgotten, and laughing at her son’s furious objection to being tugged so unceremoniously into the world, she surprised everyone by pushing aside her nightgown and putting his mouth to her nipple. Almost immediately he started to suckle. She stared down at him, mesmerized by the perfection of his tiny limbs. Then her heart stood still as his eyes suddenly opened and he seemed to look straight into her own.
‘Mon Dieu!’ she breathed. Then she looked up at Doctor Lebrun and burst into tears …
Later, she slept. When she woke the doctor and midwife had gone, and François was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was holding his son, and was apparently engrossed in the way he was opening and closing his eyes. Claudine lay quietly watching them, captivated by the comparison between François’ big hand and the tiny head it cradled. It was the first time she had ever seen her husband not perfectly in control of a situation. Even now he seemed to be coping remarkably well, but the expression on his face suggested that his son’s presence in the world was having a profound effect upon him.
After a time she reached out a hand and pulled aside the baby’s blanket so that she too could see his face. As she gazed down at him she could feel François’ eyes on her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to look up in case he said something to spoil the moment. In the end it was the baby who broke the silence, and Claudine couldn’t help laughing at the look of horror that came over François’ face.
‘I think he’s hungry,’ she told him.
‘Of course,’ he said, clearly amused by his own stupidity. He placed the baby carefully in her arms. ‘Shall I call Magaly?’ he offered.
‘Why?’
‘For his milk.’
‘But I have it here,’ she said, starting to smile. This was the first time, too, that she had ever seen François embarrassed.
‘I’m afraid I have no experience of babies,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Would you like me to leave the room while you feed him?’
She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to go or not. ‘Only if you want to.’
He too seemed undecided, but then Magaly came in and he left.
‘Is monsieur happy?’ Magaly asked, when the door had closed behind him.
Claudine thought for a moment. ‘I think so. When did he arrive?’
‘About an hour before the baby.’
‘Did he come up at all? I mean, while it was happening?’
Magaly shook her head, and Claudine’s face hardened for a moment. ‘Have you seen Armand?’ she asked then.
‘I went to Liliane’s as soon as the baby arrived, to give her the news. Armand is still in Tours, but she expects him home soon.’
Claudine looked down at the baby and a lump rose in her throat preventing her from saying any more.
Later, François came back. The baby was asleep in his cradle, and after gazing down at him for a time he said, ‘Words seem inadequate at a time like this, but I want to thank you. He’s a fine son.’
‘Isn’t he?’ she smiled. Then, for no apparent reason, she remembered the necklace he had given her on her birthday. ‘There was a time, a few months ago, when I wanted to thank you.’
‘Oh?’
‘For the necklace. The one you left on the table for me.’
She watched him as he turned back to the cradle. ‘Where is it now?’ she ventured, when it was evident he wasn’t going to speak.
‘I presumed, when you didn’t mention it, that you didn’t want it,’ he answered. ‘So I gave it to someone else.’
An icy heat flared in the pit of her stomach, and she turned away before he could see her eyes.
‘I take it from your reaction,’ he said, ‘that I made a mistake.’
‘Not at all,’ she answered quickly. Then, unable to stop herself, she said, ‘Did she like it? The woman you gave it to, did she like the necklace?’
‘As a matter of fact, she didn’t say, but I imagine she did. Naturally, if there’s anything you want by way of replacement you have only to ask.’
‘There’s nothing, thank you,’ she said, and picked up the pile of telegrams she had been reading when he came in.
A few minutes later he said, ‘The baby will be baptized Louis François.’
She looked up. ‘Is the matter open for discussion?’
‘No. You already know that the first-born son of the de Lorvoires is called either Louis or François. Each generation alternates, so our son will be Louis.’
‘And if I want to call him after my father?’
‘We should be obliged to have another child for that. But as I have every intention of keeping to my promise, that’s unlikely. The sexual side of our marriage is now over.’
He looked at her, and when she saw the expression in his eyes her heart suddenly swelled in her chest. She stared back at him, and though neither of them moved she could feel herself going to him as though he were pulling her into his arms, enclosing her in a passionate tenderness he had never shown her before. But as quickly as it had come, the feeling between them vanished and he said, ‘You are free to live your life as you please, Claudine. You may even leave the château and live elsewhere if you wish. My son, of course, will stay.’
Her cheeks were suddenly suffused with colour, and fury flashed in her eyes. ‘Nothing on God’s earth will part me from my son,’ she said, ‘not even you. And if you’re hoping to be rid of me, if you think you can throw me off now that I’ve served my purpose, then you’re seriously mistaken. We will call him Louis, we will have him baptized and brought up the way you want – not because I’m afraid to stand up to you, but because I know that you’ll do what is best for him. But you will never again refer to him as your son, François, because he is not your son. He is our son.’
‘Indeed,’ he conceded. ‘And I’m glad that you have decided to stay at the château. Our son will need his mother.’
‘I’m staying because I have no choice. I resigned myself to that some time ago.’
‘Very wise. Now, if there’s nothing I can get you I shall bid you goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ she snapped.
But when he reached the door, he turned back. ‘In case you are interested,’ he said amiably, ‘I thought I should let you know that Armand will not be returning from Tours. He will be taking the train to Burgundy, and when he has finished his business there he will go on to Bordeaux. But before you accuse me of trying to come between you, perhaps you should know that, though it is de Lorvoire business he is engaged on, he is doing it at his own request. It seems that he wanted to be away from Lorvoire for a while.’
Then, treating her to one of his more odious smiles, he closed the door.
As soon as she was able, Claudine went to see Liliane. She had intended to make her enquiries very casual, but she should have known that there was little point in pretending with a woman like Liliane St Jacques.
‘He has left a message for you, chérie,’ Liliane said, the moment she saw Claudine’s anguished face. ‘Now sit down, and I’ll pour you some coffee before I tell you what it is.’
Struggling with her impatience, Claudine pulled out a chair and took off her hat and gloves. Liliane seemd to take an age, and suddenly, unable to bear it a moment longer, Claudine said, ‘Can I have the letter now, Liliane? Please!’
Smiling, Liliane put the coffee on the table. ‘I didn’t say a letter,’ she answered, ‘I said a message, and it is here.’ She tapped the side of her head, then pulling out a chair for herself she sat down next to Claudine. ‘He has gone away for a while,’ she began, ‘because he is afraid. Afraid of his feelings for you, and yours for him.’
‘But why should he be afraid? I love him, Liliane. I know it might sound crazy when …’
‘No, it doesn’t sound crazy. I knew, probably before either of you, what was happening between you. I saw it, and knew that you were powerless to stop it. I don’t know if there is a solution for you, I cannot even begin to predict a future that would see you together, especially now you’ve had the baby.’ She sighed. ‘Of course, it is wrong even to be thinking like this – but we none of us can choose with whom we fall in love.’
She stared distractedly down at her hands. ‘He wanted to give you both some time to think,’ she went on. ‘He wanted you to have the chance to see how it would be if he were no longer here. He has the freedom to leave Lorvoire, and you do not. That’s why he is prepared to leave for good if that is what you want.’
‘But how could I want that?’
‘You don’t now, but you might one day. Armand believes that you will always love each other, but that your love might destroy you. You are married to François, Claudine, and François will never let the baby go, and nor will you. That means you will always be married to him. Armand is prepared to live with that, to settle for whatever you can give him, but he is afraid that what he can give in return may not be enough for you. He will return to Lorvoire sometime in August, by which time you may have decided what you want him to do. If you decide he must leave, I shall do nothing to stand in his way …’ She bowed her head as her eyes filled with tears.
‘Please don’t be afraid,’ Claudine whispered, reaching for her hand. ‘I won’t ask him to go, I couldn’t. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but …’
‘You may think it is selfish, but it isn’t, chérie, not really. You deserve to be loved, and so does my son. But my poor Armand has been through so much already … I can’t help wishing that François had found it in himself to love you, for then, perhaps …’ She smiled sadly and squeezed Claudine’s hands. ‘The ways of fate are strange, Claudine. Who knows, maybe one day you and Armand will find happiness together. One day …’
She stopped, and as Claudine met her wise, knowing eyes she suddenly had the feeling that Liliane was holding something back from her.
‘What is it, Liliane?’ she whispered softly.
Liliane shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she answered. ‘Nothing more than the silly fears of an old woman.’
‘Fears? Oh, Liliane, I will never do anything to hurt him, I swear to you …’
‘That’s not what I’m afraid of. It’s …’
Again she looked into Claudine’s eyes, and instinctively Claudine knew what she had been about to say. ‘It’s François, isn’t it?’ she said.
Liliane looked away, but Claudine knew she had been right. She knew because suddenly she could sense François’ presence, as though he were sitting there in the room with them.
She didn’t press Liliane any further that day, but she was sure now that in some way she didn’t yet understand, François was manipulating all their lives.
Élise had never been so relieved to see anyone go. Monique had been in her drawing-room the whole afternoon, harping on about her conscience in a way that made Élise want to slap her.
‘I don’t have the stomach for this sort of thing, Élise,’ she had wailed. ‘I can’t carry on with it. If you’d seen her body lying there at the foot of the stairs you’d know how I feel. I should never have talked Jean-Paul into employing Philippe, I should never have allowed you to talk me into any of it. I …’
‘Just a minute!’ Élise interrupted. ‘As I remember it, you came to me asking how we might be rid of The Bitch.’
‘Yes, but I was angry then, and jealous. I suppose I still am jealous of her, but I didn’t want the baby harmed, not really. I know that now; just holding him in my arms, I could die to think of what almost happened to him, and that I was partly responsible. I hope you don’t think that Philippe can come back to the château, because …’
‘He’s not coming back!’ Élise snapped.
‘That’s good, because if he did I should feel obliged to tell François who he is.’
‘You’re too late for that, François already knows.’
Monique’s eyes rounded with horror. ‘He knows?’ she gasped. ‘Oh my God, he doesn’t know I had anything to do with it, does he? Élise, you didn’t tell him?’
‘Of course I didn’t tell him. And as far as I know, he has no idea of your involvement. Now, if it’s all the same to you I’m expecting a visitor.’
Monique stood up and pulled on her gloves. ‘Before I leave I should like to have your word that no more harm will come to Claudine,’ she said.
Élise didn’t even bother to hide her contempt as she swept her eyes over Monique’s petite frame. ‘You have my word,’ she said, ‘for what it’s worth to you.’
‘I confess, not a lot,’ Monique retorted stiffly. ‘In fact, if anything does happen to my sister-in-law I shall know where to come.’
‘Go home, Monique,’ Élise sighed. ‘Go home and ponder on what François would say if I were to tell him how his precious sister tried to kill his son. And while you’re about it, do something about that pathetic jealousy of yours. If you haven’t got the guts to use it, Monique, it’s not worth having.’
‘And you would know, wouldn’t you, Élise?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And if I were to tell Claudine about you?’
Élise burst out laughing. ‘Is that the best threat you can come up with? Go home to your precious nephew, and if I were you I would start guarding him with my life.’ She smiled at the way the blood drained from Monique’s face. ‘Now that’s what you call a threat!’ she sneered.
Of course, Élise thought when she had slammed the door behind Monique, she would have to make it up with her. After all, who knew when she might need her again? But this afternoon she wasn’t in the mood to soothe Monique de Lorvoire’s peevish conscience.
She had been on edge ever since she had received the mysterious telephone call from a man with a German accent telling her someone would be coming to see her on a matter concerning François de Lorvoire. She wasn’t too sure why, but a sixth sense seemed to be warning her that whatever her visitor had to say, she should have nothing to do with it … But she had been intrigued, all the same, and had arranged the meeting for this afternoon. Her unknown visitor was due in less than fifteen minutes.
An hour later, Halunke let himself quietly out of Élise’s apartment. He noted with distaste the blood on his gloves, and peeled them off, looking cautiously along the grey marble landing as he did so. In an apartment downstairs someone opened and closed a door, and he moved instantly back against the wall. Then, when all was silent again, he stripped off the black woollen mask and tripped lightly down the stairs. As he reached the bottom his stomach growled with hunger, and he chuckled quietly to himself; raping de Lorvoire’s mistress had given him quite an appetite.
A fleeting image came to him then, of the way he had left her; sprawled across the floor, her mouth swollen and bloody, her clothes in tatters and her eyes still glazed with terror. He had given her a taste of what would happen if she ever double-crossed the Komitee. But she wouldn’t do that, not now they had guaranteed the death of de Lorvoire’s wife in return for her services.
He grinned. The Pascale woman might have thought herself clever and cunning enough to accomplish that alone – and who could say, perhaps she would have succeeded – but she could be in no doubt now that there was a far, far greater force controlling the fate of de Lorvoire and his family than Élise Pascale. She, like him, was no more than an instrument, a card in the pack, to be played when von Liebermann judged the time right. But he, Halunke, constrained as he was by von Liebermann, would deal the final hand, because for him this vendetta with de Lorvoire was as personal as it was deadly.
He got into his car and started the engine. Checking his mirror to pull away, he was surprised to see de Lorvoire’s sister making her way along the street towards the Pascale woman’s apartment. He’d seen her leave, just as he arrived, and wondered what had brought her back. But then he dismissed her from his mind. His main concern now was Armand St Jacques, the vigneron, who, according to the villagers of Lorvoire, was somewhere in Burgundy. Laughing at that he pulled out into the traffic, and wondered how long it would be, now that the child was born, before St Jacques succeeded in seducing de Lorvoire’s wife. Not long, he decided, as de Lorvoire himself had seen to it that she was easy prey. Halunke’s laughter died and his hands tightened on the wheel. The situation between the vigneron and de Lorvoire’s wife suited him perfectly, for now, but what he really wanted to know was how long would de Lorvoire allow it to continue?