BY THE TIME they arrived at Lorvoire it had been dark for some hours. From where she was sitting in the back of the Citröen, Claudine had watched François throughout the journey, every now and again catching a glimpse of his thunderous face in the mirror as he drove furiously through the night. Before they left she had telephoned Tante Céline to ask her to go to the Ritz for Monique. She would have gone herself, except that she didn’t want to leave François. But as she’d bandaged his hand and they’d waited for Monique, she had watched him withdraw so deeply into himself until he had appeared almost oblivious to her presence.
Absently, she stroked Monique’s hand where it was resting in her lap. She knew from the steady sound of her breathing that she had finally fallen into a doze. She had taken the news badly; as they set out she had become almost hysterical, recalling the last time they had all been in Paris, when her father had stood at the drawing-room window with an arm round Solange, waving her off … To where? She couldn’t remember. All she remembered was that he had been standing there, his kind, smiling face reflecting all the love he felt for his daughter … At that point she had collapsed into Claudine’s arms, and Claudine had stopped trying to persuade François to let her drive.
Now, as he steered the car into the drive of the château, he said in a voice made hoarse by too many cigarettes, ‘I’m sorry. I know how much you loved him. You must be hurting too.’
She was, but that didn’t matter when she could see how brutally he was fighting his own pain. For now she had to be strong, and keep herself together for him, and for … She closed her eyes as she wondered how Solange had taken the news, and she knew that was uppermost in François’ mind too as he pulled the car to a halt outside the front door.
As they got out, Lucien came down the steps to greet them. He took Monique in his arms, then turned to François.
‘How is Maman?’ François asked.
‘She hasn’t cried yet,’ Lucien answered. Then with a sigh he added, ‘I wish she didn’t worry about me so, it’s only that that has stopped her. She feels she has to be strong for me.’
François nodded, then turning to Claudine he took her by the elbow and ushered her into the château.
They found Solange in the semi-darkness of the family room, sitting beside the fire in the deep, worn armchair Louis had always used. Her eyes were wide and staring, and Claudine’s heart turned over as she saw how harshly she was wringing her hands. As they walked in, Doctor Lebrun and Father Pointeau got to their feet, but François ignored them as his mother’s tormented eyes met his. They all heard her choke, then turned away as a heart-rending cry broke from her lips and she stumbled into her son’s arms.
Solange’s body was racked by sobs as François led her from the room, and as the door closed behind them Monique turned to Claudine, burying her face in her hands.
‘Poor Maman!’ she cried. ‘Oh, poor, poor Maman! What is she going to do without him, Claudine? He was her whole life.’
‘Ssh,’ Claudine whispered, putting her arms around her. ‘François will take care of her. So will we.’ She took the glass of brandy Lucien held out, and put it to Monique’s lips. ‘What was it?’ she said quietly, looking at Doctor Lebrun. ‘How did he die?’
‘He had a heart-attack,’ the doctor answered, shaking his head sorrowfully.
‘It could have happened at any time,’ Lucien added. ‘We all knew that. But it still comes as a shock.’
They all looked up as the door opened and Jean-Paul, the butler, came in. ‘Monsieur asks if you will wait to speak to him,’ he said to Doctor Lebrun.
Doctor Lebrun nodded, and Jean-Paul went quietly from the room. Many of the staff had left now, either to join the army or to go to work in the factories, but there was still Arlette, the cook, and the ladies’ maids who would need his comfort that night.
‘I want to go to Maman,’ Monique said, but as she started towards the door Father Pointeau put a hand on her shoulder.
‘Leave her for now,’ he said. ‘She needs to cry, and François is the only one she feels she doesn’t have to be strong for. She’ll sleep soon anyway, the doctor has given her some pills.’
Monique allowed Claudine to lead her to the sofa. Lucien came to sit the other side of her and Claudine held them both as they wept and talked of their memories, laughed, and wept again.
It was long past midnight by the time Claudine and Lucien took Monique up to bed. Then, hugging each other, they parted outside her door and Claudine went up to her apartment.
Despite her tiredness and the dull, distant ache around her heart, she could feel the gnawing pangs of hunger. It was hours since she had had a meal, but she knew that if she tried to eat she would be unable to. François was with Doctor Lebrun now, they had been together for some time but it wasn’t only that which told her there was something odd about Louis’ death, it was the way François himself had reacted to the news.
More than an hour passed before she heard his footsteps on the stairs, and as the door to the sitting-room opened she turned away from the fire to look at him. His anger seemed to have abated, but his pale, scarred face was ravaged with exhaustion.
‘You should have gone to bed,’ he said.
‘I wanted to wait.’
His eyes were blank as they looked into hers, but when she took a step towards him he turned away. ‘Go to bed,’ he said.
‘François,’ she pleaded.
‘No!’ he cried angrily. ‘Just go to bed.’
But she put her arms around him anyway, and to her relief he pulled her against him and buried his face in her neck.
They stood like that for a long time, neither of them speaking or moving. The only sound was the wind outside and the gentle tick of the clock.
‘Come along,’ she said finally. ‘Come to bed.’
As he raised his head she looked up into his face and saw that his eyes were dry and empty.
‘I can’t,’ he said gruffly.
‘But you must, you’re exhausted.’
He shook his head. ‘I mean, I can’t come with you.’ And before she could protest, he pulled away from her, saying, ‘Go to your room. Go now, before …’
‘But François …’
‘No, Claudine! I know what you’re going to say, but you must forget what happened between us today. You must put it from your mind, pretend it … Get your annulment, marry Armand. Then get as far away from me as you can, do you hear me? As far away as you can.’
‘No!’ she cried. ‘I can’t pretend that I don’t feel the way I do, and neither can you. We’ve got to stop this, François! You love me, I know you do …’
He put his fingers over her lips. ‘Don’t say any more. Just do as I tell you, Claudine. Please!’ And before she could protest any further, he walked into his room and locked the door behind him.
He knew that it was going to take a great deal more than a mere door to shut her out now, and as he stood in the middle of his darkened room, staring sightlessly down at the bed, he could still feel the softness of her body against his and the raging need to hold her again. But the death of his father had been a cruel and senseless reminder of why he could not give in to the demands of his heart. He still had no way of knowing if Halunke had been responsible, but the timing was too much of a coincidence for him to ignore, despite what Doctor Lebrun had told him. It seemed Louis had been down at the chapel, praying, when his heart went into arrest. There had been no one around to help him, but he had managed to drag himself to the door, where Armand had found him. By then he was already dead.
His one hope now was that Erich had managed to get to him before he died – he simply could not bear the thought of Louis going to his grave in the belief that his eldest son was a traitor. But whether Erich had reached him or not, there was no possibility now of being disinherited. He was already the Comte de Rassey de Lorvoire, and nothing he or anyone else could do would change that.
And that was why, in his heart, he knew that there was more to his father’s death than Doctor Lebrun realized. Halunke was here, he could feel it in his bones. Von Liebermann had sent him as retribution and reminder.
Squeezing his eyes tightly closed, he let his head fall forward. Dear God in heaven, how was a man to choose between his family and his country? He would never dare to risk deceiving the Germans again, not after this. And yet … perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps the death had been as Doctor Lebrun said. As long as there was doubt, there might still be a way …
He was woken early the following morning by a knock on his door, and as Jean-Paul came in with the letter on a silver salver, he knew even before he opened it that the shred of hope he had clung to was already gone. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper, and on it was written just one word – LOUIS.
Over the next few days, as first Tante Céline arrived and then her father, Claudine watched François build a barrier around himself so invincible that she feared she might never get through to him. He went out of his way to avoid her, and though it hurt her deeply to do it, she decided to keep her distance too, knowing that her presence only brought him pain. But she always knew where he was, and if he wasn’t with Solange or in the nursery with Louis and Corinne, he was out riding in the forest. When he returned, soaked by the rain or frozen by the wind, she could see he was still no closer to sorting out the confusion in his mind than when he had set out. Occasionally she would find him watching her, maybe at the breakfast table, or as she walked up the stairs to their apartment – but the instant she met his eyes he turned away. They had barely spoken since the night of Louis’ death, yet somehow she knew that she was almost constantly on his mind, and instinct told her that he was trying to reach a decision concerning their marriage.
Then one morning she saw him talking to Armand outside the wine caves. She watched from an upstairs window, dreading to think what he might be saying. But no matter what, and even if he told her there could never be anything between them, she had made up her mind that she would remain his wife until the day she died. He couldn’t stop her loving him – but how much easier it would be for them if he could find it in himself to trust her! To tell her what was going on … When he left, as she was sure he would sooner or later, and Lucien rejoined his regiment, she would be responsible for Solange and Monique. And if they faced a threat as dangerous as she now suspected, then the only way she could see of combating it was to know precisely what it was.
It was in the early hours of the morning following the day of the funeral that Erich von Pappen finally came to the château. François let him in through the nursery landing and led him past Claudine’s bedroom to the sitting-room.
‘How is Élise?’ he said, knowing that von Pappen had been with her for the past five days.
‘Better now,’ von Pappen answered, taking the cognac François held out. He went to sit on the chair beside the fire. ‘It was the worst I’ve seen her,’ he said with a sigh, ‘or I would have come sooner.’
‘She was bad the night I was there,’ François said, lighting a cigarette. ‘She woke up screaming, but when I went into the room she wouldn’t let me near her. She thought I was Halunke.’ He drew on his cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘It was terrible, I’ve never seen anything like it. It was as though she was possessed by some kind of demon. I guess she is, if fear is a demon.’ He paused for a while as he remembered that night, and how she had gnashed her teeth, torn her hair and thrown herself savagely against the wall. But once she recognized him she had allowed him to carry her back to bed, where he had lain with her, holding her in his arms until she had finally fallen asleep again.
From the corner of his eye von Pappen watched François curiously. He had been in François’ employ for five years now and probably knew him better than any man, which was why he was so quick to detect the change in him. He wasn’t sure yet what it was, except that the customary harshness was absent from his eyes. Perhaps the death of his father had in some way softened him – which, von Pappen decided, was no bad thing, providing it didn’t in any way affect his judgement.
‘I just wish to God she knew who he was,’ François sighed. ‘What about you, have you come up with anything yet?’
Von Pappen twitched as he too lit a cigarette. ‘No. But I think I’m a little closer now than I was before.’
‘Oh?’
‘I still have no idea who he is, but I think his revenge could have something to do with Hortense de Bourchain after all.’
François showed no sign of surprise. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked, going to sit on the sofa.
‘I don’t know. It’s just a hunch, but it’s one I’m going to pursue a little further.’
François said no more on the matter. This was von Pappen’s way; and as soon as he had anything worth reporting, he would do so. ‘Did you see my father before he died?’ he asked, feeling himself tense in dread of the answer.
‘Yes.’
‘You told him everything?’
‘Yes.’
François’ relief was evident. Grinding out his cigarette and lighting another, he said, ‘So what happened that morning?’
Von Pappen twisted in his chair so that he could see François better. ‘I did as you said, and made contact with Corinne,’ he told him. ‘She arranged for me to meet the Comte down at the mairie first thing in the morning. The Mayor of Chinon was due to arrive at eleven, with a delegation of officials from Tours, to discuss the distribution of rations. I was to go in as an early arrival from the delegation – in disguise, of course – which I did. By the time the delegation arrived I had managed to persuade your father to disown you, and though he was unhappy about it, he was finally persuaded that it was the only way. I stayed for the meeting, and as we left the Comte whispered to me that he was going over to the chapel to pray for you, and that I was to tell you that he loved you deeply. That was the last time I saw him. I knew nothing of his death until Béatrice told me when I arrived back in Paris.’
François’ face was strained. He took a deep breath and let his head fall back against the sofa.
Von Pappen waited quietly, puffing on his cigarette and staring down at the flickering flames in the hearth. ‘I am truly sorry, François,’ he murmured finally. ‘I know how much he meant to you.’
They both looked up as the door opened and Claudine, pulling a blue satin negligé around her, came into the room.
Von Pappen immediately got to his feet, and as François looked at her, her beautiful face flushed from sleep and her raven hair tousled around her shoulders, he felt the pain of his love shoot straight through his heart.
‘I heard voices,’ she said, looking at him.
He smiled, and keeping his eyes on hers, said, ‘Erich, I don’t believe you have ever met my wife. Chérie, may I introduce you to Erich von Pappen.’
‘Madame la Comtesse,’ von Pappen said, walking over to her and taking her hand.
François smiled again as he saw her confusion. This was probably the first time anyone had referred to her by her title, and it was also the first time since the day his father died that he had shown her any affection. But he had done a lot of thinking over the past few days, and had now reached a decision. He hoped to God it was the right one, for it entailed telling her everything. It would be a tremendous burden for her, he knew that, but of all the qualities she possessed, the two he admired perhaps the most were her resilence and her determination. Later, no doubt, von Pappen would accuse him of insanity for listening to his heart rather than his head, but that would only come once Erich was over the shock of seeing him do something he had never done before – which was to trust a woman, and more particularly, a woman he loved.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, surprising both Claudine and Erich. And as she walked uncertainly towards him, he patted the cushion beside him and pulled her into the circle of his arm. ‘I’m sorry if we woke you,’ he murmured, kissing the top of her head as she rested it on his shoulder – and he almost laughed to see the astonishment on von Pappen’s face.
He knew that for a while Claudine would be too dazed to take in much of what they were saying, but he would go over it again in detail when Erich had left. For now, he could feel the barrier he had built around himself over the past few days begin to re-erect itself – this time to include Claudine. And he was amazed and gratified by how right it felt.
‘Have you any messages for me?’ he said to von Pappen, who had returned to his chair.
‘You mean from…?’ Von Pappen’s eyes moved incredulously to Claudine.
‘Yes, I mean from von Liebermann,’ François said, keeping his eyes on von Pappen and at the same time running his fingers lazily through Claudine’s hair. ‘Erich,’ he added, looking down at her, ‘is my courier.’
She nodded, remembering now where she had heard the name before. Louis had mentioned it the day the lorries full of boxes arrived.
‘Go ahead, Erich,’ François encouraged.
‘Er well, yes,’ von Pappen stammered. ‘Er, he sympathizes over the loss of your father, but would like you to return to Berlin within the next week.’
Claudine stiffened, and François hugged her. ‘His condolences are somewhat out of place, Erich,’ he said. And suddenly he wished Claudine wasn’t there to hear this; he would have liked to break it to her more gently. ‘The General, by way of Halunke, is responsible for my father’s death.’
Claudine gasped, and von Pappen’s queer face froze.
‘But it was a heart-attack,’ von Pappen finally uttered. ‘Béatrice said that he had a heart-attack in the chapel.’
‘He did,’ François confirmed. Then reaching out for the envelope on the table, he handed it to von Pappen. And when von Pappen saw what it contained, he was clearly too stunned even to twitch.
He looked at François, and when François nodded, passed the note to Claudine.
‘I will explain it later, chérie,’ François told her. ‘I don’t know how Halunke managed to bring on the heart-attack, but that’s clearly what he did,’ he went on. ‘And just as clearly, he wanted me to know it.’
Von Pappen sucked in his round lips and bowed his head thoughtfully. He didn’t like what he was hearing. Things were starting to add up in a way he didn’t like at all. But for now he would say nothing. Although François was suffering from the temporary insanity of trusting his wife, he was willing to stake every franc of the considerable salary François paid him that she knew nothing about Hortense de Bourchain – and he was most definitely not going to be the one to tell her.
When he lifted his head again he saw that François was whispering to her, their faces so close that for a moment he thought they were kissing. Then, as François’ hand took hers and their fingers entwined, von Pappen could feel the magnetism between them as though it were alive in the air. Quickly he averted his eyes, wishing he could remove his entire self with such speed and silence. Of course he had always known that François loved his wife, he could even pinpoint the day François had realized it himself. But he had never dreamt that François would let it get the better of him like this.
Hearing François give a low, intimate laugh, he fumbled in his pocket for another cigarette. It was only as he lit it and stole another quick look at them that he realized François was laughing at him. And when he saw the way Claudine’s magnificent blue eyes were glittering, how her full lips, so red and enticing, were parted in a smile, he found himself wondering how François had managed to resist her for so long.
‘Are you going back to Paris tonight?’ François asked him. ‘Or would you like to stay here?’
‘I think I’d like to get back, thank you,’ von Pappen answered. ‘If I leave now I should be there by dawn.’
‘As you please,’ François said, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll see you out.’
‘Are you sure this is wise?’ von Pappen hissed, as François walked him round to the nursery landing.
‘I take it you’re referring to my wife?’ François answered with a smile. ‘Well, the answer is, I don’t know Erich – but I’m going to tell her anyway. She has a right to know. Meanwhile, tell Élise I shall be in Paris sometime in the next few days, but at the same time prepare her for my hasty departure. And Erich,’ he said, as he pulled the door open, ‘thank you for looking after her.’
Von Pappen blinked, then turned to cross the bridge into the forest. Not only was François de Lorvoire’s wife one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen, he thought, but she must also be a remarkable woman. In the space of a few short days she had changed her husband beyond recognition. Never, in all the time he had known him, had he seen François display anything approaching the kind of tenderness he had shown that night.
François was still grinning to himself as he walked back into the sitting-room. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I imagine I’ve got a lot of explaining to do now.’ He turned to look at Claudine, and the smile fell from his lips.
She was standing before the dying embers of the fire, lit only by the amber glow of a lamp behind her, so that her hair, cascading over the blue satin on her shoulders, was like the blaze of a setting sun. She was so beautiful that all he could do was look at her. She turned to face him, almost in a dream. She could hardly dare to believe the depth of the love she sensed in him now. She had waited so long, had wanted him so much, and now he wanted her too.
Suddenly an overpowering surge of longing swept through her body, and as if he felt it he moved swiftly towards her, lifting his arms to take her. As their lips met, he eased her head onto his shoulder, pulling her body round so that he could untie the ribbon at her throat. She moaned softly as he drew the robe from her shoulders, then gasped as his hand lifted her breasts free of her nightdress. She looked down at what he was doing, but he took her chin and lifted her mouth back to his. Then, as he pushed his tongue between her lips and sought her nipples with his fingers, a sudden blaze of passion soared through her and she fell against him, sobbing. He pushed her nightgown to the floor, running his hands over the satin smoothness of her thighs.
‘Oh François!’ she choked as he drew her to him. ‘François. Please! Take me here. I want you now. Oh my God!’ she cried, as his fingers found the opening between her legs.
‘Be patient, my darling,’ he whispered, and lifting her up in his arms, he carried her into the bedroom.
‘I want to see you,’ she murmured, as he laid her down on the bed, and she reached out to turn on the lamp.
She watched him strip away his clothes, feasting her eyes on the powerful muscles of his arms, his shoulders, his abdomen. And when he removed his trousers a cry escaped from her lips as she saw the sheer magnitude of his erection.
‘François,’ she sobbed, as he lay on the bed beside her and she turned to push herself against him. ‘Please! Don’t make me wait any more. I want you now.’
The turbulence in her voice so inflamed him that he knew he could not hold back any longer, and quickly he rolled her onto her back, pushed his legs between hers and positioned himself over her. Then, sliding a hand under her hips, he lifted her to meet him, all the time looking down into her face. He eased himself slowly, slowly into her, watching her eyes widen and her head press back into the pillow as he filled her. But before he reached the full depth of penetration, he pulled back and started to push again.
‘Yes, oh, yes,’ she moaned, arching her back to take more of him, but again he pulled away. Then he thrust himself so violently into her that she screamed. He pulled back, and thrust again, and again and again until the storm of their passion broke, engulfing them in a love and desire so all-consuming that it was though they had become one. Her nails dug into his back, her legs encircled his waist, and her breasts bounced over her ribs as he slammed into her harder and harder. He held himself up on his arms and they watched him pump in and out of her, so savagely, so hungrily that her breath stopped and her limbs started to lose power.
He was shooting sensations through her that shattered and exploded and soared into every corner of her body. She was on fire, she could neither see nor speak, all she knew was the unbearable, exquisite sensation that burned around the pulsating stem of his penis. She tried to hold onto him, tried to utter his name, but her breath wouldn’t come and her arms fell away as the blinding rapture of what he was doing shuddered through her in great spasms of ecstasy.
Then she heard herself sobbing, knew that her head was twisting from side to side. Then his mouth was crushing hers, his hands were pushing her legs wider, and as he began to thrust into the core of her orgasm it burst against him, gripping him, pulling him, commanding the seed from his body.
‘Claudine,’ he groaned. ‘Oh my God! Claudine. God help me!’ And with an agonized cry he ground into her with such fury, knowing such ecstasy, that the seed spurted from him. His heart was thumping, his skin glistening with perspiration, and still his seed came. He pulled back, pushed into her again, waiting for the blinding climax to leave him.
When finally it did he lay over her for a long time, struggling to regain his breath and feeling her heart pound against his. He held her tightly in his arms until the strength started to return to his limbs, but when he tried to pull away she clung to him, holding him with her legs. ‘No,’ she murmured, ‘don’t leave me. Don’t go.’ And as her fingers slipped down over his buttocks and pushed between his legs, he knew that he was going to take her again.
Quickly he turned her over, raised her buttocks and buried himself to the full length of his penis. Again she cried out, screaming through clenched teeth, and he took her heavy breasts in his hands, tugged hard at her nipples, squeezing them between his fingers, then pulled her face round to his and sucked greedily at her lips. Then, as he started to circle her clitoris with his finger, she pushed her face into the pillow and sobbed.
A long time later she lay sprawled across him, her arms and legs entwined in his and every pore of her body still tingling with fulfilment. He watched her try to lift her head, but she was still too weak and he chuckled as she gave up. She sank her teeth gently into his arm and idly he traced his finger through the crease between her buttocks. The bed was in turmoil, but he managed to wrench a sheet from the chaos to cover them. Then finally she managed to pull herself up, and looked down at him with eyes that were still dazed.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered. ‘I never knew it could be like that. I never knew … Oh, François …’
He put a finger over her lips, and lifting his head from the pillow, took first one nipple, then the other gently into his mouth. Then, pulling her down beside him and turning her so that he could see her face, he said, ‘There’s something I’ve forgotten to do.’
‘There can’t be anything else,’ she murmured.
‘Oh there is, believe me,’ he laughed. ‘But I wasn’t thinking of that.’
‘Then what were you thinking of?’ she smiled sleepily.
‘I was thinking of telling you I love you.’
Her eyes opened, and as she gazed back at him she felt a choking knot of emotion swell in her throat.
‘And that I’m sorry for all I’ve put you through.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she whispered. ‘Nothing matters except that you love me.’ She snuggled back into his arms, thrilling at the feel of his hard body next to hers, the way its strength and power made hers seem so soft and vulnerable. She was, at long last, where she had always belonged, in his arms and in his heart, and it was as though she had finally found a part of herself that had always been missing. She felt complete.
After a while she looked at him again. His eyes were closed, and her heart tightened with love as she took in every inch of his face: the thick, heavy brows, the hooked nose, the thin lips, powerful jaw, and the unsightly scar. Then, as he opened one eye and smiled, her heart turned over.
She moved onto him, and he put his hands behind his head, looking up at her and watching her face as she sat astride his legs. She ran her hands over his chest, then lowered her eyes to his penis, and as it started to grow she glanced up at him. His eyebrows flickered, and she could see that he was amused by her fascination. Then, taking him in both hands, she caressed him to full erection.
When Claudine woke in the morning the room was flooded with sunlight, and it was several seconds before she realized why her body was aching so. With a smile she turned over – and then her heart contracted with love. For there were her husband and her son together, little Louis’ sleeping face resting on his father’s shoulder. Her eyes filled with tears. Louis came in to her most every morning, but that morning, having found François there, he had obviously climbed into the other side of the bed. He was curled into the crook of François’ arm, his tiny fist bunched under his cheek and his raven black curls tumbling over his forehead. He looked so small beside his father … she could hardly believe this was happening, had never dared to believe she could be so happy.
She looked down at the black mass of hair on François’ chest and tried to resist the urge to touch him. But when she remembered the things he had done to her the night before, desire surged so fiercely through her loins that her hand reached out for him. And when her eyes moved back to his face she found he was watching her.
She followed his hand as she lifted it to cup her breast, and watched the way he rubbed his thumb over her achingly hard nipple. Her eyes closed and her head fell back, but she knew she must try to control herself while Louis was still there. Then she started to laugh as she heard his melodious little voice ask François what he was doing to Maman.
‘She’s a little sore there and I’m making her feel better,’ François laughed, swinging him up in the air and shaking him. ‘And now, young man, it’s time you went back to your own room to get dressed.’
‘But I don’t want to,’ Louis protested, as François deposited him on the floor. ‘I want to stay here with you.’
‘Go and dress!’ François said sternly.
‘But Papa …’
‘Louis!’
Louis hung his head dolefully then promptly sat himself down on the floor.
Claudine saw François’ lips twitch, and had to turn away to hide her own smile.
‘Well, there’s nothing else for it,’ François said, flinging back the sheets and getting out of bed. ‘I’ll just have to throw you out.’
‘But why can’t I stay?’ Louis groaned, still hanging his head.
‘Because Maman and I have something we need to do. Now stop arguing.’ And taking him by the arm, François pulled him to his feet. He realized immediately that it would have been better to pick him up, but it was too late now, and Louis’ black eyes, on a level with his thigh, were round with wonder. François stole a quick look at Claudine and saw that she was convulsed with laughter.
‘I’m glad you found that so amusing,’ François said, when he had closed and locked the door behind his son. And glowering at her darkly, he added, ‘Now I’d better deal with you.’
‘Or I with you,’ she said, still laughing. He came to stand beside the bed and she sat up and put her arms around his waist. ‘I love you,’ she smiled, looking up at him. His hands moved into her hair and she heard his breath quicken as she ran her tongue the full length of his penis.
‘You don’t need to do that, chérie,’ he murmured, pulling her head back.
‘But I want to,’ she answered, and lowering her mouth to his testicles, she took them between her lips and started to suck gently. She had never done anything like this before, it had never even occurred to her, but now it seemed the most natural thing in the world, and when she finally looked up at François’ face she could see what an effect it was having on him … But he had a similar surprise in store for her, and it was almost midday by the time they finally left the bed.
When she joined him an hour later in the sitting-room, he was sitting at the table reading that morning’s newspaper. She sensed immediately that his mood had changed, and when he looked up she saw the deep frown between his eyes. She made to kiss him, but he turned his head so that her lips connected with his cheek. Panic flashed through her; she was afraid that even now, after all that had happened between them, he was going to push her away again. But he saw her fear, and pulling her onto his lap, kissed her full on the mouth.
‘I don’t know what everyone’s going to think,’ he said, when at last he let her go. ‘We’ve been here all morning …’
‘Does it matter what everyone thinks? After all, we are married.’
‘Yes, it does matter,’ he answered. ‘That’s why we have to talk. That’s why we – I – was insane to run the risk of staying in bed with you last night. I should have returned to my own room.’
‘I should have taken a very dim view of that,’ she said, going to sit at the other side of the table.
‘I daresay you would.’ And to her delight, he laughed. He laughed so rarely, but when he did his whole face was transformed.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.
‘Ravenous.’
‘Good. Arlette is preparing something for us now. I’ve asked for it to be served here. I’ve also asked Corinne to keep Louis occupied. Your father is taking the others to Montsoreau for the day; I don’t want us disturbed while we talk. Perhaps by the time I’ve finished you’ll understand why our marriage has been the way it has. Why it was necessary for me to hide my feelings, not only from you but from the rest of the world. It is still necessary, I’m afraid. I don’t have to hide them from you any more, but I do from everyone else. And you must do the same.’
She had already decided that she must be pragmatic, that she must respond calmly and reasonably to whatever he was going to tell her, and she started now. ‘I’ll do whatever you say. But can I ask why you’ve decided to confide in me? And I’m not searching for compliments, only answers.’
He smiled. ‘I took the decision because now that Halunke – that’s the code name for the man who’s been watching you and Armand – now that he’s struck at my family you need to know what danger you face if you stay here.’
‘If?’
‘We’ll come to that later. For now I think it’s better if I start at the beginning, which means going back five years to the time when your father introduced me to espionage.’
‘My father?’ she echoed.
He nodded. ‘He’s not the diplomat you think him, I’m afraid. He too works in Intelligence. In his case, British Intelligence, naturally. In mine, French.’
‘Papa is a spy?’ she said, hardly able to believe it.
‘For want of a better word, yes.’
‘Did Maman know?’
‘No. She died with a great many things unexplained, and that’s something he has never been able to forgive himself for. Which is why I’ve decided that mustn’t happen to us. Not,’ he added quickly, ‘that you are going to die; at least not this week.’
‘I hope that was a joke!’
He laughed, but then his face became serious again. ‘You’re facing a very real danger, Claudine. The man the Germans have employed to ensure my commitment to them is also waging a personal vendetta against me. Who he is, and what is at the root of his vendetta, I haven’t yet been able to discover. But I will, I promise you. It’s too late for this now, but I wish to God you had listened to me before we were married and had gone back to England as I advised. Of course you didn’t then face the danger you do now, at least I wasn’t aware that you did, but I still didn’t want you in my life. I was committed to my work and wanted nothing to disrupt it. However, your father, and my own, were determined we should marry, as you know, even though your father knew the risks as well as I. And I had made a promise to my father which I couldn’t go back on. Nevertheless, I tried everything I could to dissuade you from marrying me – but your determination was even greater than theirs!’ He threw her a look to which she responded in kind. ‘So, once we were married,’ he went on ‘the only way I could see of avoiding explanations for my absences was to keep you at a distance. Of course, I didn’t love you then, so hurting you was much easier than it has been since.’
‘Since when? When did you start loving me, François? I’d like to know.’
‘It was the day you almost miscarried with Louis. In fact it must have been before then, but that was when I thought, irrationally, that you were going to die, and then I realized how much you meant to me.’
He stopped as the door opened and Arlette brought in their meal. François continued to talk as they ate, going steadily over the past five years, what he had done, the people he had become involved with.
It was past five o’clock and already growing dark by the time he said, ‘So, as Erich told us last night, I have to be back in Berlin by the end of the week. You understand now why I have to go, and you also understand why our feelings for each other must remain a secret from everyone. And I mean everyone. If you ever feel the desire to confide in someone, don’t. Not even your aunt. It is the only way I can see of keeping you alive. If Halunke found out that I love you, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. I’m very much afraid he’ll try anyway, sooner or later – he can’t be so stupid as to think you don’t matter to me at all.’
‘I’m afraid,’ she began, clearing her throat, ‘that Lucien and Armand both know I’m in love with you. Come to that, Erich knows that you’re in love with me.’
‘That doesn’t matter. Erich can be trusted. They all can, but I still don’t want Lucien or Armand to know how I feel. It’s simply safer that way. Lucien will be rejoining his regiment tomorrow anyway, but Armand is still very upset about the break-up of your affair. If he knew how I feel about you, he might tell his mother, who might tell someone else. And so it goes on. It’s better not to put the burden on anyone – because that, chérie, is what it is. A burden. However, I want to ease it for you as much as I can, which is why I’ve spoken to Armand. I’ve asked him to take you and Louis to America, and he has agreed. I’d like you to go, Claudine.’
‘No.’ She shook her head firmly. ‘I don’t want to, and even if I did, I couldn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘You know why, François. I can’t leave your mother and Monique, not now Louis is …’ She paused and turned her head away for a moment. ‘So I shall stay,’ she said. ‘Please, don’t let’s argue about it.’
He had known that that would be her answer, so he didn’t Waste time arguing. ‘Both Armand and I guessed what you would say,’ he said, ‘so Armand has agreed that he won’t attempt to join the army again, but will remain here to protect you as best he can. I’d never have asked him if there had been anyone else, but there’s no one. And of course he has a very real affection for Maman and Monique. And I presume I can trust you to remain faithful to me from now on?’ he added, with an ironic lift of his eyebrows.
The look she gave him in response was so blatantly seductive that he stood up, walked round the table and gave her a lingering kiss on the mouth.
‘Let’s go back to the Germans,’ she said shakily, as he strolled over to the fireplace and took his cigarettes from the mantleshelf. ‘You say they control Halunke, but I don’t understand how.’
‘It’s very easy. The hold they have over him is simply that if he doesn’t do as they say, they will reveal his identity to me. And he will know only too well that once I know who he is, his days are numbered and he’ll never accomplish his revenge.’
‘But why do the Germans want you so badly? Surely they have their own agents?’
‘Naturally they do. But the contacts I have here in France, in Britain, Italy, North Africa, make me an extremely valuable commodity to them. And having this kind of hold over me – someone endangering my family the way Halunke is – suits them perfectly.’
‘And they gave him permission to kill your father because you deceived them over these Frenchmen? I can hardly believe it. It seems … Well, it seems so extreme.’
‘Their methods are extreme, chérie. Which is why I can’t run the risk of deceiving them again.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘God only knows,’ he sighed. ‘All the information I have given them to date has come from the French Government itself. Or in some cases, the British. But since the Allies have discovered that someone has a personal vendetta against me, they’ve closed ranks – wisely, I must admit – which means they are no longer prepared to give me information to feed to the Germans. And if the Germans don’t get what they want, they’ll tell Halunke he’s free to do as he pleases. Of course, this game we’ve played – the SR, the Services de Renseignements and I – with the Germans was bound to come to an end sooner or later, and it’s my guess the Germans have known for some time they were being duped, not only by me but by three or four other French agents as well. Until now it has suited the Germans to play the game too, but things are changing fast and already the French Secret Service have pulled my colleagues out of Germany. They, of course, don’t face the threat of Halunke. For me, there’s nothing the French can do. They can’t even run the risk of trusting me any longer. And nor should you.’
‘But surely you’re not saying that you’re going to become a traitor?’
‘Who knows? In a month, a year from now they may force me to make a choice between my family and my country. And when it comes to the crunch – which it will do, if we don’t discover Halunke’s identity – there’s no knowing which I shall choose.’
She took a moment to digest this, then looking at him again, she said, ‘Do you have any idea who Halunke might be?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Erich has a hunch, though I think he’s heading down the wrong path.’
‘Have you told him that?’
‘No, because there have been times in the past when I have been wrong and Erich right. That’s why I trust him so implicitly. However, there is someone else, besides von Liebermann, who knows who Halunke is.’
‘Well?’ she said, when he stopped.
‘His name is Max Helber – also a member of the Abwehr.’
‘Will he tell you?’
‘Perhaps. In return for certain … shall we say, favours?’
‘What kind of favours?’
‘The kind of favours I would rather not discuss.’
She looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes dilated. ‘Do you mean …? Is he …?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, my darling, he is a homosexual.’
‘But you can’t do it!’
‘I may have to if Erich doesn’t come up with an answer soon.’
They were both subdued when they went to join the family for dinner, and later, as she lay in his arms, she wanted to weep for the choices that lay before him. She knew from the way he made love to her, without the urgency of the night before, but with a tenderness and feeling that filled her heart with love, that he was thinking the same. If only there was something she could do! But she had no means of providing him with the information the Germans required, nor was she equipped to satisfy the desires of Max Helber.
She lay awake for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing and thinking back over the three years she had known him. It was a terrible pass they had come to now, but nothing, nothing in the world, would ever make her regret marrying him.
Halunke’s breath thickened the fog around his face as he pressed through the forest, his feet slithering in the slimy undergrowth. Once or twice he chuckled aloud to himself, elated by his discovery. So, de Lorvoire did love his wife after all! Even so, there was no reason to make a move on her just yet. It would be much more intriguing to see how far down the road of traitordom he could push de Lorvoire before letting him know that it had all been for nothing … And in the meantime, should von Liebermann for any reason require that de Lorvoire be taught another lesson, why not remove his beloved brother? Or better still, his wife’s protector the vigneron? The perversity of this idea appealed to him strongly, and he laughed even louder.
Pity, he thought, as he got into his car, that the old man had died of his own volition – well, almost. For it was the revelation of his, Halunke’s, identity that had jolted the old Comte’s heart into arrest.