She followed him to the door as the chauffeur began to unload their baggage from the car. The door was opened by a butler in full livery before Maurice had a chance to ring the doorbell.
“Shall I carry the bride over the threshold?” Maurice asked sarcastically.
She didn’t bother to answer and went into the house. As was the custom, the household staff was lined up in the reception hall to meet the new mistress. There were six of them, all in household uniform. Henri, the butler, his wife, Marguerite, who was the cook, and four young girls, maids who would take care of the cleaning and other services. René, the chauffeur, was still outside.
She shook hands with them one by one, acknowledging their curtsies with a slight nod of her head. “Madame la Marquise,” they murmured respectfully.
Just as the introductions were completed, a young man came from one of the closed doors leading to the hall, carrying some papers in his hand. He stopped when he saw them. “Excuse me,” he said in English. “I didn’t realize you were already here.”
Tanya didn’t have to hear his accent to know that he was American, she could tell from the cut of his suit. She glanced from him to Maurice.
“My dear,” Maurice said. “May I present my executive assistant and secretary, Jerry Johnson? Jerry, Madame la Marquise and her daughter, Janette.”
Awkwardly, the American bowed. “It’s a pleasure, Madame la Marquise.”
Tanya didn’t offer her hand. “Mr. Johnson.”
“Would you like to see the house, my dear?” Maurice asked.
Tanya shook her head. “I’m a bit tired from the journey. I would like to rest and freshen up a bit first.”
Maurice nodded. “Very well.” He turned to the butler. “Will you take Madame la Marquise to our suite and see to her comfort.” He turned back to Tanya. “I have some papers to go over with Jerry. I’ll join you in a little while.”
Tanya glanced at the young American. Suddenly many things began to come together in her head. She nodded slowly, no sign of her thoughts showing on her face, then, taking Janette by the hand, began to follow the butler up the stairs.
Slowly Tanya got out of the tub and reached for the giant terry bathrobe and wrapped herself in it. She dried herself quickly, then dropping it on the floor, stood in front of the mirror. The welts and cuts of her wedding night had gone from her body but not from her mind. She slipped into a silk robe and went into the bedroom. She pressed the button for the maid and sat down at the dressing table. There was a discreet knock at the door. “Entrez.”
The maid came in and curtsied. “Madame.”
Tanya looked at her. She was a young girl with dark curly hair and large brown eyes. “What is your name, child?”
“Louise, Madame.”
“Louise, would you bring me some tea, please?”
“With pleasure, Madame.” The maid curtsied again and left the room.
Tanya turned back to the mirror. Idly she touched her hair. The trouble with being a blonde was that it needed touching up every few weeks. She hated the ugly look of dark roots, though many women didn’t seem to mind it. Again there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was the maid returning with the tea, she called out, “Entrez.”
In the mirror she saw the door open. Quickly she pulled the robe closed around her breasts, as Jerry came into the room, a file of papers in his hand. She looked at him questioningly. “Yes?”
“The marquis would like you to sign these papers,” he said.
She nodded. “Put them on the table over there and I’ll get to them.”
He stood there, hesitating.
“Anything wrong?” she asked.
“The marquis said it was important that you sign these right away.”
She rose to her feet and faced him. “Tell the marquis that I will sign nothing until after I have read them.” She held out her hand. “You can leave them with me.”
Automatically he placed them in her hand and turned toward the door. Her voice stopped him.
“By the way,” she asked in a casual voice, “how did you happen to meet the marquis?”
“Several years ago in England,” he said. “I was attached to GHQ as a liaison officer with the Free French forces. When the war was over and I decided to remain in Europe, the marquis was kind enough to offer me this job.”
“I see.” She nodded thoughtfully then smiled. “That must have been a very good thing for the both of you.”
“It was,” he said, feeling more at ease now and smiling. He turned once again, reaching for the doorknob.
“Jerry.”
He looked back at her, his hand still on the doorknob. “Yes, ma’am?”
Her voice was artless. “How long have you and Maurice been lovers?”
She saw the flush creep up into his face and his normally blue-gray eyes grow green with hatred. Then his lips tightened against his reply and he left the room abruptly, the door almost slamming shut behind him.
She was seated at the small breakfast table near the window, sipping tea and reading the file when Maurice came into the room. She glanced up at him. “You could knock,” she said casually. “It’s the polite thing to do.”
His face was flushed and angry. “Jerry told me that you said you wouldn’t sign the papers.”
“Not until after I’d read them,” she said, her voice still casual. She glanced down at the file in her hand. “Now that I have, I won’t sign them at all.”
“Everything was supposed to be transferred into the estate after we were married,” he said. “That was what Wolfgang said we were going to do.”
“That’s what he said,” she agreed pleasantly.
“Then do it,” he said.
She shook her head. “No.”
“You have to,” he said. “I have assumed many financial obligations based on that agreement.”
“That’s unfortunate,” she said.
“Even this house was bought on that assumption,” he said.
“I notice that,” she said. “In your own name personally, but to be paid for out of Wolfgang’s companies with his moneys. I don’t think his intention was to enrich you at his own expense.”
“Then you intend to keep it all,” he said balefully.
“Until I hear from Wolfgang to the contrary.”
“What if you never hear from him?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Under French law you’re liable for the money in any case,” he said.
“I know that,” she said calmly. “But tomorrow I will get in touch with the notaire, and when he makes the necessary changes in the papers, I will make the payment.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
“Just what we agreed on. You will be the director general of the companies. Manage them well and there’s no reason why you too cannot be rich.”
“You won’t get away with it,” he said balefully. “You can be deported.”
“And where will you be if you open that can of beans?” she asked with a faint smile. “Especially when I tell them of the circumstances that led to our marriage.”
He stared at her without speaking.
“You can go now,” she said calmly, dismissing him. “And on your way downstairs inform the butler that I will be ready to look at the rest of the house in a few minutes.”
“Is there anything else Madame la Marquise wants me to do?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes,” she said. “Tell your boyfriend to get his things out of the house before dinner. You know how servants love to gossip. I don’t think it would be an especially nice thing to have them spreading the word all over Paris that Monsieur le Marquis is a pederast.”
She waited until the door closed behind him, then went into the bathroom and opened her cosmetic case. She lifted the top shelf out and placed it on the marble countertop next to the sink. Quickly she emptied the jars of cream and lotion from the bottom of the case until the leather case resting on the bottom was revealed. Then she took
the leather case and held it in her hand.
The gold-tooled lettering shone at her. W v B Schweringen.
She snapped open the case. The silver-steel razors gleamed. Seven of them. One for each day of the week. Labeled in black on the ivory handles. Monday through Sunday. She had found them in the bathroom of the Geneva house and on an impulse had packed them in her case. Now she knew it wasn’t an impulse at all. Suddenly the thought flashed through her mind that Wolfgang hadn’t forgotten them at all. That he had deliberately left them where she could find them.
Quickly she went back into the bedroom and stood in the center of the room. A moment later she had made up her mind. One on either side of the mattress and the headboard. Then one under the mattress on each side at the foot of the bed. One under the cushion of the small couch in front of the coffee table, one more under the cushion of the chaise lounge and the last behind the curtain on the window near the breakfast table.
She took one last look around then returned the leather case to the bathroom just as the butler’s knock sounded on the door.
It took more than two hours for the butler to show the house, and when at last they returned to her room, she complimented him. “You have done very well, Henri. I am pleased.”
He bowed. “Thank you, Madame. Is Madame ready to proceed with the unpacking of her luggage?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I will inform Louise to come and assist you. She should be finished in your daughter’s room by now.” He hesitated a moment. “And what time would Madame like dinner?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“In the dining room?”
She looked at him questioningly. “Why do you ask?”
He was uncomfortable. “Monsieur le Marquis informed me that he would not be taking dinner at home tonight.”
She was silent.
“Perhaps you and the child would be more comfortable in the breakfast room. It’s very cozy in there and looks out on the garden.”
She nodded. “A good idea, Henri. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Madame.” He bowed again and started for the door.
“Henri.”
He stopped. “Yes, Madame.”
“You’ve shown me all the rooms except my husband’s. I would like to see that now.”
“Excuse me, Madame,” he said uncomfortably. “I thought—”
“No. I haven’t seen it. I don’t even know where it is.”
He gestured to a narrow door on the far wall of her room. “If Madame will follow me.”
She looked at the door. Narrower than normal, until now she had thought it was a closet. The door opened into a narrow corridor, slightly less than a meter wide and a little more than a meter long, at the end of which was another narrow door.
He opened the second door and she walked into Maurice’s room. She stood there for a moment. She should have known it. Maurice had taken the best room for himself. All four windows facing the front of the house overlooking the park across the street. And newly decorated in a fashion that was somehow even more feminine than her own room. She walked into the bathroom. Even that was more than twice the size of her bathroom.
She came out of the bathroom to find the butler standing in the center of the room watching her. “Very nice, Henri.”
His voice was guarded. “Yes, Madame.”
“I’ve changed my mind. You do not have to send Louise to unpack me today. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
“Yes, Madame.”
“We will also be changing rooms tomorrow,” she said. “I will occupy this suite, my daughter will move into mine and you will move the marquis’ things into my daughter’s suite.”
“But, Madame—” His voice was shocked.
“Yes, Henri?” Her voice was cool.
“Monsieur le Marquis. Le patron.” He was stammering. “He would not like it.”
She met his gaze steadily. “If I am correct, Henri, le patron is your employer, the person who pays your wages. N’est-ce pas?”
“That is correct, Madame.”
“Then you have nothing to concern yourself about,” she said, her voice still cool. “Since I am the person who is paying your wages, not Monsieur le Marquis, I am la patronne. And the only person you have to please.”
His eyes fell before her gaze. He bowed. “Yes, Madame.”
“One more thing, Henry,” she added. “Tomorrow when you change the rooms you will also have a locksmith change the door locks.”
“Yes, Madame. Will there be anything else, Madame?”
She started back through the narrow corridor. “Let me know as soon as Mr. Johnson has removed his things.”
“He has already left the house, Madame. About an hour ago while we were upstairs on the fourth floor.”
“Good,” she said. She had made her point and knew that he didn’t miss it. “Thank you, Henri.”
“Isn’t Monsieur Maurice having dinner with us?”
Tanya looked across the small table at her daughter. “No, darling. He went out.”
Janette’s voice was curious. “With that girl?”
Tanya was puzzled. “What girl?”
“You know.” Janette’s voice was guileless. “That one. The one that dresses in men’s clothing.”
Tanya stared at her daughter. “He’s not a girl. He’s a man.”
“If she’s a man, why did you send her out of the house?” Janette asked pointedly.
Tanya was surprised. The child saw more than she thought she did. “We need the room for someone else,” she explained, sensing the lameness of her words.
Janette was silent as she finished her soup. She looked up again after Henri had removed her plate. “I still think she’s a girl.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I was downstairs in the kitchen when Monsieur Maurice came down and told her that you ordered her to leave.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s a girl.”
“Then when I was going back up the stairs, I passed her room. She was crying and Monsieur Maurice was kissing her and telling her that everything would be all right. He acted just like she was a girl.”
Tanya was silent. “Maybe he just felt bad,” she finally said.
Janette shook her head. “She was taking dresses out of her closet and putting them in the valise. When they saw me standing there, Monsieur Maurice kicked the door shut with his foot. But they couldn’t fool me.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Tanya said with finality. “Either way, he is gone and will not be back in the house.”
They were silent until after the entree had been served. Janette cut
into her meat. “This is good, isn’t it? French cooking is better than Swiss.”
Tanya smiled. “Yes, darling.”
Janette took another mouthful of food. “I really like it.” Then without changing the tone of her voice, “Does it hurt when Monsieur Maurice puts his big thing in you?”
“Janette!” Tanya was shocked. “Where did you ever learn such things?”
“In school,” Janette answered casually. “All the kids talk about it. Some of them have even seen their mothers and fathers doing it. Do you think sometime you can let me watch when Monsieur Maurice does it to you?”
“No,” Tanya said sharply. “And that’s not a nice thing to talk about. Nice girls never talk about it.”
“I came into your room one night when you and Papa General were doing it. But you didn’t see me, and I went out.” She took another forkful of the meat. “But Monsieur Maurice’s thing is twice as big as Papa General’s. That’s why I thought it might hurt.”
“How do you know such things?”
“Monsieur Maurice always left his bathroom door open when he took a pee. I couldn’t help seeing it. He even knew that I saw him and he used to smile.”
Tanya didn’t know what to say. Maurice had only stayed in Geneva for a week after they were married and then had gone back to Paris to put the house in order, and u
ntil he met them at the train today she hadn’t seen him. “Well, that won’t happen anymore,” she finally said. “Tomorrow you’re changing rooms to the room next to mine.”
“Where will Monsieur Maurice be staying?”
“He’ll be moving into your room.”
“Then he won’t be making a baby in you with his thing?” Janette asked.
“No,” Tanya said definitely.
“Why not?”
Tanya looked at her daughter. Her voice grew gentle. “Because you’re the only child I want. I don’t want any other baby but you.”
A smile suddenly broke over Janette’s face. She left her chair and ran to her mother, throwing her arms around her. “Really?” she exclaimed.
Tanya hugged her. “Really. You’re all the babies I need.”
“I’m glad, Maman,” Janette said. “I don’t want you to have any other baby except me.”
It was almost midnight when she turned the bed lamp off. Her eyelids felt as if they were lead-weighted. It had been a long day, starting before six o’clock in the morning in Geneva. The nine-hour train ride hadn’t been that restful either with its many stops and starts. She had wanted to be awake when Maurice returned but there was no use. She had to get some sleep.
The faint sound of voices and laughter filtered through her sleep. She stirred restlessly, trying to block out the sound, but it was persistent. Finally she opened her eyes and stared at the radium numbers glowing on the alarm-clock dial. It was ten minutes to three. She rolled over on her back, listening to the noise.
It seemed to come through the narrow corridor connecting their rooms. Someone was in there with Maurice, but the sound was too blurred for her to tell whether there was one person or more. She lay quietly in the dark. After a while the sounds seemed to die down and her eyes closed and she drifted off.
She didn’t know how much later it was that the sharp click of the light switch and the sudden flooding of light into the room woke her up. She sat up in bed, her eyes blinking against the blinking lights. Quickly her eyes adjusted.
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