Thus, had Madame informed Chloe that she alone would know the secret of Le Chateau de Cachet when Madame departed with the Patron.
For the rest of the day, they shuttled priceless heirlooms into the secret room, some paintings so large it took both Chloe and Madame to lift them through the passageways. Near the end of the day, exhausted from the heavy work, Chloe feared her parents would come looking for her. She was usually home from her daily job at the chateau long before dusk.
Madame was just opening the glass cases in which she kept the jeweled tiaras and necklaces belonging to the 17th century, when she noticed the shadows creeping along the display hall. "Oh, Chloe, your family will be wondering what I've done with you. Run along, child, or your Maman will worry."
"Non, Madame. They'll send my brother if they are anxious, but Maman would never question your need of me, especially at a time like this."
Weary eyes searched Chloe's face. "Mais oui, a time like this." Madame's slender form shivered as she sighed. "Come then, this is the last of it. I'll show you how to lock up the room."
She handed Chloe a box then swirled away with another. Chloe gaped at the irreplaceable, sparkling jewels in her hands then hurried down the passageway after Madame.
They set the last cases down, and Madame pushed the wall shut, trapping them in the hidden room. It looked as if the wall had never swung away. Anxiety rose in Chloe's chest, but certainly, Madame wouldn't shut up the wall if she didn't know how to get out.
"Now, Chloe, you get out the same way you get in. Only do the opposite. See if you can show me."
Chloe studied the wall. Did Madame mean that you pulled instead of pushed? She inspected the wall, but there was nothing to grasp. She did see a sunken stone at about the same height as the previous one. Perhaps she meant that you count up instead of down. Chloe stood on her tiptoes to tick off five stones above the sunken stone and push. The wall pivoted open once again.
"Bravo! You've done well. I will reward you."
"Non, Madame, it's reward enough to trick the Germans."
They slipped out of the room and closed the wall for the last time. Madame took Chloe's hands tightly in hers. "Swear to me you won't even tell your Maman and Papan."
Chloe crossed herself and held her right hand in the air. "I swear it. No one in the village will ever know what you've done with the treasures…the Germans either."
"Hurry home, now, Chloe."
Chloe rushed down the stairs of the parapet to the drawbridge, where her older brother, by two years, lounged against the railing. He tousled her hair. "What kept you Chloe-girl? I feel like I've been waiting hours. Maman is quite beside herself." Chloe didn't answer so he grabbed at her arm. "Did the Duchess have you traipsing after her all day like her little dog?"
Chloe glared at him. "Stop calling her that, Jean-Claude. She is not a Duchess. She doesn't act that way at all. We were just getting ready to leave like everyone else around here."
Her brother hooked his arm through hers, and they walked through the chaotic streets toward home. "Actually, you simpleton, the Patron does have a title, Vicomte Paul Philibert de La Cachet."
Chloe was in an argumentative mood, and she was tired of her brother's superior attitude. "If they no longer own the chateau, why do they retain the title of their name?"
"They don't stop being nobility just because they can no longer afford the upkeep on that monstrosity of a castle."
Jean-Claude was baiting her, but she felt like fighting someone. Since it couldn't be the Germans, it might as well be Jean-Claude. "Hah, the castle is tres magnifique, and you're just jealous because you work in the vineyards all day."
He slapped her on the behind, and when she reared back and socked him, he looked as if he might do her real bodily harm. Chloe took off, sprinting toward home.
"You better run to Maman, you enfant!"
Chloe burst through the door of their home, nearly out of breath, and ran into her father. "Pardon, Papan."
"What do you think you're doing, child? Is the whole German army after you already?"
"Non, Papan, only Jean-Claude."
Her father smiled indulgently. "Why don't you help Maman?"
"Oui, Papan."
In the kitchen, Chloe's mother looked at her in relief as she wiped flour from her hands onto the apron tied around her ample waist. "Ah, Chloe, why are you so late returning from Madame?"
"Madame and Patron are leaving, Maman. She needed help to pack her things." Chloe sat at the kitchen table and rolled out the dough her mother was preparing. "Are we leaving as well? All the villagers are emptying their cottages."
"You worry too much. We'll do what we have to do. Right now, we prepare enough food for several days."
Chloe continued to roll out the dough, but she wondered who would guard the dam on the Saone River if all the villagers abandoned their town. "Maman, what about the canal locks?"
"Questions, questions. Chloe, keep your thoughts on the task at hand. That canal has nothing to do with you. Your Papan will decide what's best." Maman may not want to speak of trouble, but it lined her tired face.
That evening, dinner was a nervous affair. Though Chloe's parents said very little, her brother was full of comments he'd heard all day. "They hoisted the swastika on the Eiffel Tower, and in Paris, the people are roasting dogs for food." Chloe grimaced, and her mother gave Jean-Claude a glare. "I also heard all of Paris is covered with black smoke because the citizens set fire to the petrol dumps before they fled." He looked at Chloe with the superior knowledge of age. She was mightily sick of his gloating. "So the Nazis couldn't use the petrol for their war- machines."
"Of course." Chloe agreed offhand, though she'd not thought of it. She hadn't had time to think of it.
Everyone in her family still treated her like a child. In fact, everyone in the village treated her like a child. It was her face, she despaired, and not for the first time. It still held the wide-eyed innocence of untried youth. Long, brown hair still hung freely like that of any young maiden. Chloe had done nothing to make herself appear mature. What was the use? She knew every boy in the village, and she had no interest in any. Not that it would do her much good. Her father was the Prefect, well- respected in town, and he'd made it obvious he considered Chloe too juvenile for young men to dare approach her. She grinned. Her face and winsome figure drew many appreciative glances, which she was in mind to encourage from time to time, knowing she could hide behind Papan and Jean-Claude.
After everyone retired for the night, Chloe felt restless. She rose, stumbling in the darkness, to wander through the house. Outside her parents' bedroom, she heard muffled voices.
"I've heard surrender is certain."
"Then why do we not leave, Remy?"
"Rachelle, with Mussolini attacking from the south, and the Germans from the north, where would we flee? If we made it to the Channel, how would we get to England? The Germans have almost completely covered the coast. They'll surely stop those attempting to leave the country."
Chloe heard her mother's soft sobs. "What can we do?"
"We'll have to see what our government proposes. Perhaps, later on in the confusion, we can get Chloe and Jean-Claude out of France. Now, try to go to sleep."
Chloe padded in her bare feet back to her room, climbed into bed to pull her knees up under her long flannel gown. Her dangling, braided hair dropped into her lap, and she tossed it back restlessly. She could never sleep now. Angry thoughts coursed through her mind. How could her government give up? If they let her fight, she would never surrender. What could cause a man to be so afraid that he would give up his freedom? She lay back as tears fell from her eyes.
It didn't seem like she'd been asleep more than a few moments when she heard the first blast. She lay there dazed as she tried to determine what had awakened her. Another boom sounded, but it didn't seem very close. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window. The sun was just rising, and she could see smoke billowing over the trees. The Germans
were in the distance! Would they kill her and her family? She ran to her parents' room with Jean-Claude close behind her. His wide eyes looked as frightened as she felt.
"Maman, Papan, will they kill us?"
"Calm yourself, Chloe." Her father pulled on a pair of boots. "There are no French troops here. The Germans will make sure we don't resist, and they'll move on. Get dressed, please."
As Chloe turned to go out, her mother gave her a weak smile. Chloe ran down the hall to her own room and dressed as quickly as she could. She didn't want to miss anything important…or dangerous.
About ten that morning, Chloe stood in the street with other young people when she heard a strange, melodic sound. She stared in shock as a formation of German troops marched into town. From the front line, a set of fifes played loudly and decisively. Obviously, they knew exactly where they were going, ignoring the villagers to head straight to the bridge over the river Saone. Chloe and her friends followed.
The bridge was the only means of reaching the chateau or the dam, and several terrified, elderly villagers became trapped along the side as the soldiers trooped arrogantly past. The old people could do nothing but fix embarrassed eyes on the water below, until the soldiers disappeared inside the chateau. Within minutes, Chloe's father was summoned, which was no surprise. As town Prefect, he was responsible for the actions of the citizens.
Chloe, her mother, and her brother, waited outside for his return. Chloe spent anxious moments, wishing she could see through the castle walls. Had the castle's ancient treasures been found in the secret anteroom?
Papan wasn't gone long, merely a half-hour, but when he traversed the bridge, he looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His head was high, but his countenance was sorrowful as he strode past his family to the small town hall. The villagers who remained in town came out of their homes and followed him. It said much for their faith in her father and their fear of the Germans, when they didn't all demand answers as one.
He stood at the front of the room, waiting until he recognized a representative from each of the remaining families. "Our country has surrendered and will sign an armistice today, if it hasn't already. The terms will separate us into two states, the occupied zone, from which the Nazis will rule, and the unoccupied zone, which they will oversee through the office of Marshall Petain in Vichy."
At this statement, several attempted to interrupt, as it was obvious their town was occupied by Germans, yet Vichy was a considerable distance to the north.
Remy held up his hand for peace, and the voices died down. "The soldiers will be leaving to the occupied zone. Until that time, it is requested that we supply whatever they require."
Chloe watched as a flood of emotions crossed the faces of the people she'd known all her life. She recognized elation that they were to remain on the free side, shame that they'd so callously disregarded the rest of their country, and finally, the relief that at least the conflict was over. No one else would have to die.
Maman drew Chloe back to their home while Papan and Jean- Claude stayed behind to settle the questions of the townspeople.
Chloe was disappointed. She wanted to hear news of the conflict and the surrender. "Why are we leaving, Maman?"
"I see no reason to advertise the presence of a young woman before the Germans. You will stay in the house for the next few days. The Patron and Madame are gone, and there is nothing for you to do at the castle."
"I thought Papan said we'll have to take care of the soldiers until they leave our area. I'm the only one who'll know what to do with Madame's things."
"Non, Chloe, I'll get some of the other women to help me. We'll make do. I'll not have you cooking, cleaning, or making beds for Nazis."
For the next few days, although Chloe spent all her waking hours cooking and washing laundry for the troops, her mother kept her secluded at home. The strain of worrying about the hidden room ceased when her father came to her one night.
"Chloe, the German commander wishes to know what happened to the treasures from the chateau. Did you not say that Madame packed them away to take with her?"
Relief flooded Chloe. If they were asking after the treasure, they hadn't discovered the secret. "Oui, Papan. I helped Madame pack. She said she'd leave nothing for the Germans to steal."
Her father's eyes bored into hers. Did he believe her? There was some truth to what she said, and surely her father didn't expect her to tell him where the treasures were really hidden.
"I see. I'll tell them what you say, but I doubt they'll believe Madame took all the chateau's many paintings in the sedan."
"Perhaps the Patron took his little cart behind the sedan, Papan. I did help take the paintings down and wrap them."
Her father grasped at the suggestion gratefully. "Oui, perhaps that is so."
The last few days had aged her father considerably. The German commander demanded to know all about the workings of the canal locks. Her father revealed what he knew. The machinations of the canal were no secret, and he saw little reason to prevaricate. The commander also asked how many men had gone out from the village to serve in the French army. This was something her father had been hesitant to share. They'd sent nearly thirty men from their small village, and with the flight of so many other families, the village was left almost completely without any younger men of strength. Chloe's own brother had narrowly escaped the call to arms. He'd been right at the cut-off age and had expected to be sent up in the reserves, but the government hadn't asked for any reserves. Chloe scowled at the thought. Perhaps if they had, France wouldn't have lost the war.
Over the days, a trickle of bedraggled refugees wandered through the village. It soon became a flood as people returned to the neighboring towns. Chloe wished fervently that Madame wouldn't reappear before the Germans departed. It would cause no end of problems if the Germans were to find out they'd been deceived.
Abruptly, the Germans left, and life in the village returned to a somewhat even keel. Madame and Patron returned to the chateau, but the treasures remained hidden. Neither Chloe nor Madame referred to them again.
Jacob came through those trying months with a certainty that he could best serve England by remaining in France to aid the Resistance. In September, 1940, using the alias Jacques Conran, he met with a group in Vichy, at Hotel des Sports.
Their chief, Commandant Georges Loustaunau-Lacau, better known as Navarre in the Resistance, began the meeting with a decisive announcement. "I have decided that Marie-Madeleine will lead this section of the underground."
The small, trim woman dropped a stack of paperwork to confront him. "No, Navarre. The people look to your leadership."
"I'm needed elsewhere. You're the ideal candidate to head the resistance. You've got the charm and beauty to fool the Germans plus the brains to mobilize our staff."
"But, I don't-"
"I'm sorry, Marie-Madeleine. I have to leave immediately. Please carry on the briefing."
The great man favored them all with an encouraging smile and walked out. Privately, Jacob agreed with Navarre's choice. Marie- Madeleine's ability to recognize talents and assign volunteers to their most appropriate posts amazed him. But, it was still the great man who motivated their zeal.
Marie-Madeleine stared after Navarre for several seconds before she faced the group.
"Navarre divided up all France into sectors. Each must have an agent that can move freely across the demarcation line, watching the enemy, and recording all new developments. At some point in the future, our allies will want to know where every German soldier or armor battery is stationed. If we have our organization in place, we'll be able to tell Britain where to strike."
"What's your first move?" asked Jacob, wondering how he would be used.
She spread out a map of France, marked extensively in red pencil. "Find men who show they're responsive to active resistance. Radio operators, railway-men, truck drivers, commercial travelers, especially those able to move from one zone to an
other without suspicion."
"I'll see what I can turn up."
"And Jacques…train the recruits in sabotage techniques."
"You can count on me."
With that, Marie-Madeleine returned to her maps and lists of available agents.
The small group of patriots relied on Jacob and the training he'd gained from military intelligence before joining them. At their next meeting, he faced the men and women who'd become his family. Each held his life in their hands, as he did theirs. If their work ever became known to the Vichy government, all would pay a heavy penalty, probably death.
"If we're to be successful at receiving goods through the means of parachute drops, we need to locate suitable terrain. Jiroud, where would you want to land if you were coming down at night with a valuable packet of supplies?"
"I think somewhere flat and open, so I wouldn't get snagged in a tree…but with woods nearby to bury the shipping containers."
"Excellent. That's your first assignment. London is waiting for a list of suitable locations for drop zones."
"Tips for tonight…Always hide something in plain sight. The Germans will look for deep cover…root cellars, attics, so hide your secrets in front of their faces. Also, never walk into a room without first searching out possible hiding places and exits. You never know when you'll be raided. No location is safe."
Marie-Madeleine nodded. "Very good, Jacques. We received our first drop. I'd like you to explain how to use these items effectively."
Jacob opened the box and pulled out the first packet. He laid a flat card on the table, and snickers followed his movements.
"Buttons?" asked Jeanette. "I have those at home."
"These aren't your average buttons." Jacob said with a smile "Each is a compass. You sew one on all your clothing. If you get lost on a job, they'll help you."
He added belt buckles and a small pile of signet rings to the table. And last, he removed his boots and set them in sight. "Hollow out the heels of your shoes to conceal secret messages. These belt buckles hold a knife. If you're captured, cut yourself free. The rings…" He held one up. "As a last result, pop off the signet stone and take the L-pill."
All Things New Page 3
