Darkest Longings

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Unlike Maman,’ Monique said ruefully.

  Céline chuckled. ‘And neither is your mother as dizzy as she would have us all believe.’

  ‘I know,’ Monique sighed. ‘It’s just her only way of coping with it all.’

  Céline bowed her head, then reaching out for Monique’s hands, she took them between her own and said, ‘You’re afraid, chérie, aren’t you? You are afraid that Claudine will fall in love with Lucien.’

  Again Monique’s eyes were swamped by tears as she tried to turn away.

  ‘It’s all right, I understand,’ Céline soothed. ‘I know how much you love François, how much you love both your brothers. But you must try to forget what happened with Hortense, chérie. It was an accident.’

  ‘Of course it was an accident! How could it have been anything else? Oh, I know what everyone was saying at the time, but Lucien couldn’t help it, Céline, he didn’t mean things to turn out the way they did. He loves François as much as I do. They are close, as close as brothers can be.’

  ‘That is true,’ Céline acknowledged. It was perhaps the one thing she admired about François, his devotion to his family. ‘But now you are afraid that the same thing is going to happen again?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No,’ Céline lied. ‘And neither is Beavis. He and François have spoken about what happened to Hortense, and he has no reservations about François marrying Claudine.’

  ‘Then he is a fool! François will never love her, they will never have the kind of marriage you want for her. Do you know what François said to me after their meeting last week? Claudine was frivolous beyond endurance, and that if he hadn’t given his word to Beavis he would call the whole thing off. Don’t you see she’ll marry him, and he won’t love her, and then shell, she’ll –’

  ‘Fall in love with Lucien?’

  ‘She’s bound to, Céline! Everyone does.’ Monique buried her face in her hands. ‘I don’t understand why she hasn’t returned to London. Why is she still here, Céline? What is she trying to prove by marrying François?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, chérie. That’s a question only Claudine can answer. But he hasn’t asked her yet. Maybe she will refuse him.’

  Monique took a deep breath. ‘Do you think so? Do you think she might?’ She sighed. ‘Oh, if only she weren’t so beautiful …’

  ‘Are you going to tell her about Hortense?’ Céline said, after a pause.

  ‘No. François has forbidden it.’

  Again there was silence. ‘Lucien will be there at the château when she arrives with Maman,’ Monique said miserably.

  ‘Then better they meet now, while Claudine is still free to make her choice,’ Céline replied. ‘And there is one fundamental difference between Hortense and Claudine, Monique, which is that François is not in love with Claudine. So if she should fall in love with Lucien now, there will be no harm done.’

  Monique didn’t bother to answer. There were a thousand thoughts spinning around her head, and every one of them was yet another reason why Claudine should not be allowed to stay in Lorvoire. But she would never tell them to Céline, she would never tell anyone. She was too ashamed even to voice them to herself.

  When Monique had left, Céline sat quietly thinking over their conversation. She had a feeling that Monique had only skimmed the surface of her resentment of Claudine, but what really lay at the root of it she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps, as she said, she was just deeply concerned to protect her brothers from another catastrophe like the one with Hortense. Claudine knew nothing about Hortense, of course, and Beavis had forbidden Céline to tell her. And she herself, Céline reflected, did not know exactly what had happened on that fateful night. Only François and Lucien knew; and perhaps their father. And Hortense, she thought, with a shiver.

  Well, she shrugged, getting up from the sofa, there was really no point in worrying any further. It seemed as if Claudine was determined to marry François, and nothing would dissuade her – probably not even his brother Lucien.

  As the shiny red Lagonda skidded to a halt on the gravel outside the Château de Lorvoire, Claudine was laughing so hard she almost lost control of the car. Solange had been singing heartily the whole way; then, on entering the drive she had torn off her hat, hauled herself to her feet, and was now giving a splendid rendition of an old and extremely bawdy music-hall song, clutching the windscreen and jerking her head from side to side as the wind stood her greying tufts of hair on end. Claudine was hooting on the horn to keep her company, and so intent were they upon the climax of their performance that neither of them noticed the young man come out of the château and circle round behind the car, looking it over with marked appreciation and smiling at the din coming from within. It wasn’t until he came to stand beside Solange, hands on hips and head tilted humorously to one side, that they both saw him – where-upon Solange abandoned her song to a screech of joy and threw herself into his arms.

  ‘Lucien!’ she cried, and laughing, her younger son scooped her out of the car and set her down in front of him. Then, to Claudine’s delight, Solange hooked him round the waist and started to quick-step him round the forecourt. As she watched them enjoying themselves so naturally, Claudine’s heart was full. How hard it was to believe that François belonged to the same family!

  At last Lucien twirled his mother to a halt, and slipping an arm around her shoulders, turned back to the car. As they came towards her Claudine’s heart gave an involuntary leap, and for a fleeting moment she felt as though she were in a dream where faces change beyond belief, reality turns into fantasy. It was as though François was approaching her, mocking her, letting her see how handsome he could be if only his eyes were blue and his smile was as ready and sincere as his brother’s.

  She blinked, trying to clear her vision, then found herself placing her hand in Lucien’s as he said, ‘Captain Lucien de Lorvoire at your service, mademoiselle.’

  The twinkle in his eyes was so infectious that Claudine felt the laughter spring to her own as she made a curtsey to his bow. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Monsieur le Capitaine.’

  They both turned to Solange, who was bobbing excitedly up and down beside them. ‘Do you know who this is, Lucien?’ she cried. ‘Can you guess?’

  Lucien frowned thoughtfully, then casting a sidelong glance at Claudine, he said, ‘I imagine, unless I am greatly mistaken, that this is none other than Mademoiselle Rafferty.’

  ‘Yes!’ Solange clapped her hands together delightedly. ‘And isn’t she beautiful? And she drives like a maniac, Lucien, just like you. Oh, it was such fun, and if Papa will allow it I think I shall go again.’

  ‘If it makes you happy, Maman, then I am sure Papa will allow it. But don’t you think that perhaps you’ve had enough for today?’

  As Solange’s face fell, Claudine had to fight the impulse to hug her. ‘You could be right,’ Solange sighed. ‘All right, I shall leave you two to get to know one another. Such a shame you’re not in uniform, Lucien. He looks so dashing in his uniform, you know.’ Then, leaning towards Lucien, she whispered, ‘If you’re feeling exceptionally brave, chéri, you should ask Claudine to take you for a spin, but I warn you, she’s a better driver than you.’ And before he could answer she tripped lightly up the steps and disappeared inside the château.

  Laughing, Lucien turned back to Claudine. ‘She’s incorrigible,’ he said.

  ‘I think she’s adorable,’ Claudine smiled, as she met his clear blue eyes. They looked at each other for several moments, openly assessing one another and both amused by the frankness they were displaying, until, rubbing his hands together in a businesslike manner, Lucien turned to the car.

  ‘So, how about that spin?’

  Claudine inclined her head, and waving her hand towards the passenger seat, pulled open the driver’s door. ‘I warn you, this is not for the faint-hearted.’

  ‘Then do your worst, mademoiselle,’ he said, jumping in.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she calle
d, as she revved the engine and slid it into gear.

  ‘Go!’ he shouted in English.

  And with a spin of the wheel and a screech of tyres, she swung the car round and sped off down the drive, leaving a cloud of dust billowing in their wake.

  ‘Where would you like to go?’ she yelled, as they squealed out of the drive onto the forest road.

  ‘Surprise me.’

  Claudine tossed him a look, then pressed her foot hard to the floor and headed full speed through the trees towards the village of Lorvoire.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ he shouted, as they all but took off going over a humpback bridge.

  ‘Had enough?’

  ‘Never!’

  Laughing, she turned her eyes back to the road – and just in the nick of time, for they had suddenly swallowed the distance between the bridge and a lumbering tractor. Claudine steered the car up the bank, round the tractor, across the road again and into a ditch, where they came to an unceremonious halt.

  ‘And Maman thinks you’re a better driver than me!’ Lucien declared, rubbing his forehead where it had bumped the windscreen.

  Claudine was laughing so hard that for a moment she couldn’t speak. ‘But I am,’ she finally spluttered. ‘If you’d been driving I’ll bet you’d have braked.’

  ‘Damn right I would,’ he said, getting out of the car to inspect it for damage. He slapped his hand on the bonnet as if to give it the all-clear, then turned to wave down the old man who was chugging up in his tractor. Claudine, who was just beginning to get out of the car, took one look at the farmer’s outraged face and decided that it would be wise to leave the explaining to Lucien.

  ‘Oh no you don’t!’ Lucien said, pulling her out from behind him. But just as she was assuming her most winsome smile and bracing herself for the wrath to come, the old man suddenly seemed to surrender.

  ‘Monsieur le Capitaine,’ he muttered, clutching the beret from his balding head. ‘I didn’t realize it was you in the car. Pardon me for saying so, monsieur, but you could have been killed, driving like that.’

  ‘My sentiments exactly, Thomas,’ Lucien told him heartily. ‘It would appear that mademoiselle’s tutor has not adequately schooled her in the art of braking, don’t you agree? But you may rest assured, Thomas, I shall see to it personally that she does no further damage to our ditches.’

  Thomas leaned conspiratorially towards him. ‘I don’t think they should ever have let women behind the wheel myself, monsieur. They don’t have what it takes to control a machine like that. No wits.’

  ‘None at all,’ Lucien agreed solemnly.

  Unable to stop herself, Claudine gave a snort of indignation, which brought such an imperious arch to old Thomas’s brows that Lucien had to turn away before the old man realized he was laughing.

  ‘Incidently, Thomas,’ he went on, once he had himself back under control, ‘before you do the decent thing and get us out of this mess, I think I’d better do you the honour of a formal introduction. Thomas Crouy, meet Mademoiselle Claudine Rafferty, possibly the future Comtesse de Lorvoire.’

  He was looking at Claudine, waiting for her confirmation, but Claudine was watching Thomas, whose confusion was so apparent that she rushed forward to clasp his hand between hers, apologizing for being such a hazard on the roads, lamenting the shame of having so few wits, and promising to take more care in the future …

  ‘That was a rotten thing to do,’ she told Lucien, as ten minutes later they waved Thomas goodbye and drove off at a respectable pace.

  ‘I know,’ he confessed, ‘but he can be such a pompous old cake at times. And better he finds out now who you are than later. Imagine how he would feel then?’

  She threw him a quick glance, then flattened the accelerator and sent the car shooting off down the road into the open countryside.

  A few minutes later, halfway up a hill, he yelled for her to stop, and with a screeching of brakes she pulled into the roadside. ‘Over the brink of that hill are the de Lorvoire vineyards,’ Lucien said, ‘and below them, at the heart of the valley, is the Vienne and the village. It’s a view you shouldn’t miss, so we’ll walk from here.’

  ‘As you like,’ she murmured, but instead of getting out of the car she closed her eyes, stretched her arms above her head and inhaled the fresh country air. Then, allowing her head to fall back against the seat, she sat quietly watching the tiny patches of white cloud as they drifted across the sky.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Lucien asked, watching her with amusement and not a little fascination.

  As she turned to smile at him she was pleasantly struck by how relaxed she felt in his company, as if she had known him for ten years rather than ten minutes. ‘I’m not sure I’m thinking anything,’ she said softly.

  He nodded. ‘Mm, as Thomas said, no wits.’ And he started to walk on up the hill, his hands buried in the pockets of his corduroy trousers and the silk back of his waistcoat billowing in the breeze.

  Claudine smiled. Effortless charm, dark good looks and ready humour – Lucien really was very attractive! It might be quite hard to resist him, if it wasn’t for the fact that … She stopped smiling, and got out of the car.

  ‘So,’ he said, falling into step with her as she joined him, ‘how are you finding it all?’

  ‘If by that you mean Lorvoire, would it be too sentimental to say I’m in grave danger of losing my heart?’

  ‘But you haven’t seen it yet. At least, not the village.’

  ‘I’ve seen it from the top of the hill over there.’ She pointed to where she and François had stood a week ago.

  ‘One of the best views,’ he admitted. ‘Who told you about it?’

  She smiled as she remembered how she had come to be there. ‘As a matter of fact, I found it for myself. I was in a mind to escape your brother at the time.’

  He grinned. ‘And did you succeed?’

  Claudine thought about that for a moment, then said, ‘No, but I’d be lying if I said he came after me with passion beating in his heart.’

  Lucien gave a shout of laughter. ‘So how did you find my brother?’ he said.

  ‘Rather sore that he lost the toss of the coin,’ she answered, gazing nonchalantly about her.

  Lucien came to an abrupt halt. ‘He told you about that?’

  ‘Not in so many words,’ she answered, turning back to look at him. ‘But that is what happened, isn’t it? Two confirmed bachelors tossed a coin to decide which of them must make the ultimate sacrifice?’

  As they stared at one another, the corner of Lucien’s mouth curved in a sheepish grin. ‘I can see there’s no point in lying,’ he said.

  ‘None whatsoever,’ she agreed happily.

  They started to walk on, keeping in single file as Thomas rolled past in his tractor. ‘Has François asked you to marry him yet?’ Lucien asked bluntly, as he caught her up.

  ‘No. Did you think he would on our first meeting?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I did. Whenever François has something unpleasant to do, he usually gets it over with as quickly as possible. And I could have phrased that a little more tactfully, couldn’t I?’

  Claudine laughed. ‘Never mind. Besides, it suggests he might have found the prospect a little less unpleasant than you imagined!’

  Knowing precisely what François’ first impression of her had been, Lucien passed no comment. Instead he asked, ‘What about you? Have you decided what your answer will be when he does get around to asking?’

  ‘Oh yes. I will marry him. And he’ll ask me the very next time he is at Lorvoire.’

  ‘He will?’ Lucien said, highly entertained by this answer. ‘And when will that be?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the faintest idea. François has not seen fit to communicate with me since he left for Paris last Monday.’

  ‘Very remiss of him. Also very like him. But maybe it will put your mind at rest to know that he is returning to Lorvoire this evening.’

  Claudine’s eyes closed as her
stomach lurched sickeningly. ‘This evening?’ she repeated, in a small voice. It was one thing to have brave resolutions when he was so far away, it was quite another when she was faced with carrying them out so soon. ‘Your mother didn’t mention it,’ she said, trying to sound indifferent.

  ‘That’s because she didn’t know. He telephoned early this afternoon, while she and Monique were over at Montvisse with you. I’d like to be able to tell you that he is rushing back to be at your side, but I believe his unscheduled return has a little more to do with my own presence at the château.’

  ‘You are so gallant, Lucien,’ she said breezily.

  ‘The truth, Claudine,’ he said seriously, ‘always the truth between us. What do you say?’

  ‘I’d like that very much,’ she answered with surprise, but equal sincerity; and they smiled.

  When they reached the top of the hill they stopped, and Lucien draped an arm loosely about her shoulders as he pointed out the tiny houses below, the mairie and the café. She was glad of not having to speak. As they stood there, two lone figures at the top of the hill, ruffled gently by the breeze and embraced by the sun’s warmth, and she listened to Lucien telling her how he and François used to hide from their nanny in the forest, then row along the Vienne to the village where Sebastien St Jacques would scoop them up onto his horse and take them back to the château, she was aware of a deep feeling building inside her that was beyond words.

  ‘Over there.’ Lucien’s voice seemed suddenly louder, and for a moment she was startled, and a little sad, to realize that it wasn’t François standing there with her – François, who hadn’t seen fit to share anything of his past with her. Then in her mind’s eye she caught a glimpse of that cold, brutal face, and realized she was in danger of confusing the François of her imagination with the François of grim reality – and her hands tightened in resentment. Quickly she pulled herself together and looked to where Lucien was pointing, at a large house partly hidden by the church. ‘That’s where Armand St Jacques lives,’ he told her, ‘old Sebastien’s son. Armand is probably the closest friend François and I have.’