by Susan Lewis
Claudine’s heart had given a sickening lurch on hearing that François would return so soon, but she was still smiling as she said, ‘I’ve yet to learn what you all like to eat, so I’m not sure I’m the one to talk to Arlette.’
‘Nonsense,’ Louis answered kindly. ‘Arlette knows anyway. And you’ll be mistress of Lorvoire one day, so …’
‘Oh Papa!’ Monique exclaimed. ‘Claudine has only just returned from her honeymoon, stop rushing her. I will talk to Arlette, and you must take your medication before Doctor Lebrun arrives …’
Monique didn’t stay long after her father had gone, and to her relief Claudine was left alone for the remainder of the morning. Feigning happiness with her own marriage was one thing, and God knew how difficult that was, but having to pretend to be happy for Monique and Freddy was, just for the moment, beyond her. She was certain, knowing Freddy as she did, that there had been some terrible misunderstanding, but until she spoke to him there was nothing to be done.
Her Lagonda had been brought to Lorvoire while she was in Biarritz, so that afternoon she drove herself over to Montvisse through the pouring rain, the canvas roof firmly in place and the windscreen-wipers creaking frenziedly back and forth. She had done a great deal of thinking while she was in Biarritz, and some of it had been about Tante Céline and her father.
When she had returned to Montvisse on that terrible morning of her flight from Poiters, she had already been in a state of shock, and finding her father and Tante Céline in bed together had been almost more than she could take. Later that day, when she was a little calmer, the three of them had talked; Beavis and Tante Céline left her in no doubt that their relationship had begun long after Antoinette’s death, and Claudine had assured them that she understood and forgave them – not that there was really anything to forgive. And she had forgiven her father; but somehow it hadn’t seemed so easy to forgive Tante Céline, and the last thing that happened before François dragged her off to Biarritz was that she spent a hysterical few minutes calling Tante Céline every bad name she could think of. Her sense of shame at this had contributed to her unhappiness in Biarritz, and what she wanted very much now was to see her aunt and set things right … But Tante Céline, Claudine was informed when she arrived at Montvisse, had gone to the beauty salon at Tours and was not expected back until about four o’clock.
Claudine’s heart sank. If Tante Céline had gone all the way to Tours on a day when she knew her niece was coming, it surely meant that she was avoiding her – or punishing her. But she cheered up a little when she saw Freddy poke his head out of the library, and with a genuinely warm smile she ran into his arms.
‘Oh no, old thing, Céline isn’t avoiding you,’ Freddy said, when she told him what was on her mind. ‘She already had the appointment – she wasn’t expecting you back until the end of the week, remember – and one told her to go ahead because one was longing to have you to oneself for a while.’
‘Was one indeed?’ Claudine said, with a sidelong glance that set his cheeks on fire.
Grinning, she pulled off her gloves, unpinned her hat, then threw them onto the bureau as she flopped into a chair. ‘Mon Dieu, it’s cold in here,’ she shivered, rubbing her hands as she leaned towards the newly lit fire. ‘It’s like winter already.’
‘How does it feel to be back?’ he said. ‘Did you like Biarritz?’
‘Biarritz was fine,’ she answered. ‘And how have you found Touraine?’
‘Oh, fine.’
The flatness of his voice made her look up, and when she saw the gloomy expression on his face she found it difficult not to smile. ‘It’s all right, Freddy,’ she said, ‘Monique’s already told me. So come on, out with it, what have you been up to, you rogue? Or shall I call you a Casanova?’ she added as she reached for his hand.
‘Please, don’t!’ he said in a pained voice. ‘Don’t! I have no idea how this has happened, but Clo, one is practically engaged!’
‘So I hear,’ she chuckled. ‘And I take it from your expression that you don’t particularly want to be?’
Miserably he shook his head.
‘Then you’d better start at the beginning. And don’t look so worried, I’m sure we’ll find a solution.’
But by the time he had finished his tale of woe, she wasn’t quite so sure. Of course, if Freddy were a little more like François he wouldn’t have a problem, but being the honourable gentleman he was, he was bound to feel obliged to marry a girl if he so much as kissed her, never mind what he had actually done with Monique. And Monique, of course, had realized that. But instead of being angry with Monique, Claudine was sorry for her. That she should feel so desperate that she had to trick a young boy into marrying her was heart-rending.
‘What can one do, Clo?’ Freddy said, looking at her with his limpid, puppy-like eyes. ‘Do you suppose one will have to go through with it?’
Claudine shook her head. ‘I don’t know, darling. If I thought it would help I would talk to Monique myself, but …’
‘Could you!’ he cried, squeezing her hands. ‘She’ll listen to you, I know. She’s so terribly, terribly fond of you …’
‘Is that what she told you?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes. Elle a de la presence, she said, whatever that means. She thinks you’re topping, Clo, and you’ll be so much better than one could ever be at letting her down gently.’ He stopped, then looking at her sideways, he said, ‘Do you think one should just pop back to England, though, before you do it? You know, sort of get out of the way?’
‘No, I most certainly do not!’ Claudine laughed. ‘And neither am I going to let her down gently. Don’t look at me like that! I’m not saying you have to many her, but what I am saying is that you have to take responsibility for what you have done. I know she seduced you,’ she smiled as Freddy’s cheeks started to burn, ‘but you have been writing her some rather passionate poetry she tells me …’
‘But Clo, one didn’t mean her to …’
‘Oh yes one did, Freddy! What you didn’t mean her to do was assume you were going to marry her as a result. Now, you are absolutely certain that you didn’t actually propose when you were … incapable, shall we say?’
‘Oh, absolutely! I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and I just don’t see how one could have. I mean, it was the furthest thing from one’s mind …’
‘Hm.’ Claudine was silent for a moment. ‘Well, what matters now is that we get you out of this mess and back to Oxford before it’s too late. The question is, how?’
He gazed up at her pleadingly, and she sat forward to plant a kiss on the end of his nose.
‘I know you’ll think of something, Clo. I just know you will.’
The telephone started ringing then, and Claudine got up to answer it. ‘Well, whatever it is,’ she said, ‘you have a lesson to learn here, Freddy Prendergast, so you will be the one to let her down gently, not I. Savigny 222,’ she said into the receiver. She turned to Freddy, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. ‘Yes, Monique,’ she continued into the telephone, ‘it is Claudine here. No, I have no idea where Jean or Pierre are, so I answered myself. No, Céline isn’t here either, she’s in Tours. Yes, yes he is.’ She grinned as Freddy started frantically shaking his head. ‘I’ll put him on.’
Glaring at her, Freddy took the receiver, and Claudine, laughing, went into the drawing-room to save his embarrassment.
Five minutes later, Freddy appeared, his fresh, young face as pink as his tie and his mane of sandy hair in wild disorder. ‘Monique asked one to remind you to invite Céline and one to dinner tonight,’ he said morosely.
‘Of course,’ Claudine said. ‘Consider yourself invited.’ She waited. ‘Well,’ she pressed, ‘what else did she say?’
‘Oh, Clo!’ he wailed, clasping his head in his hands. ‘She wants to announce our engagement. Tonight!’
‘Oh, Freddy,’ Claudine sighed, trying not to laugh.
He threw himself down on the sofa. ‘I’m doomed,’ he
groaned tragically. ‘Doomed!’
‘Not necessarily. I’ll talk her into postponing it.’
‘I don’t want a postponement, I want a cancellation!’ he cried.
‘We don’t always get what we want in this life, Freddy,’ she said, a little more harshly then she’d intended. He gave her a curious look, and she went on quickly, ‘A postponement I can virtually guarantee. Lucien is coming home in a few days time, just for the night en route to join his regiment. For that night, assuming François isn’t called away, the whole family will be together, and I’ll advise Monique to make the announcement then. How does that sound?’
‘Better,’ he nodded dismally. ‘Better, but not perfect.’
‘Freddy, you aren’t still moping around the place, are you?’ Céline was standing at the door, and the instant Claudine saw her, tears stung painfully at her eyes. Hastily she blinked them away – how ridiculous she was to be so moved by the sight of people she loved!
Céline looked back at her niece, then with a smile she lifted her arms and held them out to her. ‘Ma chérie,’ she murmured, as Claudine went to her.
‘Tante Céline. Oh, Tante Céline, I’m so sorry. I’m so …’ She stopped as Céline put a finger over her lips.
‘There is nothing to be sorry for, chérie,’ she said. ‘We will talk later, but for now I must have some tea.’
Of course they couldn’t talk in front of Freddy, but already her aunt had made it clear that she had forgiven the dreadful outburst, and Claudine felt a weight had been lifted from her heart.
Tea was brought, and Claudine heard about what had been happening at Montvisse while she was away, and told them all she wanted them to know about Biarritz. She knew she wasn’t deceiving her aunt, even for a minute, but it was vital to her for her own sake to keep up appearances.
It was a little after five when the telephone rang again, and Pierre came to tell Freddy the call was for him. Choking back her laughter at Freddy’s anguished face, Claudine waited for him to leave the room before turning to her aunt.
Céline held up her hands. ‘I don’t want to know,’ she said. ‘He’s got himself into some kind of trouble with Monique de Lorvoire, and as far as I’m concerned he must get himself out of it.’
‘My sentiments exactly,’ Claudine said. ‘But I can’t abandon him altogether – after all, he is only nineteen.’ She paused and looked Céline straight in the eye. ‘Any more than you can bring yourself to abandon me, and I’m twenty-two,’ she added meaningfully. ‘That is, I take it, why you are staying on at Montvisse?’
Smiling, Céline brushed her fingers over Claudine’s face, then helped herself to more tea. ‘Am I allowed to ask why you are back from Biarritz so soon?’ she said, dropping two lumps of sugar into her cup.
‘The weather was atrocious, so François thought it better that we return to Lorvoire,’ Claudine answered lightly.
Céline nodded. ‘Except that François, so I hear, is in Paris.’ Her eyes narrowed as she regarded her niece. ‘How are things between you two now?’ she said bluntly.
‘As good as they’ll ever be.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that I am over the shock of losing my virginity.’
Céline seemed cross. ‘Please don’t treat me like an idiot, chérie. It would have taken more than that for you to run away on your wedding night, but if you don’t want to tell me, then don’t.’
Claudine smiled. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said gently, ‘but there’s no point in going into why I left him that night, it’s history now, and it simply isn’t relevant any longer. Things have changed a great deal since. François and I now have a marriage that will suit us both.’
Céline sighed. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. ‘Why do I get the feeling that you are starting a life sentence?’ she said.
‘All marriages are life sentences,’ Claudine laughed, ‘if you want to put it that way. And mine is not so bad. I have Solange and Louis – and Monique and I will be friends eventually. And now that you are staying on in Touraine for a while, I am surrounded by people I love.’
‘But …’
‘And,’ Claudine interrupted, ‘if François and I continue the way we are, it shouldn’t be too long before there’s a baby at Lorvoire. So then everyone will be happy, including my husband.’
‘So you are making love?’ Céline said.
‘That isn’t what François calls it, but yes, I suppose we are.’ She looked away. She didn’t want to have to go into a detailed account of the nightly struggle between herself and François, particularly since she had now learned that life was a lot easier if she just did as he told her. Though he hadn’t liked it much when she started to sing the Marseillaise at the top of her voice … She wouldn’t do it again …
She looked up as the door burst open and Freddy all but fell into the room. ‘Clo!’ he cried. ‘Clo! You know what we were talking about earlier? Well, I’ve just had the most fortunate phone call, and I think it will solve all my problems!’
By the time Claudine had heard Freddy’s plan for extricating himself from Monique, and had said goodbye to Tante Céline, it was early evening. She still wanted to visit Liliane St Jacques, and there was just time, she thought, before she had to get back to the château to change for dinner.
The sky was almost dark as she drove through the village. She could see Armand in the café as she drove past, and for a moment she was tempted to join him, it looked so cosy inside. But it was Liliane, not Armand she had come to see, and there was no cosiness on earth to compare with Liliane St Jacques’ kitchen, where garlic and herbs and pots and pans hung all over the unevenly plastered walls, and the ovens always gave out smells so appetizing that Claudine could feel her mouth watering even as she stepped out of the car and made a dash through the rain for the door.
By the time she reached it, it was already open, and Liliane’s toothless smile was waiting to greet her. Her black headscarf was tied neatly under her chin, and her shapeless grey dress was covered by a faded, carrot-stained apron. Claudine had met her only a few times before the wedding, but like Solange and Monique she had come to regard her as almost one of the family.
Claudine stooped to embrace her, and Liliane pulled her into the warmth of the kitchen, clucking her delight that she had come to visit so soon. She sat her down at the table, then padded across the flagstones to ladle a cup of hot broth from the pot over the fire. While Claudine drank she continued to clean the vegetables she had set out on the table, all the time recounting in a low, scratchy voice the latest village doings. She knows all there is to know, Claudine thought fondly, but there isn’t a malicious bone in her body; she sees good in everyone, even where there’s none to see.
After a while Liliane got up and poured them each a tot of Lorvoire wine. Then she turned on the wireless so that Claudine could listen to the last part of the news broadcast, while she added her vegetables to a lamb stew she was cooking for Armand’s supper.
The only light in the kitchen came from the fire in the huge stone hearth and the air was warm and steamy. Claudine allowed her eyes to close, only half-listening to the newscaster’s dull monotone as he read out the details of a naval agreement Britain had signed with Germany, and the latest information from the Bourse. Her concentration waned altogether then, as she listened to the gentle drum of the rain outside and tried not to think of François. She had almost fallen asleep when suddenly the door opened with a quick burst of cold wind, and Armand came in.
‘Bonsoir, Armand,’ she smiled up at him.
‘Bonsoir, madame.’
Claudine watched as he stamped the mud from his boots and unbuttoned his jacket. She had met him only once, on the day of her wedding, and she remembered now how much he had surprised her. From what Lucien had told her about the death of his wife and child, she had expected there to be an air of tragedy about him – but, on the contrary, she had seen humour in his kind, handsome face, and his large blue eyes had shone with laughter a
s he danced the older women round the ballroom.
‘I see you are sampling last year’s vintage,’ he said, smiling.
‘Is it a particularly good one?’ she asked, feeling herself responding to his warmth.
He pulled a thoughtful face. ‘Not particularly,’ he said. ‘But it will sell.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she laughed. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m rather glad you’re here. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.’
‘Oh?’ he said, taking off his jacket and hooking it over the back of a chair. He sat down at the head of the table and rested his blond head on his hand, while his mother set a glass before him and started to pour the wine.
‘Well, it’s more of a suggestion really,’ Claudine said. ‘François tells me that the grapes are to be harvested soon, and that there always used to be a celebration at the château when they were in. I was wondering if it would be a good idea to revive the tradition. What do you think?’
‘Madame de Lorvoire,’ Armand said, with irony in his voice, ‘you’re going to make yourself even more popular than you already are if you continue to come up with suggestions like that.’
‘So you’ll help?’
‘Of course, madame.’
‘Marvellous. And please stop addressing me as ‘madame’ when I know full well that you even call the Comte and Comtesse Louis and Solange. Perhaps you can spread the word. About the festival, I mean. See if anyone wants to join us, do anything to help, donate things …’
‘A Frenchman, donate!’ he cried throwing up his hands. ‘Don’t you know they all have porcupines in their pockets?’
Claudine burst out laughing, and Liliane chuckled too. Armand drained his glass, refilled Claudine’s, then rolled back his sleeves and walked over to the enamel sink beneath the window.
‘What sort of thing do you have in mind for the celebration?’ Liliane asked Claudine.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ she answered. ‘That was why I wanted to talk to you and Armand …’
While Claudine and his mother ran through some ideas, Armand turned on the tap and started washing his hands. He had passed Claudine’s car on his way in, but it wasn’t until he looked at it again now, through the kitchen window – abandoned haphazardly as it was at the bottom of the bank – that he remembered how he had seen her in it the morning after her wedding.
