Chateau Despair

by Red Rose Publishig

  “Yes, I was thinking it seemed cooler,” Christine said, then, “Henry wants you to design a piece of jewellery for me – for Christmas.”

  “I’m glad he mentioned it early enough. I have several commissions I’m working on at the moment. What sort of thing do you want?”

  “I’m not sure. Something different, I think. Could I look through your book of early designs, Mummy? I might like either a ring or a brooch but with an Art Deco feel to it.”

  “Really? I haven’t done anything like that for ages. Yes, I should enjoy designing a special piece for you. I’ll get several folders out and leave them on the desk in the library. When you’ve had a look through we’ll talk a bit more about what you like.”

  She stopped speaking as Helene came into the hall. She was looking windswept and was clearly out of breath, as though she had been running hard. Christine thought she looked upset – even nervous.

  “Is something wrong, Helene?”

  “No – not really.” Helene’s eyes slid away from contact with Beth’s. “I walked into the village to post a letter and it turned cold so I ran back.”

  Christine was watching her face and she was almost sure that she was lying. Something had happened while Helene was out – something that had seriously disturbed her.

  “Well, I’m going to take the dogs for a walk. You won’t want to come if you’ve already been to the village, Helene?”

  Helene shook her head, then hesitated before speaking. She lifted her chin, a hint of pride in her lovely face.

  “You might as well both know that I’ve made up my mind to accept Jack’s offer – that’s if he still wants me after we’ve talked things over.”

  “I’m so pleased,” Beth said warmly. “You will really be a part of our family then.”

  “That’s what I want. I was mixed up when I came here – hurting. I wasn’t sure what to do or say, that’s why I got involved with Simon. He was so positive about his feelings…I’m sorry I did that to you, Christine. And I should like to belong to this family. You’ve no idea how much that means to me.”

  “I’m glad you’ve decided,” Christine said. “And don’t worry about Jack still wanting you. He’s madly in love with you. I don’t think anything you’ve done could change that.”

  Helene shot her a grateful smile and ran up the stairs.

  “That was generous,” Beth said. “I’m proud of you, Christine.”

  “I’m not jealous anymore. I had realized that it would never have worked between us even before…he died.”

  “Perhaps not…”

  It was a long time since Christine had been for a really good walk, and the exercise was doing her good, clearing her mind of the confusion that had possessed it since the evening of her dance. Her mother was right; she hadn’t been to blame for the accident, any more than she had for Miss Timpson’s suicide. She smiled to herself, whistling to the dogs as they went scampering after rabbits.

  “You’re back then,” a voice said startling her as she paused to look at a patch of wild orchids. “I was thinking of coming up to the house, but then I happened to see you with the dogs…”

  “Paul!” Christine turned as she heard his voice, and suddenly discovered that her heart was racing wildly. He was smiling at her, smiling in a way that made her realise how attractive he was and how much she liked him. “Do you often walk in the woods?”

  “Sometimes,” he said. “When I want to think about things…”

  “Yes, it’s so good for clearing the mind, isn’t it? Paul, the other day…when I was crying and you sat with me…”

  “And you wished me to hell?” He gazed down at her and she realized that he was standing very close. “I shouldn’t have intruded, Christine. I know Simon was special to you.”

  “I thought I was in love with him, but I wasn’t. He had changed or maybe I'd never really known him or something…It made me feel worse, as if my changing my mind had somehow brought about the accident, which was ridiculous of course.”

  “But very like you.” Paul’s smile was making her feel weak at the knees. What was happening to her? “Perhaps that’s why I like you so much, Christine. I think you are the most caring person I know.”

  “Am I?” She felt odd as she gazed up at him. “Do you really like me, Paul?”

  “Yes. You must know that.” He gave a sigh of exasperation. “Oh, hell! I hadn’t meant to say anything for ages, because I can’t marry you, Christine. My cottage took every penny I had saved and it’s going to be years before I can support a wife – especially one like you.”

  “One like me?” Christine could hardly believe what he was saying. Surely she had heard it all wrong. He couldn’t be telling her he loved her, could he?

  “I’m not getting at you or your family,” Paul made a wry face. “But you’ve been used to having the best of things and I wouldn’t ask you to marry me until I could give you at least some of them.”

  “Give me…ask me to marry you?” Christine’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and she stared at him helplessly. “Are you saying…”

  “That I love you?” Paul moved even closer. “Yes, of course. I think I fell in love with you the day I made you fall off your bicycle, but I knew it was impossible. Your family is wealthy and mine came from the slums of London. I won a place at a special school and went on to college, because I was determined to make something of myself, to get on. I’m going to do that, Christine. One day I’ll be able to afford to give my wife a nice home but…”

  “Oh, Paul,” she whispered, the words coming out of their own volition. “I think I love you…”

  The next moment she was in his arms, being kissed hungrily, crushed against him in an embrace that seemed to squeeze the life from her. She had never felt anything like this in her life and when he let her go she stared at him, feeling stunned by the force of her feelings. She hadn’t felt anything like this for Simon or for Freddie…

  Freddie! The memory of the night she had spent with Freddie at that hotel and her promise to marry him came rushing back, making her feel faint as she realized what she had done – what she had thrown away.

  What on earth had made her put that shameless proposition to Freddie? He would never have suggested such a thing to her! It was her fault, her fault entirely. She was engaged to him and there was no way out. She couldn’t break her word. Besides, after that night…how could she expect Paul to understand or condone her behaviour?

  “What is the matter?” Paul was staring at her. He had sensed her change of mood, sensed that something was wrong. “I thought you wanted me to kiss you. You said you loved me…”

  “I do,” Christine said in a strangled voice. “But you don’t understand – it’s too late.”

  “Too late – why?”

  “I’ve promised to marry someone. Freddie…” she faltered as she saw the disbelief and shock in his eyes. “I didn’t know how you felt…how I felt. It was because of Simon, and me feeling so low, and Freddie was there. He was kind and…” She broke off on a sob. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “How do you expect me to look at you?” he said harshly. “To marry a man like that…a rich old man…”

  “It wasn’t like that! You don’t understand…”

  “No, I don’t. And I never shall.”

  Christine gave a sob of despair, turned and fled away from him, the dogs following behind, barking madly.

  Oh, she couldn’t bear it, she couldn’t! That look in his eyes! He despised her now and if he knew that she and Freddie had been lovers he would hate her.

  Why hadn’t she realized her feelings before? Why hadn’t she known that Paul was becoming special to her? She had simply enjoyed his company, never thinking further than that and now it was too late. She was in love with Paul, really in love this time, and she had thrown it all away for a stupid impulse.

  Christine returned to the house nearly two hours later. It was long past teatime,
but her craving for sweet foods had vanished. She was much calmer now, her emotions under control. There was simply nothing she could do but keep her promise to marry Sir Freddie. Jilting him was out of the question. He had been so kind to her, so generous, and he loved her. This mess was all her fault and she couldn’t hurt other people just because she had changed her mind.

  Perhaps she was one of those shallow people who fell in and out of love all the time? She couldn’t be a nice person or she wouldn’t have behaved as she had, but to jilt Freddie now would just make things even worse. No, she had to stick to her promise, to go through with it no matter how she felt inside.

  Somehow she had to put Paul out of her mind, to go on with her life as she had intended.

  She went into the study and saw that her mother had put out three folders of designs. Most of them were designs that Beth had done when she was just starting out, and the date was neatly written on the bottom of each plate.

  Christine was fascinated. She began to lay out some of the intricate drawings, which showed each piece from various angles and gave details of the materials needed and notes on the cutting technique needed for various effects. She was a little awed by this evidence of her mother’s talent and extensive knowledge about the jewellery trade. Even though she had known Beth Kavanagh had been famous, she hadn’t appreciated how good this early work really was

  “What are you doing?” Helene’s voice from the doorway made her look up. “Beth said you might be here. What are all these designs?”

  Christine glanced up, feeling pleased at the interruption. It would be good to have Helene’s company, help her to think about what she was doing rather than the look in Paul’s eyes. But she knew that she would be haunted by that look for a long, long time.

  She mustn’t think about Paul. Concentrate on the designs, on what Helene was saying! She blinked hard as she felt the sting of tears, forcing herself to smile

  “They belong to Mummy. She did them years ago. Her work was very desirable in the twenties and she had lots of exhibitions all over the world. She won awards for design and originality. Henry wants her to design something for me, and I asked to look through these before I decide. I want something that you couldn’t find in the shops these days, something distinctive and original.”

  “May I have a look? Jack was talking about buying me a ring, but he’s sure to go for something elaborate and far too expensive. I should prefer an individual piece that wasn’t too loaded with diamonds.”

  “Jack was all right when you telephoned him then?”

  “Yes – he told me he didn’t want to know anything about my past – that it didn’t matter to him. He wants to marry me anyway…”

  “I knew he would.” Christine pointed to a chair. “Bring that here so that you can go through these. We need to keep them in sequence so that Mummy can find them easily. They are all dated on the bottom – see? This folder is full of designs for rings. I was thinking I might like a ring, but I’ve changed my mind. I rather like these brooches that can also be worn as pendants.”

  “Oh, yes,” Helene agreed. “They are very stylish, and I can see several lovely ones. Have you made up your mind which one you prefer?”

  “No. I’ve seen at least six I like, but I can’t pick one out. I think I shall probably leave the final design to Mummy.”

  She continued to sort through the folders, selecting the drawings she liked most and making sure that those she returned were in order. It was a few minutes before she realized that Helene had gone quiet. She glanced at her and saw that her face was white. She was staring fixedly at one of the designs and looked as if she might faint.

  “What is it, Helene? Is something wrong?”

  “It – it’s this ring design,” Helene said, her voice no more than a hoarse whisper. “I’ve seen it before. Do you know if your mother kept a record of who bought the various pieces?”

  “I’m not sure. She would have a record of important pieces, designs she had done for someone in particular.” Christine held out her hand for the plate. “Let me see…” She studied the design for a moment and then smiled. “I think I know who this belonged to but we’ll ask…” Her words died away as the study door opened and Beth came in. She held the design sheet out to her. “Am I right, Mummy – is this the ring you designed for Henry?”

  Beth took the drawing and glanced at it. “Yes. It was the very first thing I ever had made up. I was upset when he lost it.”

  “Your father lost the ring?” Helene said, sounding slightly breathless. “When was that?”

  “Oh – it must have been just after the end of World War One. He went over to France for a few months to do some sort of liaison work. When he came back he wasn’t wearing it. I asked where it was and he said he had lost it. I wanted to have another made up in the same design but he asked me not to. I designed something different – the ring he wears today.” She looked from Christine to Helene. “Why? It’s a man’s ring. It wouldn’t be suitable for either of you.”

  “Helene thought she had seen it somewhere.”

  Helene’s hand trembled as she replaced the design in its folder.

  “Someone I knew had something similar.”

  “Oh? I should like to know where they got it. That was an exclusive design.”

  “It was a girl I knew. She said it was given to her. She - she thought it might have belonged to…” Helene got to her feet suddenly. “Excuse me. I have a headache. These designs are all beautiful, Beth – but perhaps I should let Jack choose what he wants…”

  Christine looked at her mother as the other girl went out.

  “Something upset her. She was perfectly happy until she saw that ring.”

  “Obviously it meant something to her. I wonder what?”

  “She wanted to know who it had been designed for, that seemed important to her – you don’t suppose the ring she saw was Henry’s?” Christine frowned. “Should I go after her? She might tell me what is worrying her. We’re getting on better than we did…”

  “Leave her,” Beth cautioned. “If she wants to talk about what is on her mind she will do it when she’s ready. I suppose she might have seen Henry’s ring – if he lost it…”

  “Could Helene’s distress have anything to do with what happened out there? She spoke to me once of seeing a woman killed in the most horrible way. Do you think that might have been the woman who owned the ring?”

  “Yes, it might be something like that,” Beth agreed. “Seeing it suddenly must have brought the memory back. And yet that doesn’t explain…” She shook her head. “It is foolish to speculate. I am sure that Helene has many secrets. She may choose to share them with us one day, but we must wait until she is ready.”

  “Yes. I shan’t ask her. I don’t want to upset her even more.”

  Beth glanced at the range of pendants that Christine had picked out. “These are some of my favourites too. Did you like anything in particular?”

  “Those geometric styles are rather nice, but then so are all the others. I couldn’t make up my mind, they are all so beautiful.”

  “Why don’t you let me come up with something just for you, Christine? I can see the kind of thing you like and it would be a lovely surprise.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought. Thank you, Mummy.”

  She was thoughtful as she went up the stairs. Her mother hadn’t seen Helene’s face when she first saw the design, but Christine had – and she knew it had been a severe shock to her. There was some mystery here; she sensed it and felt an icy chill begin at the base of her neck.

  Just who had the ring belonged to and why had it upset Helene so much to see it like that?

  Alone in her room, Christine sat down at the dressing table to brush her hair. For a time she had managed to forget, but now it was all flooding back again, the memory of Paul’s face as she had told him that she was engaged to Freddie. The anger and disgust she had seen in his eyes had stabbed her to the heart, but what else could she have done?


  What was she going to do now – in the future? She had believed she could be happy with Freddie, but that was before Paul kissed her, before he made her realise what it was really like to be in love. She knew now that it was just a childish crush she had felt for Simon, and as for Freddie… she liked him a lot, but she had begun to understand just how much she would be missing if she married him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Clothilde

  “This was a good idea, Kurt.” Clothilde smiled at him. They were sitting on a blanket in the shade of a tree in a sunlit glade, the remains of their picnic scattered around them. “And the food was delicious. It was good of you to go to so much trouble.”

  She looked beautiful as she sat with her back against the tree, her hair blown softly about her face by the breeze. He liked it when she let her hair hang loose instead of the neatly rolled style she adopted for professional use. She was wearing a gored skirt and a plain linen blouse, her shoes flat to complement the short white ankle socks many French girls wore these days.

  Kurt thought she looked very different to the sophisticated woman who worked in Madame Robards’ showrooms, and he suspected that the face she showed to the world might not be the real woman.

  “You look so young,” he said. “How old are you, Clothilde?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. I think I was born in January 1921, but I cannot be certain.”

  “You must have something – a birth certificate?”

  “My mother died. I was never registered. I acquired papers when I came to Paris.”

  “There is no official record of your birth?”

  “I do not know exactly. Perhaps somewhere – does it matter?”

  “Not to me. You might need it one day, to prove your identity.”

  Clothilde shrugged. “Perhaps if I married, but I doubt I shall. I do not know if I should like to be married…” She laughed as she saw his expression. “You would not truly want to marry me, Kurt. It is much better that we stay as we are.”