Amanda and Mr. Perrier ran as fast as they could toward the castle. She raised her eyes to see it better, holding tight on her umbrella, which was pretty much useless. She felt her heart stop for a second. Amanda had expected something big, but not that big.
The castle was made of dark grey stone, about 20 meters high and maybe 30 meters wide. Two high towers at the extremities ended in pointy roofs, and the large windows on the front looked like giant black eyes. Amanda shivered. The place was grim. It wasn't the feeling she had hoped for when seeing the castle for the first time.
She and Mr. Perrier stepped onto the front porch, and the notary pulled a thick metal ring holding dozens of keys out of his pocket. He inserted one after another in the lock of the big front door and tried to open it. After several attempts, he finally found the right key and invited Amanda to step inside.
The big hall with a high ceiling was dark and cold, but at least they were protected from the rain. Amanda looked around, intimidated by the ample space. Mr. Perrier cleaned his glasses with a wet handkerchief.
"I didn't lie to you, Ms. McBride, this place is massive," said Mr. Perrier.
"Yes, it is," whispered Amanda.
"Follow me, we're going to start the tour in here."
They entered a large room on their right. The worn-out tapestry on the walls showed unraveled little threads and holes here and there. The faded red that once was vibrant looked dirty and dull. It was covered with a pattern of golden leopards. Amanda got closer and ran a hand along the tapestry.
"Leopards are the emblem of our region," explained Mr. Perrier, "they represent the British Kings of England who became the Dukes of Normandy."
Amanda turned around. Two antique chairs faced a large window, still bearing the imprints of their past occupants, and a lovely but deteriorating 19th century upholstered green sofa that had probably not seen any visitors for a long while was left in a corner.
"Is the castle all furnished with antiques?" asked Amanda.
"There are a few empty rooms, but most of them are furnished. I've been told that this room was used as a tea room when Mrs. D'Orvilly received guests in the afternoon. Very few though, she seldom had visitors. Please, come this way."
The notary walked back to the hall and went up a broad staircase made of stone. "I'm afraid that we won't be able to visit all the rooms today. It's getting too dark, and there's no power. But I can leave you the keys so that you can come back tomorrow and get a better look on your own. There are twenty-four rooms in total on three levels. It seems like a low number for a castle, but bear in mind that these rooms are quite large. That doesn't include the kitchen and the cellar though."
The thunder rumbled loudly, resonating on the castle’s walls as if it were going to break it into pieces. Amanda and the notary hurried up to the first floor.
An old red carpet ran the length of a long corridor with five doors on each side. Mr. Perrier opened one of them. The door squeaked.
"This was Mrs. D'Orvilly's bedroom."
Amanda walked into the spacious room. The surface area was probably bigger than her entire house in Victoria. How could an elderly woman live on her own in such a big place? Mrs. D’Orvilly had grown up in the castle and had lived here since her childhood. But what about Amanda? Could she live on her own in the castle?
“As you can see, these are not regular sized rooms,” said Mr. Perrier. “After all, this is why we call it a château.” The notary chuckled.
Amanda walked across the parquet that creaked under her feet. A large canopy bed was placed in the middle of the room. Amanda noticed that the bedframe and the poles were covered with scratches.
"Why is the bed covered with scratches?" she asked.
"Mrs. D'Orvilly had many cats. It was probably too difficult to discipline them, so she let them do whatever they wanted."
It was a shame to see such damaged furniture. But Amanda was amused. Living with crazy cats was something she had in common with Toinette d’Orvilly.
"Where are these cats now?" she asked.
"Most were taken to an animal shelter, and I've been told that one escaped."
Amanda slid a finger along the top of a dusty chest. The windows and the heavy curtains were dirty.
"I apologize for the state of the rooms. Nobody has taken care of this property for a while, and it's been closed for almost a year now," said Mr. Perrier. "But all the linens were removed and cleaned just after Mrs. D'Orvilly passed away. They are stored in a closet in the laundry room, downstairs."
Amanda followed the notary to an en suite bathroom. A beautiful claw foot bathtub with golden carved legs sat in the centre of the room. Most of the light green tiles on the floor were cracked, and the old flower wallpaper was peeling off. A stained mirror leaned behind two sinks, and a vanity with a little stool was in a corner. Several flasks of perfume were displayed on the vanity, most of them empty. Amanda imagined Toinette d'Orvilly sitting on the stool, doing her hair in front of the mirror, spraying a cloud of perfume on her neck, getting ready for the day. What had she looked like?
"How could Mrs. D'Orvilly live like this?" asked Amanda, "it's an amazing place, but many things are too old, broken, or dilapidated. Did she have financial issues that kept her from maintaining the castle?"
"Hmm... We'll talk about that later if you don't mind," answered the notary.
Odd. Why couldn’t he answer this simple question now?
"Let me show you another room,” said Mr. Perrier, “a charming lounge. And then we'll go downstairs to see the kitchen."
Amanda followed the man who was holding a little map in his hands. He placed his finger on it, and chose a direction.
"This way..."
He stopped and turned the other way.
"No, pardon me, this way. I apologize, I always get lost in here."
They both walked to the other end of the corridor and went up a spiral staircase.
The corridor on the second floor had the same faded red carpet. Mr. Perrier opened a door on his right that led to a lounge with a wine colored wallpaper decorated with golden birds on green branches. A few armchairs and coffee tables were placed here and there, and there were books and ornaments on dusty shelves. The best feature of the room was a black grand piano placed by the window.
"Did Mrs. D'Orvilly play the piano?" asked Amanda.
"I believe that in her younger years, she did. But I doubt that she ever touched the keyboard of this piano after her husband passed away."
"Did you know her well?"
"I met her on a few occasions for some paperwork related to the estate and her will."
"Was she a nice person?"
"Oh yes, she was a lovely lady. Most people in the village liked her. But frankly, I really didn’t know her that well."
"What did she look like?"
Mr. Perrier frowned and looked at the ceiling.
"She was a short lady of petite frame with brown eyes, and white hair that she always kept up in a tight chignon..." The notary pinched his lips. "Hmm, sorry, I realize that I can’t think of much more to say about her."
"Are there any pictures or photo albums about the d’Orvilly’s kept somewhere?"
"You might find some if you explore the furniture drawers and the closets, or maybe the basement. I'm sorry, but I don't recall finding such things when we did the inventory. But we could’ve missed them."
A flash of lightening illuminated a wall for a second, revealing several paintings.
"Oh, who's this?"
Amanda pointed to a medium-sized painting. Mr. Perrier moved closer to the painting to better see it. He squinted, pursing his lips. The painting portrayed a man standing proudly with a dog on his left side, one hand on the dog's head, and the other carrying a black hat under his arm. His sideburns were perfectly trimmed. His long red jacket was open at the front, showing a white shirt underneath. His black boots and black pants looked like one garment. The man had a stern face.
"I have no clue who th
is man was, sorry Ms. McBride. I guess that there are many things that you have yet to discover about your ancestors... Well, it's getting darker. I'm sorry to shorten the visit, but we can have a quick look at the kitchen now before we go, if you want?"
"Sure," answered Amanda with a grin. If there was one room she wanted to see, it was the kitchen.
They went back to the ground floor and walked down yet another long and narrow corridor.
"Believe it or not," said Mr. Perrier, "despite the narrow width and the long length of this corridor, the kitchen staff used to make hundreds of trips a day to serve their masters. In the old days, I mean."
At the end of the corridor, three stairs led down into a large kitchen. A massive oak table occupied most of the space in the middle. A large ceramic stovea gorgeous antiquewas placed against the wall that faced them. There were several shelves in a corner on their left, filled with empty jars. Probably the pantry. The only source of light came from a small window above two large porcelain sinks.
Many pans, hung from solid hooks above the working area, attracted Amanda’s attention. She felt like a child in a candy store, imagining the fantastic French meals she could cook here.
"Oh my God! All of these are cast-iron pots and pans. And this stove must work with gas, right?"
"Correct," answered Mr. Perrier, "I doubt that you'll find a lot of electrical appliances here, except for the fridge. The electrical circuit is obsolete and dangerous, and this stove should be replaced. I strongly advise you to be cautious if you were to use it."
"Oh, Mr. Perrier, this stove is gorgeous, and there's nothing better than cooking on an old gas stove!"
"If you say so, Ms. McBride. I've never been so much of a cook, to be honest."
"Did Mrs. D'Orvilly like to cook?"
Mr. Perrier chuckled.
"No, Ms. McBride, people like Mrs. D'Orvilly never cooked, and they never did anything by themselves. Mrs. D'Orvilly had servants."
"Really? She had servants? Until she died?"
"Pretty much all her life. But not the last year before she passed away."
"So, what did she eat if she didn't cook and didn't have servants before she died?"
"She ate mostly out of cans. We found a lot of empty tin cans stacked in a bin behind the castle. The odd thing is Mrs. D'Orvilly didn't bother to get rid of them. Cleaning that up wasn't the nicest part of the job when our team did the inventory after her death, if you know what I mean..."
Amanda grimaced. For sure, she and her ancestor didn't share the same interest in canned food. What a shame, she thought, when one owns such an exceptional kitchen worthy of an expert chef.
Mr. Perrier was getting nervous and kept glancing at the corridor. "Sorry to rush you, Ms. McBride, but we should leave now. It will be pitch-black here very soon, and I'd hate to get us lost in this old castle."
The man walked toward the exit and Amanda followed him. As she was about to step out of the kitchen, a sudden flash of lightening lit the room for a fraction of a second, revealing the shape of a person standing in a corner. Amanda yelped.
"What's going on?" asked Mr. Perrier. "Are you all right, Ms. McBride?"
"I just saw someone in the kitchen!"
"You saw someone in the kitchen?"
"Yes, right now!"
"Well, that's odd... Nobody should be here, I'm the only one who has the keys. Are you sure?"
"Yes, over there, in that corner, someone was standing there!"
Mr. Perrier walked back to the kitchen reluctantly, and looked around quickly.
"I'm sorry, but I don't see anybody, Ms. McBride. Maybe what you saw was just the shadow of the pans forming a strange shape on the wall? Don't worry, there's nobody here but us."
Amanda followed the notary who walked hastily to the main door. But as they left the property, she couldn’t help but think that what she had seen in the kitchen was without doubt a human shape.
Amanda wasn’t the kind to make up stories or see things that weren’t there. So, what did she see? Or to be more precise, who did she see?
Chapter 16
“H
ere are the keys and the map, Ms. McBride. I put on stickers to identify them, but with all this rain the writing has faded away. I think the main door key is this one."
Amanda took the heavy ring with the old-style brass keys.
"In a day or two the weather should be better," continued Mr. Perrier. "I suggest that you go back to the castle and take your time to view all the rooms. It will take you a few hours. Please, drop by my office before Friday to inform me about your decision. I have to talk to you about an important matter we haven't had the chance to discuss yet."
"All right Mr. Perrier. Thank you for driving me back."
“You’re welcome!”
Amanda closed the door, and the car drove away. She ran to The Little Norman and pushed open the hotel door, relieved to be in a warm place, at last.
She stood in the corridor, soaked from head to toe, water dripping on the floor. Titi ran toward her, barking and showing his teeth.
"Titi, right here, now!"
A short man with a mustache and a crown of grey hair walked toward Amanda, smiling.
"You must be the little Canadian?"
'Little?' Again! Amanda knew she was short, but this odd manner of calling her 'little' was becoming insulting.
"Yes. You must be Mr. Beaudoin?"
"Himself in person! Please, call me Paul."
Paul shook Amanda's hand vigorously.
"You're quite soaked. You wanted to enjoy a shower in the heavy rains of Normandy?" The man showed all his teeth, proud of his joke. Amanda forced a polite smile.
"No, I had to go out to visit a place, and the weather became nasty very quickly. It's so dark outside, and it's only 4 p.m."
"Welcome to Normandy, my dear.”
Amanda removed her coat and left her rubber boots at the entrance.
“Wait,” said the man, “I'll go and get you a towel."
Paul walked away, but Titi didn't move. He kept staring at Amanda, growling. She bet that the dog would jump up on her immediately if she were to make a single move.
"Here you go," said Paul, handing her a fresh towel.
"Thank you so much."
"What place did you visit? If it's not indiscreet to ask. It must've been really important if you still went despite this bad weather."
"I was the castle," answered Amanda.
"The castle?" Paul looked quite intrigued.
"Yes. The castle. On the Domaine d'Orvilly."
The man frowned and remained silent for a few seconds, as if something were wrong.
"Ah. Yes. This castle," he answered, lowering his tone.
"Are there any other castles in Orvilly?" asked Amanda.
"No. That's the only one."
"So, why do you look surprised?"
The man was hesitant to answer.
"Nothing. Don't worry."
'Don't worry?' What was that supposed to mean? Should she be worried about something?
"If you're hungry,” said Paul, “my wife has prepared a good creamy leek soup, and a stew with potatoes. Do you want some? I could prepare you a table quickly in the dining room."
Why did he suddenly change the subject? Amanda was hungry and exhausted. Dining on her own in the dining room wasn’t very appealing and she was looking forward to seeing d’Artagnan and Bronx.
"I'd love to try your wife's soup and stew, but I'd rather eat in my bedroom, if you don't mind. I'm so tired. Can I take a tray with me upstairs?"
"Of course, you can. Just go up and relax, make yourself warm. I'll bring you a tray in a few minutes."
"Wonderful. Thank you very much, Paul."
Amanda went up the staircase, wondering why Paul had reacted so oddly when she had mentioned the castle. Was there something about this place that Mr. Perrier should've told her? Maybe it was this important matter he wanted to discuss with her?
She would soon
find out, but for the moment, she needed two things: food and rest.
Chapter 17
A s soon as Amanda opened the door of her room, d'Artagnan jumped up on her.
Where the hell were you? The dog looked at her as if she had abandoned him for a century. What did you do all day without me?
He started to circle around Amanda nervously.
"I know, I know, d'Art. I've been away for a while, sorry. I had something important to do."
She patted the Great Dane’s back to calm him down. The dog wagged his tail and stood up on his back legs to put his paws on Amanda’s shoulders.
"All right. I promise we'll go out for a walk later."
Someone knocked at the door. Paul entered, carrying a tray, bringing with him divine smells of butter, leeks, beef and brown sauce. D'Artagnan's attention was immediately diverted.
Food! The dog rushed to sniff the tray.
“Oh, oh!” said Paul, “I see that someone here appreciates homemade cuisine.”
“Behave, d’Artagnan!” said Amanda.
The dog looked at her. What? Not doing anything wrong. I’m just sniffing!
Paul left the tray on the desk. "I added some Camembert and a piece of fresh baguette. And a little glass of red wine, of course." Paul winked. "On the house. Have a good evening, Amanda."
“Thank you very much, Paul.”
The man left. D’Artagnan sat beside the desk, keeping his eyes on the dishes. The dog was salivating. Wow! Is this for us? It smells sooo good!
Amanda looked for something in the nightstand drawer. D'Artagnan got closer to the tray, slowly, to avoid attracting Amanda’s attention.
"Even if my back is turned, d'Art, I know what you're doing. Behave, if you really want a piece of this."
Damn! That's torture, thought the dog.
"Ah. Here it is." Amanda pointed a remote control at the television and pushed a button to turn on the big screen.
"Let's see what's good on French TV, d'Art."
Amanda sat on the bed comfortably and tapped on the mattress. The dog jumped on the bed to lie beside his friend. He put his head three inches away from the tray and stared at the beef stew, in case it tried to escape, you never know.
French Cuisine Can Kill You Page 5
