Lost Heritage

by Rebecca Stratton

  Madame Menais had told her they would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning and she gave herself plenty of time, having no hesitation this time about taking a taxi to the hotel. The desk clerk, she thought, looked at her rather strangely in^ J^ first instance when she enquired for Madame Menais, then he shook his head slowly.

  *I think you must have something wrong somewhere, miss,' he told her. *Monsieur and Madame Menais left nearly an hour ago for the airport. Their flight leaves at ten, so I understood.'

  Charlotte checked her watch automatically then gazed at the man in blank despair. It was obvious what she had done, of course. Madame Menais had not intended her to believe that they were leaving the hotel at ten o'clock, but leaving for France, and she had stupidly not checked with her. Momentarily at a complete loss, she gazed helplessly at the man behind the desk.

  *ril never make it,' she said with a quiver in her voice. *What can I do?'

  The clerk responded as he was bound to do when appealed to so direcdy by a very pretty girl, and he smiled encouragingly at her while he offered his help. *ril get you a taxi, miss, and you can take the next flight out.* He picked up the telephone while he spoke and winked a reassuring eye as he dialled. 'You might even make the oat you're scheduled for if it's been delayed, it's only half an hour on a good run to the airport. Don't you worry, miss, we'll get you there.'

  It had to be some kind of miracle, Charlotte decided, that got her taxi through the traffic and to the airport so quickly, but even so she was too late for the flight she should have been on. Maybe, just maybe, Madame Menais had left her ticket with the reception desk and she could follow on another flight; but it was asking rather too much of a new employer, she reahsed, and she almost burst into tears as she got out of the taxi and glanced at her watch.

  It was nearly ten-twenty-five, and if her ticket had not been left for her she could say goodbye to not only a job she had been looking forward to, but also the chance to unearth something about her background. The information desk was her immediate target and she had already turned in that direction when she spotted a face in the crowd that stopped her in her tracks.

  Charlotte could never imagine herself pleased to see Raoul Menais's menacingly lean figure heading towards her, but for a second or two she actually welcomed the sight of him. But he was frowning and it seemed so inevitable somehow that welcome gave way to an inward sigl} of resignation. But for all that she spoke up quickly the moment he joined her.

  I'm sorry about this, Monsieur Menais,' she said hastily, automaticaUy giving him his name. I'm afraid I didn't quite understand '

  'There is no time for explanations now!' he told her

  brusquely, and took her suitcases from her forcibly, leaving her to scurry after him as he strode back through the crowded hall. Tortunately for you, mademoiselle^' he told her in that brisk and completely impersonal voice, *our flight has been delayed or you would have been left behind. Please hurry!'

  , *I am hurrying.* She defended herself automatically, still trying to understand why he was there, obviously lo(^dng for her, when she would have expected complete indifference to whether she came or not. Unless Madame Menais had sent him; that, on reflection, seemed the most obvious answer, but she still made an effort to let him know how it had happened even though he had already denied the necessity. 1 didn't realise that Madame Menais referred to a ten o'clock flight, you see, I went to the hotel.'

  She could hardly keep pace with him and her voice was Ught and breathless, but obviously he still wasn't interested in explanations, for he shrugged his broad shoulders impatiently. It is of no consequence to me, mademoiselle^ except that you hurry!'

  Charlotte complied, too dazed to do anything else, while he saw her dirough the necessary preliminaries, and she found herself boarding the Paris-bound plane with a firm hand under her elbow that seemed to suggest she was under some kind of restraint. Seconds later she was pushed without ceremony into a seat alongside a young man, and caught no more than a glimpse of Madame Menais's grey head further alcmg towards the front of the plane.

  The young man who shared her seat looked vaguely surprised for a moment and glanced up at Raoul Menais. A few words in French apparendy gave him certain instructions and he nodded his head, a smile already in evidence. *Oui, monsieur^* he said with just enough deference to make his positicm clear, ^naturellement !'

  Charlotte watched her erstwhile escort go striding off

  towards the front of the plane, then turned when she reahsed that the young man beside her was smiling enquiringly. *Good morning,' she said, and saw the bright gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

  *Ah, good morning, mademoiselle; I suspected that you might be EngHsh!'

  From that brief exchange with Raoul Menais it was pretty clear that he also was an employee, and that she had been put in his charge during the flight. He helped her with her seat belt without being asked, so evidently he meant to take his instruction hterally, but he was good-looking and so far quite charming, so Charlotte had no objection at all.

  'You almost missed the flight, mademoiselle,'' he said as he sat back in his seat. Terhaps Monsieur Raoul had it delayed especially for your sake?'

  Taking the suggestion purely at face value, Charlotte pulled a wry face. *A scheduled flight?' she said, doubting if even Raoul Menais's powers extended that far. 'Hardly, I'm not that important—particularly not ia Monsieur Menais's opinion!'

  *Then in the opinion of his grand'mere, perhaps?' he suggested, and so enabled Charlotte to fit another piece into place; Madame Menais was his grandmother.

  Offering him her hand, she introduced herself. 'I'm Charlotte Kennedy, a very new girl to the ranks,' she said.

  Her hand was grasped and her fingers squeezed tightly for a moment, and released only reluctandy. 'Jean Cordet,' he told her, 'and I too am a small cog in the wheel. Mademoiselle Kennedy—a what you call a P.R.O. with the Menais company and very unimportant.'

  'Oh, Fm sure you're not unimportant if you've been brought along to this conference,' she said. 'It's a very important one, isn't it?' Anyone who had very much to do with Raoul Menais would be in need of an occasional morale-booster, she suspected, unless she had misjudged

  the man. 'How long have you been with the finn. Monsieur Cordet?'

  'Several years now, almost five years.'

  'You enjoy it?' she asked, then caught his eye and noticed the bright dark twinkle there.

  'Never so much as at this moment, mademoiselley* he told her.^I am grateful to Monsieur Raoul for making you my travelling companion. If you are to be an employee perhaps we shall see much of one another; in whsit capacity are you to be employed. Miss Kennedy? The publicity department, perhaps, that would be very gratifying!'

  'I'm afraid not,' Charlotte denied, but she smiled when she said it, for being among the family was more important to her own interests than being just part of the general ofBce staff. 'I'm to be companion-secretary to another Madame Menais, so I've been told. I had thought perhaps it might be Monsieur Menais—that is Monsieur Raoul Menais's wife, but '

  'But he has no wife, mademoiselle.^ Jean Cordet's eyes gleamed speculatively at her. 'Both of the other directeurs have wives, but only one of them, I think, will need the services of both a companion and a secretary. It will be Madame Lizette Menais for whom you are to work, Miss Kennedy, I have no doubt; the wife of Monsieur Michel.'

  'Oh, I see.' Charlotte looked at him a little uncertainly, then laughed and shook her head. 'It all sounds a bit complicated at the moment, but I expect it's just me being slow to understand.'

  'Oh no, I think not,' Jean Cordet denied gallandy, and smiled encouragingly. 'You will find it less confusing when you know everyone, of course. The directeurs are known by their first names to avoid confusion, so that will help a little, eh?'

  'Every little helps,' Charlotte agreed, and laughed uneasily when it occurred to her that she might have got

  herself into something rather more complicated than she thought.


  Smiling and anxious to be of help, Jean Cordet turned in his seat. 'So,' he said. 'Monsieur Raoul, whom you have met, is known as le patron, which means the boss, eh?' Charlotte nodded, convinced it was a well-earned tide. 'Although it is Monsieur Bernard, his father, who is head of the firm since the death of Monsieur Hilaire; the third directeur is Monsieur Michel who is a kind of cousin, I believe. The ladies are Madame Menais, whom you have also met, Madame Marie who is the wife of Monsieur Bernard, and Madame Lizette who is the wife of Monsieur Michel.'

  Charlotte glanced along to where the top of Raoul Menais's arrogant black head showed above the back of his seat. Nothing had been mentioned about another Raoul Menais, and for a moment she wondered if she might not have made all her effort in vain. However, it was early days yet and she was always optimistic.

  'And you think it most likely I'll be working for— Madame Lizette?' she asked, and Jean Cordet nodded con-fidendy.

  'I think it most likelyy mademoiselle.^

  *Ah well,' she sighed, but foresaw more difficulties than she had anticipated, sorting out her own basic roots from the tangle she was presented with.

  She was brought swifdy back to reality when light fingers reached over and clasped her hand. 'But may we not talk of other things for the moment, Miss Kennedy?' Jean Cordet suggested with a smile.

  In fact the flight seemed far shorter than Charlotte expected, thanks to the interest of her companion, and as the plane touched down she felt a flutter of excitement once more at the prospect before her. On Jean Cordet's advice she made no effort to leave her seat, but let the rest of the passengers go first, while he pointed out aU the points of

  interest in the vast new airport, via the window beside him.

  He constantly turned his head to speak, bringing their faces close together, a fact he obviously appreciated but which came to an abrupt end when Charlotte heard her name called sharply from the doorway, and she looked round swiftly to see Raoul Menais signalling to her with what she now assumed was habitual impatience.

  ^Mademoiselle,^ he informed her as she struggled to her feet, 'you will accompany Madame Menais through the barriere, if you please, while I supervise the disposal of our baggage.*

  *Yes, of course, monsieur V

  Most of the other passengers had already disembarked, she noticed, and she had not realised it until she looked along the rows of empty seats and the stewardess standing padendy at the top of the gangway. Jean Cordet had proved to be a very persuasive talker and she had become completely engrossed in what he was telling her, so that it was instinctive to glance back at him as she moved away. She caught the faint, resigned shrug of his shoulders and a brief smile, and so, it seemed, did Raoul Menais.

  His cool, deep voice cut once more across the stifled, flat quiet of the cabin. 'If you will be good enough to move quickly, mademoiselle, I shall be obliged! Rest assured that Monsieur Cordet will take care of himself quite well!'

  Flushed and discomfited under the eye of t{ie stewardess, Charlotte held her natural indignation in check as she made her way towards him along the narrow aisle to where he stood in the doorway. She could not protest at this stage, not with her own future in the balance if she offended him, but she had no intention of letting him think he could get away with bullying her.

  'I wasn't aware that you needed me. Monsieur Menais,' she told him, and caught the swift elevation of (xie black brow.

  7 do not need you, mademoiselley^ he informed her coolly. 'Madame Menais does!'

  'Oh, but of course that's what I meant '

  'Raoul!' Madame Menais's finn voice somehow managed to convey a reprimand without putting it into words and she came along the aisle with her back straight and her head angled in a way that showed her quite capable of dealing with even her domineering grandson. 'Please allow Miss Kennedy to pass so that she may see me down those wretchedly steep steps.'

  He turned at once and held out a hand. 'Ah, Grand'mere, je vais *

  'I do not need you, mon brave,^ Madame Menais informed him firmly, and Charlotte could scarcely believe she saw the glitter of mischief in her eyes when she looked at her. 'You will ensure that I do not break my neck, will you not. Miss Kennedy?'

  Charlotte took her arm, feeling quite inordinately pleased to have Raoul Menais put in his place without having to lift a finger herself. 'Yes, of course, madame,^ she said.

  The old lady smiled and nodded as Charlotte saw her through the door and on to the steps. 'You are a good girl,' she said complacendy, 'and we shall get along splendidly. Perhaps I will steal you away from Lizette and have you to care for me instead, eh?'

  Raoul Menais said something to her in French which made her chuckle, but she was shaking her head as she followed Charlotte down the steps into the cool spring air. Charlotte held her hand, just enough to guide her, but from the comer of her eye she was aware of Raoul Menais frowning darkly and of Jean Cordet's broad smile just behind him.

  Her first step in discovering her original family, she felt, had begun with rather more upheaval than she had anticipated, but she firmly believed she was on the right track.

  Certainly Madame Menais was just the sort of family she would have chosen for herself, given the opportunity, and with the old lady as an ally there was less need to fear that black frown of Raoul Menais's. His grandmother knew how to handle him, though she was probably the only woman who could.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Charlotte's first impression of the Menais household was that it could prove to be even more complicated than she had anticipated. Her first sight of the family home was from the car that took them from the airport and was not quite what she expected. Raoul Menais rode in front with the chauffeur, a situation he obviously disliked, while Charlotte occupied the back seat with Madame Menais. Raoul, Charlotte suspected, would have preferred to do his own driving, but the car and the chauffeur were his grandmother's and for once he was not in a position to take command.

  Once clear of the suburbs of Paris the countryside was delightful, and fresh with spring—tall trees and sunny meadows and houses that squatted deep amid blossom trees. It was Madame Menais who pointed out the first glimpse of her home as they sped along a narrow road beside lush green meadows, and Charlotte eased forward in her seat for a better view.

  At first she saw no more than a suggestion of high pointed spires seen through a mass of trees bearing tall white candles of blossom; chesmuts, neat and roimd as country wives standing in the warm spring sunshine. Then through occasional gaf)s in the foliage she caught glimpses

  of turrets and steep sloping roofs, breathtaking glimpses that suggested something much different from the small suburban house with its patch of garden that she was used to.

  'It looks enormous/ she ventured, and Madame Menais smiled.

  That was one of the most reassuring things about her, Charlotte had discovered, even after such short acquaintance; she was so very understanding. Her pride and self-possession were inborn but, unlike her grandson, she had gendeness and an ability to recognise nervousness and sympathise with it.

  'Not so very large, child,' she told Charlotte encouragingly as the car turned along a chestnut-lined driveway. *It contains several households in one, as you will discover. We no longer hve en famille in the old sense of the word, although we are all under one roof.'

  'Oh, I see.'

  Charlotte was not quite sure what she had expected would be the conditions under which she lived, but the prospect of living under the same roof as Raoul Menais was faintly disturbing. It could, of course, prove to her advantage in the long run, for the more members of the Menais family she came into contact with the more chance she stood of discovering her own connection with them, if indeed one existed.

  'It's beautiful too,' she said. 'But I hadn't anticipated anything quite so—grand.'

  'Alas, it can no longer be called grand,' Madame Menais informed her with obvious regret, 'not as you mean the word. Miss Kennedy. It is beautiful, but sadly it is litde more than a bl
ock of appartements these days, and part of the ground floor is used as offices by my son and the other directors. It is better perhaps than to sell it and have strangers move into it, but it is not what my dear Hilaire would have wished.'

  From the way she looked at the averted head of her grandson it was clear at whose instigation the changes had been made and, as if he sensed the look, Raoul spoke without turning his head. The fact that he said what he did in English instead of French was, Charlotte guessed, more to ensure that the chauffeur did not understand what was said than out of courtesy to her.

  *The English have a saying, Grand'mere,' he told her, and his deep voice softened so noticeably that it was obvious he sympathised with her view even though he could not support it. *One cannot have the cake and also eat it-it is so with Les Chataignes.'

  Leaning forward Madame Menais pressed her long slim fingers into his shoulder and smiled gendy at the lean arrogant profile he presented. *I am aware of it, mon cher^ she told him, *but I am too old to accept things as easily as you do. You must forgive me if I sometimes grieve for the old times and the old ways, it is an old woman's privilege. Is that not so, Miss Kennedy?'

  Momentarily startled at being brought into their conversation, Charlotte hesitated with her answer and in doing so lost the opportunity, for Raoul immediately stepped in. 'Mademoiselle is hardly qualified to answer from the view of old age, Grand'mere,' he suggested, and just for a moment he turned his head and looked direcdy at Charlotte sitting in the comer of the seat with her face in the shadows. 'She is much too young.'

  *So you have already said,' his grandmother reminded him tardy. *But Miss Kennedy is a very intelligent and understanding young woman and we shall get along very well together.'

  Once more that brief, sceptical look took stock of Charlotte's flushed face and evasively uncertain eyes, and he shrugged. *Let us hope that Lizette will feel as confident

  as you are,' he said shortly, and gave his attention to the road ahead.

  It was not altogether surprising to learn that he considered her too young for the post she had been given, or that he had said as much to his grandmother, but Charlotte took a poor view of his opinion. He obviously considered himself better qualified to judge too, so 'it was up to Charlotte to prove Madame Menais' judgment correct