Her mouth trembled and there were tears streaming down her face though she was scarcely aware of it. 'It's true,' she insisted in a husky whisper. 'You know it's true, Raoul!'
^You know nothing of the matter!' Raoul declared firmly, and came to stand directly in front of her. 'You have been with us for—how long? A little over one month? And you imagine that you know the situation between my cousin and his wife better than we who have known them for so much longer?' The steely grey eyes flashed. 'You presume a great deal, ma fille !'
Reckless in her anger, Charlotte looked up into the stem 'shadowed face and tried not to remember how that tight mouth had been warm on her skin when he kissed her. 'You surely can't deny that Michel's—playing house with Annette Villeaux!' she said. 'That's where he was when I
rang to tell him that his wife had ' She shook her head
and swallowed hard. 'Do you think Lizette doesn't feel anything}^
Raoul drew on his cigarette deeply several times before he answered her. Then he spoke in a flat harsh voice that matched the steely gleam in his eyes as he crushed out the barely smoked cigarette. 'No one denies Michel's—shortcomings, but there are, as you English are so fond of saying, two sides to every question! Lizette is a woman who is seemingly incapable of making a relationship work; the fault does not lie entirely with Michel!'
Choosing to see an implication, whether or not one was intended, Charlotte looked up at him direcdy, her face flushed and a bright challenging gleam in her eyes. 'Is it
because she^s English that you have such a low opinion of her?* she asked. 'Do you find Englishwomen so much less satisfactory in that direction? Is that your opinion, Monsieur Raoul?'
She recalled how sure he had been that she enjoyed being kissed; how he had called it a weakness and anticipated with pleasure exploiting that weakness. Her heart was beating hard and fast, for she believed he had spoken the truth when he claimed he would enjoy making her tell him her secret and he was breathing deeply at this moment as if he held tightly to his self-control.
Then his eyes moved down to the soft tremulous quiver of her mouth. *I have no complaints personally,' he said. 'But then I am not married to one and I have a free choice I'
'So you condone his behaviour because you share your cousin's taste for promiscuity, I suppose!'
She spoke recklessly and she did not anticipate in time the sudden hardness of his hands on her arms, pulling her to him forcibly for the second time in such a short time that she could experience the lean, virile excitement of his body with her senses seconds before the actual physical contact took her breath away. He held her firmly as if he expected her to resist, then crushed his mouth over hers until her head whirled as if in delirium.
*You suppose correcdy, ma belle V he agreed harshly, and thrust her away from him to go striding out of the room without a backward glance.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Charlotte was very much at a loose end without Lizette, even though to help her take her mind off the shock of it Madame Menais had given her quite enough jobs to do to
keep her occupied for the whole of the following day. It had not been mentioned, of course, but they both knew why it was that the hospital doctor^s reports were not as encouraging as they might have been.
Charlotte had absolutely no doubt that Michel was ultimately responsible for what had happened, and she had fervently hoped that she would not come into contact with him, for she would have found it very hard to be polite to him. She was never very adept at concealing how she felt, and whatever anyone else felt, she could find no excuse for him at all.
It fell to Charlotte's lot to pack a small suitcase with some of Lizette's things ready for Madame Menais to take with her to the hospital the next time she went. It was a task she performed willingly enough, but it was rather surprising to realise that she was given the job because she knew more about Lizette's likes and dislikes regarding her personal things than any of her family did; she found that rather sad somehow.
. While she packed she mused on her present standing with Raoul. Their attitude towards one another had the effect of making her feel strangely resdess, for something in both their make-ups seemed to make arguments inevitable and wildly passionate. Their temperaments clashed each time they found themselves alone together, and yet there was a curiously exciting feeling about the clashes, as well as the fact that so far they had almost always resulted in kisses. And RaouPs kisses were not something she could contemplate without feeling the kind of excitement that made her head spin, even in retrospect.
It was a situation not without its dangers when she considered what he was Hkely to do if he ever discovered that she believed his namesake to be her father. Hastily suppressing a slight shiver at the prospect, she pulled open the bottom drawer of Lizette's dressing-table to see if there
was anything there that was likely to be needed.
Unlike the rest of the drawers with their neat and tidy contents, this drawer appeared to be simply a conglomeration of items that had been discarded without being thrown away. There was a white satin-bound prayer book that had yellowed with age and a tiny rag doll of the kind given away at fairgrounds. Small, touchingly useless things that smelled of nostalgia as they lay there in jumbled confusion.
Near the front she noticed an ivory-backed hairbrush edged with gilt and with gilt initials twined together on the back. There was nothing there that was likely to be needed in hospital, and Charlotte was about to close the drawer on the pathetic collection of treasures when the initials on the back of the hairbrush caught her eye once'more and she reached down to take it in her hand.
The ivory was yellowed with age, like the satin prayer book, and the gilt letters more fused with its colour so as to be less distinguishable than they would once have been, but still plain enough to read. The bristles were worn down and uneven, past being useable, so that it was difficult to imagine why anyone would want to keep it, and yet Lizette had it there among her half-forgotten treasures. Holding it in her hand, Charlotte traced the gilt letters with a fingertip and frowned curiously. The first letter was very definitely an *E', there was no mistake about it.
*Ah, there you are, child! Have you put in all that is likely to be needed?*
Charlotte looked up quickly, almost guiltily, when Madame Menais came into the room, but it was too late to put the brush back without looking furtive about it, so she went on holding it in her hand while she looked up at the old lady and smiled. 1 think so, madame. I know the pink silk nightgown is a favourite and so is the cream robe. Madame Lizette will like to have those.*
*Ah, Charlotte, but what an observant child you are!'
Madame Menais made a check of the contents of the case then nodded her satisfaction. *That will be perfect, ma chere, thank you.' She noticed the hairbrush then and looked at it curiously. *Where on earth did you find that, chHd?'
*In this drawer, madame.^ Charlotte had the sudden uneasy feeling that she had come too close to private matters and she looked at the old lady uncertainly. *It seems to be full of souvenirs, madame; keepsakes that Madame Lizette didn't want to part with. I shouldn't really have looked in there, I suppose.'
Madame Menais held out her hand for it, turning it over and over in her hand with a curiously distant look on her lined face. Toor Lizette,' she said sofdy, and half to herself, Charlotte thought. *I had no idea she still had this—all those years ago! Pauvre enfant J*
It was oddly touching to hear Lizette referred to as a poor child, but her own curiosity was almost overwhelming as she stood watching the old lady musing over the worn-out hairbrush. 'Did it belong to Madame Lizette?' she ventured, and added hastily lest there should be some misunderstanding of her reason for asking, *I noticed that the back of it '
*Ivory,' Madame Menais said, turning it once more in her hand. *It was part of a double wedding gift, a complete set of two brushes, combs and mirrors. I had no idea that any of it was still in existence.'
Something tingled along Charlotte
's spine like a finger of ice, although she could think of no cause for it. She was more than simply curious and the urge to ask for more information was irresistible. 'I noticed that the letter, the first letter on the back is "E",' she pointed out, and Madame Menais half-smiled.
*That is right, child. Before she became wholly French for Michel's sake, Lizette was a very English Elizabeth.'
Charlotte felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her and she took a firm grip on the edge of the dressing-table, holding her breath for a full half-minute as she tried tcTcontrol the wild, urgent beating of her heart. She remembered how Jean Cordet had laughed at the idea of rumours suggesting Lizette had once had a lover a long time ago. But to Charlotte who had seen a photograph downstairs in Monsieur Bemard^s office of a younger and prettier Lizette with Raoul Menais's arm around her shoulders and Michel standing stiff and sulky beside them, the idea was not laughable. She thought she knew now who Lizette's secret lover had been; it all fitted in so neatly.
It seemed as if an hour had passed instead of the few seconds it was in reality, and in that time Charlotte convinced herself that she at last knew her own connection with the Menais family. She had no doubt that the Elizabeth Menais now known as Lizette was the same one whose name was engraved on her baby bracelet. Just as surely as she knew that Raoul Menais, Madame Menais's precious younger son, had been her father and Lizette's secret lover.
She could see it all as clearly as if it was being played out on a stage in front of her eyes. The Menais would not tolerate scandals, she had it on good authority, so Charlotte, the love-child, had been given up for adoption. Men of Michel Menais's type did not accept their own pattern of behaviour in their wives, and for a moment bitterness welled up inside her.
She had little to complain of from her own point of view, for no namral mother could have loved her more than Mary Kennedy had loved her, but perhaps it had been different for Lizette. Poor unhappy Lizette who cried too often and too long, and sought to dull her unhappiness with wine and endless pills.
*I think we can leave anything else until another time, Charlotte.' Madame Menais's voice brought her so sharply
back to reality that she stared at the old lady blankly for a moment, her eyes unseeing and vaguely misty because she was on the brink of tears. ^Charlotte? What is the matter with you, child?' Madame Menais sounded anxious and she was looking at her in surprise. *Are you ill?'
Charlotte shook her head, hastily bringing herself back to normal and unable to tell her the truth. *0h no, madame, thank you—I'm all right.'
But the old lady was not so easily convinced and she touched her cheek lightly with her finger-tips, turning her face to the light so tliat she could see it better. *You look pale, child, and so—upset. Perhaps you should see Doctor Luman; you still feel the shock, perhaps. Reaction can be very unpleasant.'
*0h no, madame^ really, I'm perfectly all right!'
The old lady studied her for a moment, seemingly unconvinced, but eventually yielded to persuasion as she patted her cheek once more and cautioned her, *Very well, but take care. If you show any sign of becoming unwell I shall insist that Doctor Luman is sent for. Now'—to Charlotte's relief she bustled back to normality—*put away that brush and close the valise^ child. I shall not be leaving for the hospital for an hour or so yet, but you must remind me of it before I go.'
*Yes, of course, madame.^ The old lady was already at the door when Charlotte called after her, impulsive as ever. * Madame —how is Madame Lizette, really V
Just for a moment the grey eyes had a curiously absent look and the old lady seemed to take a moment or two to decide how best to answer. *She is alive,' she said eventually, *but she lacks the will to stay alive. It is a kind of limbo that she finds herself in and no one can save her from it, it seems, although we are all trying very hard.'
Tears hovered much too close and Charlotte swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. She could not bear to think
of Lizette giving up, not before she had had time to appreciate their relationship, and she pressed on in a small shaky voice that she could do little to control. *She won't— she isn't going to '
'She will survive, child,' Madame Menais assured her quiedy, but her eyes had a touch of the familiar shrewdness behind the compassion when she looked at her. *I had not quite realised how attached to her you had become, Charlotte. You have a soft heart, ma chere^ but it will do no good if you allow yourself to become so anxious that you are ill. No one blames you in the least for what Lizette did, you could not be expected to be with her every minute.' She lifted her head and looked for a moment down that fine aristocratic nose at her. 'Charlotte—my grandson has not suggested that you are in any way to blame, has he?'
Charlotte's answer was swift and made without stopping to think about what she said. 'Oh no, madame, how could he when he was with me when it happened?'
She realised the effect of what she said when she saw Madame Menais's fine brows arch swifdy above narrowed grey eyes. *I see,' she said with remarkable aplomb, and was apparently quite prepared to accept her word for it. 'Well, no one at all blames you, child, and you must not allow yourself to become upset about it, you must not cry.' A light finger brushed her moist lashes briefly and the old lady smiled. 'See that it is so,' she instructed. 'And now you will think no more about it, eh?'
'I'll try, madame —I'm sorry.'
*Ah, non, noriy' the old lady said kindly from the doorway. 'You have no need to apologise, Charlotte; there are few enough to cry for poor Lizette.' Glancing at the case that still lay open on the dressing stool, she nodded. 'Do not let me leave for the hospital without Lizette's case, hmm?'
Charlotte attempted a smile. 'I won't, madame.^
'Bonne filleF Madame Menais approved, and closed the door quietly behind her.
For quite some time Charlotte stayed in her own room, doing small jobs that did not need any degree of concentration, because her mind was on other matters. She had made progress today, more progress than she had made in the whole time she had been there, but there were still things to consider, like coming to terms with the fact that her natural parents had not been married.
It was something she had always known was more than a possibility, but somehow now that she had more or less established it to her own satisfaction it was much more difficult to accept, and it was bound to bring her search to a halt for the time being. Almost certainly the affair between Lizette and Raoul's namesake would have been kept quiet; it was no more than a rumour, Jean had said, and he had apparently no idea at all who the lover was. She could well imagine the eflFect on the family of suddenly learning that the result of the illicit Haison was in their midst after more than twenty years. The one thipg that gave her genuine pleasure, even though it had to be kept to herself, was the fact that Madame Menais was her grandmother as well as Raoul's—she revelled in the warm feeling that gave her.
She only realised how long she had been in her room when she glanced at her wristwatch and then she sighed in exasperation, for Madame Menais must have left for the hospital some time ago and she had forgotten to remind her of the case for Lizette. Probably the old lady had been less forgetful, but she checked out Lizette's room anyway.
The case still sat there on the dressing stool and she stood for a moment trying to decide whether or not to take it to the hospital herself. They might even allow her to see Lizette, although in the circumstances it was doubtful. Nevertheless it was with the hope of an exception being
made that she finally decided.
Celine met her crossing the hall with it and eyed her for a moment rather suspiciously. No one of less than ten years' standing was completely to be trusted with family business in Celine's opinion. *You are to go out, Miss Kennedy?' she asked in her somewhat tangled English, and Charlotte nodded.
She had been hoping to leave unseen, but there was little that escaped Celine's eagle eye and it had been a vain hope when she thought about it. I'm taking Madame Lizette's case to the h
ospital for her,' she explained without breaking step. *Madame Menais was going to take it with her, but she must have forgotten it.'
She already had the front doors open, but Celine was not yet satisfied. *You will take Vautobus, mademoiselle?^
*That's right,' Charlotte called from the doorway, vaguely irritated by the woman's mother-hen possessiveness. 'There's one due along in about ten minutes, if I hurry I can just about catch it!'
'But one could send for a chauffeur and '
Til take the bus, Celine, thank you.' She turned to smile and wave a hand at the housekeeper who now stood framed in the doorway. 'Au revoirP
Celine watched her go, not altogether happy about it but not quite knowing what she could do about anything, and Charlotte hurried on down the tree-lined drive to the road. The buses that passed every hour or so ran directiy to the capital, so she could not go wrong and the ride would give her more time to think.
She sat by a window with Lizette's case on the seat beside her, and watched the famihar landmarks flit by while she dwelt on her own nebulous future. The landscape spread out, flat-palmed like an open hand with fresh green fields, then closed tighdy on clusters of trees like miniature forests, spread again to reveal small farms and chateaux set
in acres of woodland and meadows, and at last the familiar neat, discreet but still alien complex of the Menais works.
The buildings were deserted at the moment, but Charlotte barely noticed the fact in her preoccupation. It was not until the small white caretaker's house at the very end of the complex came into view that her mind was snatched suddenly from her own situation and plunged into another.
Parked out there on the short neat drive of Annette Villeaux's home and in full view of the road this time was the firm's Mercedes; the one that Jean had so gleefully pointed out to her on a previous occasion. Presumably Michel was unconcerned who saw it there now; he probably even hoped he would not need to be discreet for much longer with Lizette so ill, and at the thought of his callousness Charlotte reacted swiftly and angrily.
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