by Rosie Clarke
‘Have you been in the sun?’ he said, smiling at her. ‘You’ve got freckles on your nose, Hetty.’
‘Oh, damn,’ she said and laughed. ‘Adele warned me to wear my hat, but it slipped off when I was picking the raspberries and I didn’t bother to put it on again.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I like your freckles,’ Pierre said. ‘Come and talk to me for a while, Hetty.’
‘Yes, if you want.’
They went into a quiet cool room that looked out onto the front gardens. Pierre poured himself a small cognac, but Hetty shook her head as he offered her the same.
‘I wanted to tell you how grateful I am for all you’ve done for us, Hetty.’
‘I haven’t done anything. Adele has given me a home and I’ve lived here, that’s all.’
She knew that she had gained as much as she had given. Living in the chateau had been pleasant, though she wasn’t sure she would want it to continue after the war. Being Adele’s friend and companion was one thing, but to be the mistress here and Pierre’s wife was a big commitment.
Pierre smiled and shook his head. ‘You’ve done much more. Grand-mère relies on you so much – and you ran the resistance group until I came back. No one has forgotten that. Stefan said you were one of his best people.’
‘I was never his!’
Pierre smiled slightly. ‘He meant to pay you a compliment. He wanted to know if you were with us tonight.’
‘And am I?’ Hetty raised her head hopefully.
‘I would prefer that you stay with Grand-mère. If I should be killed she would be alone.’
‘Don’t say such things!’
‘It is a risk we all take. This is important, Hetty. You have not forgotten what I told you about the solicitors in London?’
‘No, of course not. But you mustn’t think of being killed or it will happen.’
‘Would you mind very much, Hetty?’
‘You know I would.’
‘Then marry me soon, darling. You know I love you.’
‘Yes.’ Hetty moved towards him impulsively. She had a sudden sense of impending disaster and she was afraid for him, her doubts temporarily forgotten. ‘Yes, Pierre. I shall marry you. We’ll arrange it as soon as you like.’
Surprise and then dawning pleasure showed in his eyes. ‘Thank you. I was afraid you would say no again.’
‘You know I care for you?’
‘Yes, I do know,’ he said. ‘You are not in love with me but you care for me. Is it enough, Hetty?’
‘We shall make it enough.’ Hetty wanted to give happiness to those she cared for, because there was too much pain and suffering.
Pierre reached out to touch her cheek. ‘I have dreamed of making love to you again, darling, but for a long time I was not strong enough. I did not want to fail you.’
‘Are you strong enough now?’ Her smile was enticing, inviting his response.
‘I think so, but we shall wait until this thing is over. Stefan was here just now. I have to meet him in an hour. That is not sufficient time. I want to please you, to show you that the arm makes no difference. I can still make you happy, my love.’
‘Yes, I am sure you can.’ She gazed up at him as she moved closer, reaching up to kiss him on the mouth. ‘Besides, I have two arms and I know how to make us both happy – remember?’
‘Oh yes,’ Pierre said huskily. ‘I remember. I wondered if you had forgotten?’
‘I forget nothing.’
Her kiss was sweet and lingering. Pierre’s arm held her pressed against him and she felt the shudder of desire run through him.
‘You have not been so alive in months, Hetty?’
‘I have been grieving for my brother,’ she said. ‘But this afternoon in the sunshine I realised that we must think of the future. We cannot go on looking back – I cannot.’
It would be a challenge, being Pierre’s wife, but she would meet it as she had all the other challenges she had known – and he was going into danger. She wanted him to have something to come back for.
‘Good! I am glad that you feel better.’ His fingers trailed her cheek lovingly. ‘I have things to do, Hetty. I shall see you very soon – but you will not forget the lawyer?’
She placed a finger to his lips. ‘Did I not tell you? I forget nothing. When you return, we shall tell Adele of our plans.’
‘She will be so happy. It is what she longs for – my marriage and an heir for the family.’
‘I am not sure I can give you a child, Pierre.’ Hetty’s eyes clouded because her failure to give Henri a child might have been one of the things that had made him look elsewhere. ‘If that is your reason for…’
He silenced her with a kiss. ‘That is my desire. The child will come or not as it pleases.’ He looked at her in silence. ‘No matter what happens, always remember that I cared for you and Adele.’
Hetty nodded, but her doubts surfaced once more. One of the reasons she had held back from giving her promise to marry was her fear that she would not be able to give Pierre the son she knew both he and his grandmother would expect. But she had given her word now and if Pierre returned she would keep it.
If he returned? Hetty shivered. She mustn’t let the fear creep in or the waiting would be unbearable. It would be much easier if she’d been allowed to go with them, but she had to do what Pierre asked of her and she knew Adele suffered when her grandson was involved in a dangerous mission.
*
It was past midnight when Hetty at last persuaded the Comtesse that there was no point in them keeping an all-night vigil.
‘We cannot know how long it will take,’ Hetty told her. ‘Pierre said he would return when he could – that might be hours or even days.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Adele’s hands were blue-veined and knotted with arthritis. She suffered considerable pain but never spoke of it, the only sign a grimace when she found it awkward to lift one of the beautiful old wine glasses. ‘You are right, Hetty. I shall go to bed. You should go too.’
‘Would you like some warm milk to help you sleep?’
‘Pah!’ Adele pulled a face. ‘Milk is for babies. I have some cognac in my room. It will help me sleep if I need it.’
‘The doctor said it was not good for you, Adele.’
‘He is an old woman,’ Adele muttered. ‘I shall outlive him and his mewling sister!’
Hetty smiled as her friend went off to bed. Adele seemed to delight in defying both her doctor and his well-meaning sister, who visited them now and then.
She waited another hour before going upstairs. Undressing, she sat brushing her hair by the light of the moon, her window open to its silvery glow. That moon worried her. It was too bright! Dark nights were best for what Stefan and Pierre were about.
She wished she was with them! Waiting made her nervous.
She remembered how nervous Ben had been the night he was killed. He had felt the shame of his failure, but it hadn’t been his fault alone. The ammunition truck had been moved further down into the convoy – a sudden change of plan, an accident or a mistake on her brother’s part? No one would ever know. It was just unfortunate that it had led to Ben’s death.
But she’d made up her mind not to brood over that. There was nothing she could do – except wait.
*
The next two days were difficult to bear. Hetty could see the anxiety in Bernard’s face as he went about his duties. Like her, he had been forced to stay behind, but his grandson had been one of those picked for the mission.
On the evening of the second day, Bernard went down to the village. When he returned, his face was grey with fear.
‘No one knows what happened,’ he said. ‘They think the Germans suspected something. It is said that the men faced huge odds; some were killed, some got away; they think some were taken prisoner. I can tell you no more than that, mademoiselle.’
Hetty felt sick and shocked, but too numbed to think of those who had died; that would come later, when she was alone. For now she
had to be practical.
‘Have the Germans been to the village? Have there been reprisals?’
‘Not here – in Stefan’s village, so I heard.’
‘Then they know that he was involved?’
‘The reprisals have fallen there, so they say – three men and a young woman were shot the following morning.’
‘A young woman?’
‘They found her at Stefan’s farm.’
‘Fleur…’ Hetty felt her stomach turn. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she held them back. She wouldn’t cry yet. Not for Fleur; not for Pierre and not for Stefan. She would not cry until she was alone…
*
The worst news came late that night. Bernard came to fetch Hetty from her bed and she went down to the kitchen in her dressing robe. Louis was sitting at the table. He had been eating bread and cheese and drinking red wine. Around his head was a bandage that had old bloodstains on it.
‘Mademoiselle ’Etty,’ he said and his eyes looked hollowed in his pale face. ‘Forgive me. I had to be careful that I was not followed or I would have been here sooner.’
‘What happened, Louis?’
‘They were waiting for us. They must have broken our codes again. We had no chance against so many.’
Hetty’s stomach churned. She had been expecting this, but it still made her feel sick. ‘How many killed?’
‘At least ten,’ Louis said. ‘Another four or five were surrounded. I think they wanted prisoners. Monsieur de Faubourg was one and Stefan another.’
‘Then they will come here,’ Hetty said. ‘If they have Pierre, they will know who he is and they will come to take their revenge on us. You must not stay, Louis. If you are taken, they will kill you.’
‘He is going to his uncle in the south,’ Bernard said. ‘He can rest for an hour or two, then he must leave.’
‘Do you have money?’
Louis shook his head.
‘I’ll get some for you. Pack him some food, Bernard – and change that bandage. The sooner you are away from here, the better, Louis. For your own sake.’
‘I have time enough. Monsieur de Faubourg will not betray us. He would sooner die.’
‘Yes.’ Hetty was white-faced and shivering. ‘But someone else may. I’ll fetch that money.’
Her grief would come later. For now she had to think about what to do when the Germans came looking for more conspirators. Once they knew who Pierre was, they were sure to pay the chateau a visit.
Ten
‘I thought I should come and tell you,’ the young officer said. ‘No doubt you had a telegram, but they never tell you anything much and I was there. I saw Drew die. The ironic thing was that we were on a ship coming home… better not say where from. But it was a U-boat that sank us.’
‘How did Drew die?’ Beth’s voice trembled as he shook his head. She curled her nails into her hands. She had long ago accepted that her husband was probably dead, but she still found the confirmation painful. ‘You are quite sure that he couldn’t have survived?’
‘Yes, quite sure. He was a good friend. I should have got him out of there somehow if I’d thought… Quite sure, Mrs Bryant.’
‘Thank you. I’ve been worrying… wondering if he suffered terribly or if he was still alive and in pain somewhere.’
‘It was very quick. He was dead before the ship went down.’
‘Thank you. That makes me feel better somehow.’ She gave him a grateful smile. ‘I’ve known he was dead for months, but they didn’t give me any details and I couldn’t quite accept it.’
‘I know the kind of thing – just missing in action?’ Beth nodded and he grimaced. ‘I do know how that feels. It happened to my mother in the last war. She kept on hoping Dad might turn up for years.’
‘What happened to you after the attack… if you don’t mind my asking?’
‘I was lucky, got picked up by a fishing vessel and taken to an island. Can’t tell you where I’m afraid. Apparently, I was off my head for weeks, and then it took me ages to sort myself out. In the end I got someone to take me to… a larger island where I was able to get a working passage on a merchant ship coming home. When I got home, I went through all the usual checks, visited my family and then came here.’
‘I’m so grateful, Captain Dawson,’ Beth said and then to her horror she started to cry. ‘I’m sorry… didn’t mean to…’
‘It was my fault,’ Jack Dawson looked at her helplessly and then put his arms around her in a hesitant, shy manner. ‘Forgive me…’
‘Oh no,’ Beth said and drew away, accepting the large, clean handkerchief he offered. ‘It wasn’t your fault at all. It was so kind of you to come. I am very grateful. Take no notice of my tears. I think it’s relief really – knowing that it’s final. And knowing what happened, that he didn’t suffer too much.’
‘Drew never knew a thing. We’d been talking – about you actually. He was looking forward to seeing you – and the baby.’
‘He must have got my letters then. I wasn’t sure.’
‘We all had a batch when they picked us up… Not allowed to say much about that. We’d had a bit of a rough time, but we were coming home and we were happy.’
‘Yes.’ Her bottom lip trembled but she clamped down on her feelings, lifting her chin. ‘Will you stay for lunch? Annabel has a treat for us today – bacon and eggs.’
‘That sounds like my kind of food,’ he said. ‘Thank you. I’d like to stay very much. They’ve given me a month’s leave and to tell you the truth I don’t know what to do with myself.’
‘You’re not married?’
‘Haven’t met the right one yet – but I’m still hoping.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you will,’ Beth said, feeling suddenly shy. ‘Come and meet my daughter.’
*
‘So Beth has accepted it at last then,’ Georgie said. She was sitting with Annabel in the shade of an apple tree drinking tea and eating the fatless sponge she had made that morning and brought with her. ‘Well, that’s a good thing I suppose.’
‘Yes, I’m sure it is. She seems better now, beginning to get over her grief and take an interest in life again. I mean she has always looked after Elaine, but outside of that she just wasn’t interested – now she seems to be. She even made herself a pretty new dress this week.’
‘Are you getting over your own grief?’ Georgie looked at her. It had been hard to bear offering Annabel sympathy over Ben’s death these past months without breaking down herself, but somehow she had managed it.
‘Yes, though I don’t think it will ever quite go away. We were twins and even though I didn’t see him as often as I would have liked these past years, he rang me all the time.’
‘Yes, he was good about telephoning,’ Georgie said and avoided Annabel’s penetrating gaze. Sometimes she thought Annabel had guessed her secret and she was tempted to tell her – but she didn’t have the right.
‘How long is it now?’ Annabel asked, glancing pointedly at Georgie’s bulge. ‘About a month?’
‘Yes, more or less.’
‘You know exactly, don’t you?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I know you, Georgie. You don’t sleep around. You must have cared very much for whoever it was.’
‘I can’t tell you, Annabel.’
‘Because he was married?’
‘Yes, something like that.’
Annabel sighed. ‘Why won’t you tell me? Surely you know you can trust me?’
‘Yes, of course I do – but someone else could be hurt if it ever came out accidentally.’
‘Someone I know?’ Annabel’s eyes widened as she guessed. Of course! She ought to have realised from the beginning. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about you and Ben? You must have known I would be on your side. Oh, Georgie, how you must have been suffering! I’ve been going on and on about what I feel and you… Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.’
‘It hasn’t been easy,’ Georgie admitted. ‘I’ve wanted to say,
but I didn’t have the right.’ Georgie sighed as she saw the look on her face. ‘Yes, I know Helen never loved him. Ben was going to ask her for a divorce when he came home – but what’s the point in talking about it now? It could only hurt his children. I don’t want to do that. Geoffrey thinks it was a brave soldier I met in London and that’s near enough. I was terrified of telling him, but Philip made me see that the longer I left it, the worse it would be. He was actually quite grown up about it, told me he quite understood that I had been lonely…’ There was a break in her voice, but she shook her head, determined not to break down.
‘Philip Rathmere? He’s the man who took over your house for the War Office, isn’t he? I saw him at Jessie’s once. A very ordinary-looking man I thought, but pleasant she says.’
‘He is ordinary, I suppose, but kind and interesting too. I’ve been able to tell him about Ben and he has helped me through this – I don’t know what I would have done without him to be honest.’ Georgie smiled, because somehow Philip had helped her through her grief in a way she wasn’t able to put into words. ‘He is a good friend.’
‘That sounds promising.’ Annabel crinkled her brow and Georgie saw the hopeful look in her eyes.
‘Now don’t start hatching your eggs before they’re laid,’ Georgie said and grimaced. ‘I like Philip. He’s pleasant to talk to and we have tea together sometimes. He tells me about his plans for after the war and I tell him what I’ve been doing, and that’s about it.’
‘What are his plans?’
‘He develops old houses; finds specialist builders to restore them – either for their owners or to sell. It’s all very informative and interesting, and something I rather enjoy. You will like him, Belle. Perhaps more importantly, Geoffrey says he’s good at cricket and is a cracking bowler – so they have something in common.’
‘Bring him to dinner.’
‘You’re matchmaking!’
‘So what? You’re my best friend. I want you to be happy.’ She reached over to touch her hand. ‘Ben wouldn’t want you to waste your life, dearest. This Philip sounds just the right sort for you.’
