by Rosie Clarke
For weeks she had lived in dread of a visit from the Germans, sure that they would come to wreak havoc on them in revenge for what Pierre had tried to do, but they had not come. No reprisals had taken place at the chateau, only at Stefan’s home village.
She tasted the bitterness of betrayal on her tongue as she looked at Louis, knowing that he too had felt the horror and bitterness of this, perhaps even more keenly since he had trusted and respected the master of the chateau.
‘How do you know this?’
‘My cousin Marie worked at the German hospital as a cleaner. She saw Monsieur de Faubourg brought in, recognised him from a visit to the chateau before the war – and she heard things. She had wanted to help him escape if she could, but what she heard frightened her and she told no one until I started to brag of his brave death – and then she confessed to me. At first I denied her, but then she told me exactly what she’d heard, names, places, dates. They wanted Stefan’s group totally wiped out. He had been too successful – he was blamed for everything, even the train we blew up at the start.’
‘Yes.’ Hetty was thoughtful. ‘The Germans were not to know that there were once two groups operating here. It would have suited Pierre to keep it that way. He had his reasons for protecting the chateau.’
‘The cellars,’ Louis said. ‘Yes, we know of them, mademoiselle, but we are loyal to the family. In times past, they have given us work, protected us.’
She nodded, understanding the kind of loyalty that ran in old and respected families. Bernard and Louis felt themselves to belong at the chateau. Pierre had relied on that loyalty, which would have been destroyed had he been suspected of collaborating with the Germans. He had planned his own death – and after the war, what then? Monsieur de Faubourg could not return, but the lawyers knew what to do.
The treasure would be sold and the money placed in an account in the name of the person named in the documents held by Pierre’s lawyers – Pierre under another name perhaps? No doubt it was all properly signed and sealed, the Comtesse as much a dupe of his machinations as everyone else. She had believed in him implicitly and would have signed anything he asked of her, based all her hopes for his future. Oh yes, it was all arranged very neatly and Hetty was to be the go-between, to make sure that things went according to plan.
He had used her. His talk of marriage had been for the purpose of securing her loyalty. If she had married him, would she ever have known the truth? Would he have come back for her? She doubted it. Pierre had intended to abandon the chateau and its responsibilities in favour of the freedom his money would buy him.
‘Who else knows of this?’
‘Grand-père. I have told no one else. It was hard to believe, mademoiselle. I did not want to believe at first. When my cousin told me, I went out into the yard to vomit. I could not face anyone. If I had seen Monsieur de Faubourg, I should have killed him.’
Hetty saw the anger and grief in his face, the pain of betrayal. If Pierre ever returned to the chateau he would face retribution. She understood Louis’ bitterness, the frustration of knowing that his grandfather disbelieved him, but there was nothing she could do to ease the hurt.
‘Stefan should know. He will tell you what to do.’
‘Yes.’ Louis met her thoughtful gaze. ‘I believed you ought to know the truth, but I am going to join Stefan – and I shall tell him everything.’
‘Yes,’ Hetty agreed. ‘Make sure you tell him everything, Louis. Stefan will know what should be done.’
*
Beth turned and snuggled up to Arnold in the warmth of his bed. She had just woken and the pleasure of feeling him lying beside her was so strong in her that she couldn’t resist kissing him even though he was still sleeping.
They had made love for the first time the previous night and it had been good between them, so good that Beth had felt a little guilty. Remembering Drew’s embarrassed fondling, she hadn’t known what to expect, but it had all been so natural and right that she’d responded in a way she never had for Drew.
Amazing as it was, she knew now that she was in love with Arnold. It had probably happened after Drew went abroad, but she hadn’t realised it. She’d been grateful to him for his kindness and care of her when she was carrying her child, but she hadn’t understood what was happening between them.
Perhaps it would never have developed if Drew had come back, but Beth wasn’t sure. Her feelings for Arnold were stronger, more mature than her youthful infatuation with Drew. She suspected that perhaps first love was often like that, especially for a quiet girl without much experience. Drew had simply swept her off her feet, but the attraction to Arnold had happened more slowly.
Perhaps it was all the sweeter for that. Beth smiled as Arnold opened his eyes and looked at her.
‘Good morning, my love,’ he murmured huskily. ‘Am I right in suspecting that you are intending to have your wicked way with me again? If so, I must tell you that I think you should make an honest man of me. I am not accustomed to finding wanton women in my bed at this hour.’
‘Oh Arnold,’ Beth said and pressed herself closer. ‘Do you know, I could quite enjoy being wanton with you at any hour.’
‘You tempt me, lovely lady – but I have work to do. I must love you and leave you.’
‘As long as you love me first.’
‘If you insist,’ he murmured and pulled her hard against him so that she could feel the throbbing heat of his arousal against her thigh. ‘Oh Beth, my darling, I’ve wanted you so much. When will you marry me?’
‘In July as we planned. I cheated Annabel of a wedding last time. I won’t disappoint her again – but I may have to stay in town every so often before then. I shall need to buy a few clothes and… I dare say I can think of an excuse to come up.’
Arnold laughed and kissed her. ‘Knowing you, I dare say you will.’
*
It was very warm; this summer was even hotter than the last, Hetty thought as she straightened her back. She had been working in the kitchen garden at the chateau all afternoon and what she wanted most now was a long soak in a nice cool bath.
‘Mademoiselle ’Etty…’ a young maid came running up the path towards her. ‘Bernard says you must come now!’
‘What is wrong?’ Hetty’s stomach clenched. ‘Is it the Comtesse? Is she worse?’
‘The Germans are coming here,’ Giselle said, her face pale with fright. ‘They came from the village to tell us.’
‘But why?’ Hetty stared at her. So many months had passed peacefully that she had thought they were safe. ‘Why should they come now?’
‘There was talk of treasure,’ Giselle said. ‘The Germans want it and they are coming to find it. What will happen to us, mademoiselle?’
The girl was very young and very frightened.
‘You will stay in the kitchen with Bernard and the others, and say nothing,’ Hetty told her kindly. ‘Give them no reason to notice you, Giselle, and they will not bother you. I shall meet them and talk to them myself.’
She lifted her head, walking slowly into the house. She would not have time for the leisurely bath she had planned, but she would be clean and dressed suitably when they came.
*
‘I shall come with you to meet them,’ Adele said when Hetty went to her room and told her what was about to happen. ‘We shall face them together.’
‘There is no need for you to tire yourself, Adele.’ Hetty looked at her anxiously. She was failing day by day, her strength leaving her little by little. Soon she would need help to wash and dress and to feed herself. It was a sad time for those who loved her and remembered what she had been. ‘Stay here. If I have my way, they will not harm us.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I shall give them what they want.’
‘The treasure…’ Adele was silent for a moment, and then she nodded wearily. ‘Yes, you must give it to them. It is not worth the lives of our people. Let them take it and go. Perhaps then they may leave us
in peace.’
‘I shall do my best, Adele. Rest now and leave them to me.’
‘Yes, perhaps you are right.’
Hetty bent to kiss her withered cheek. When General Von Steinbeck had come to the chateau, things had been so different. Adele had been strong then. She had had her grandson to give her hope. Now she believed him dead, and with him had died her hope, taking her strength and leaving her only memories.
Hetty had kept Louis’ revelations to herself. No good would come of destroying Adele’s pride. She believed that Pierre had died a hero, let her go to her grave believing it. If Hetty could do nothing more, she would do that for her.
Leaving Adele to rest, albeit it uneasily, Hetty went down to wait for their visitors.
*
They did not arrive quietly as General Von Steinbeck had but in full force: a convoy of trucks, soldiers and two officers in an armoured car. Immediately, the tranquil old courtyard was filled with noise: shouting, running feet, the backfiring of an armoured car, and the noise of heavy vehicles sending the doves rustling into the trees as the peace was shattered.
And then they were bursting into the house, their heavy feet trampling over the beautiful marble tiles, clattering, harsh and out of place, shattering the peace of the ancient house; rifles at the ready, their strident voices were demanding, shouting as if expecting to be met with resistance.
Instead, Hetty stood alone at the foot of the imposing staircase. She had banished everyone else to the kitchen, telling them to keep out of the way and respond meekly to any orders they might be given. She didn’t allow so much as a muscle to flinch as the guns were trained on her, a slender, proud figure, defiant yet unresisting. Inside, her stomach might be tying itself into knots, her palms damp with sweat, but outwardly she showed not a flicker of emotion.
‘You would be unwise to kill me just yet,’ she said. ‘You might not find what you seek.’
An officer came through his men. He was young, eager, his eyes bright with greed. ‘You know why we are here?’
‘You have heard that we have a fortune hidden in the cellars?’
‘I know it exists. I was there…’ A second officer, older than the first pushed his way past the others. ‘And who are you, mademoiselle?
‘Marguerite. Comtesse de Faubourg’s niece.’
‘Where is the Comtesse?’
‘She is ill and resting in her room. I have come to meet you in her stead.’
‘Are there no others here – no more family?’
‘Only servants. I beg you not to harm them. They have done nothing to deserve this… intrusion.’
‘We have orders to search for and confiscate the treasure. It belongs to Germany as the spoils of war.’
‘I thought France was at peace with your country?’ Hetty’s eyes glittered as she looked at him, her anger simmering. A part of her wanted to fly at him, to rent his face with her nails and spit her defiance, but the saner, wiser part of her mind cautioned her to be careful.
‘Hold your tongue, bitch,’ the younger officer said. ‘Otherwise I shall teach you to respect your betters.’
‘Leave her alone, Hans. We don’t have time for this.’ The older man unbuttoned the gun holster at his waist. ‘Show us where the treasure is stored or I might be forced to use this.’
‘I shall show you the cellars,’ Hetty said. ‘I do not know what you may find there. Only Monsieur de Faubourg knew the secret – and you killed him, didn’t you?’
Something in his eyes glittered and she knew that Louis had been right to believe everything his cousin had told him. This man knew of the bargain made with Pierre, but he also knew of the treasure and he wanted it, not for his country as he claimed but for himself. That was why most of the German soldiers had been left outside.
‘Lie to me and it will go hard with you.’
‘Please follow me. The entrance is in the old part of the chateau. We do not use it. I should warn you that it would be unwise to shout or use your guns there; the ceiling is unsafe and might come crashing down.’
‘Be careful, bitch. You had better not lie to us!’
Hetty’s eyes flashed blue-green fire, but she held her tongue. She saw no point in antagonising them any more than need be. Besides, why should she protect a fortune for a man who had betrayed them? Let them take it and good riddance!
Hetty’s anger kept her fear at bay as she walked just ahead of the officers and the small group of men they had chosen to accompany them. Let them do their worst. She had no choice but to obey. Hopefully, when they saw Pierre’s hoard of art and antiques, their greed would take over and they would forget about her. They would take what they wanted and go, leaving them to continue their lives in peace.
Hetty led them down the steps to the first cellar as Pierre had taken her when she came to the chateau so many months ago. It contained only old crates and vats long discarded and covered in dust. Rats scuttled as they approached, disappearing into their hiding places. She could hear the officers muttering in disgust but smiled inwardly; they would soon change their tune.
She found the rusty iron lever that controlled the mechanism; one sharp tug set the wall sliding back with a grinding noise that made her clench her teeth. Beyond the wall that slowly opened was a passage that led to a series of caves. Champagne had once been stored there because they were cool and dry, but now they contained Pierre’s treasure – the treasure he had thought it worthwhile betraying his own people to keep safe.
‘I have been no further,’ Hetty lied. ‘What you find there is unknown to me.’
‘Go ahead of us!’ the younger officer pointed his pistol at her as if he feared a trap.
She felt a shiver of fear as she stepped into the passage. He was a man who hated women, she could see the contempt in his eyes, feel his hatred. It was cold and frightening to be here with these men, particularly the younger of the two, and she wondered if the caves might become her tomb.
Her heart beating wildly, Hetty led them to the first cave. She remembered that it had been filled with crates, which Pierre had told her contained valuable pictures. Nothing remained; Hetty was puzzled. She couldn’t have made a mistake; the crates had been here – so what had happened to them? She’d believed that Pierre had meant to return after the war, but perhaps he had been too impatient. Whatever had been done had been done in secret and she had known nothing of it.
She walked on to the second cave, which had contained more crates containing antique bronzes and precious artefacts, including Sèvres porcelain and silver candlesticks. Again there was nothing to be seen except a few pieces of broken wood.
In the third cave, there were two crates remaining. The officers gestured to the soldiers, who broke them open with iron crowbars. One contained items of silver, the other pictures, though they seemed to be watercolours and not the valuable oils Pierre had told her were in the first cave.
‘This is all?’ the younger officer grunted, clearly disappointed. His finger moved on the trigger of his gun, clearly threatening, his eyes filled with malice. She knew that he would have killed her with less compunction than she might a fly, but his mind was still on the treasure he believed hidden somewhere in the chateau. ‘You’ve hidden it somewhere else, bitch. Tell me or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born!’
‘There may have been more once,’ Hetty said. Her stomach clenched as his eyes narrowed and she knew that she could die at any moment. ‘But the family has fallen on hard times. You have only to look at the state of the rooms through which we passed. I have no knowledge of anything beyond what you see.’
‘Take these,’ the older officer instructed the soldiers. ‘Then we’ll search the rest of the house. Strip it of anything worth having.’
‘Please – you cannot take everything. How shall we live?’
‘Why should we care? You can starve and good riddance!’
Hetty’s eyes stung with unshed tears. She had hoped to save the chateau from the wanton destruction she’d see
n at Stefan’s farm, but she knew these men were ruthless. They were not satisfied with two small crates. They would take everything.
The older officer turned, directing his men to carry the crates out to the waiting lorries. He noticed that the younger man was lingering and looked at him, a sudden leer on his thick lips.
‘All right, Hans, she’s yours now if you want her – but don’t be too long about it. There isn’t much time. I shan’t wait if you aren’t there when I’m ready to leave.’
‘She won’t take much time,’ the younger man said, his expression derisory as he looked at Hetty. She shivered as she saw the way his eyes gleamed, knew him for the man he was and knew what was in his mind, the pleasure he would take from humiliating and hurting her. He was going to kill her, but he was going to have his sport first. ‘So, bitch, I get to have you to myself after all…’
Hetty listened to the sounds of the soldiers’ feet dying away. Her heart was racing and she felt sick. He was gloating, anticipating his triumph over her. She took a step backwards as he reached out for her. She wasn’t going to give in without a struggle; she would fight tooth and nail, even if it cost her more pain. Looking about her for a weapon, she saw that one of the soldiers had left his crowbar. If she could just get to that she might have a chance. But he had seen the direction of her gaze and moved deliberately between her and the weapon.
‘Oh no, I don’t think so,’ he said grinning at her. ‘I’m going to teach you a little lesson, bitch.’
‘You couldn’t teach me anything,’ Hetty said, anger making her forget to be afraid. She laughed in his face, head up, eyes flashing with pride. ‘I’ve known real men – and you are but a poor excuse for one.’
The insult stung, as she’d known it would. He rushed at her, catching her arm as she tried to dodge past him and swinging her round. With his other hand, he slapped her so hard across the face that her ears rang. She spat in his face and brought the heel of her court shoe down hard against his ankle. Dragging one arm free, she raked at his face with her nails, bringing blood to the surface. He swore but didn’t let her go. Instead, he hit her again and again across the face and she tasted blood on her mouth. Then he forced her up against the wall and started to grope at her skirt. Struggling, Hetty was vaguely aware that there was someone behind him. Had one of the soldiers come back to help him out? Would they take turns in raping her? There was nothing she could do to stop them.
