to fret.’
‘I could always,’ Claudine said, as they rounded the top of
the hill and started the descent to the car, ‘ask Tante Celine
about Hortense. Or any other hostess in Paris, come to
that.’
‘Yes, you could,’ he acknowledged, ‘but I think you know
as well as I do that you won’t discover the truth from them.’
Claudine was silent then, and by the time they rounded
the bend in the drive leading to the chateau - rather more
sedately than they had driven down it, since Lucien was now
behind the wheel - she was so deep in thought that she
didn’t notice the large black Citroen parked outside the
door until Lucien pulled alongside it and casually remarked
that Francois had returned.
Her immediate impulse was to leap into the driving seat
and speed off into the sunset, but she somehow managed to
control herself, and walked round the car with studied calm.
‘Aren’t you coming inside?’ Lucien said.
‘I don’t think so,’ she answered casually, getting into the
driving seat and slamming the door. ‘Tante Celine will be
wondering what’s happened to me.’
‘You can always telephone.’
Realizing he was teasing her, she poked out her tongue.
Then, leaning forward to restart the engine, her hand
suddenly froze. She knew, even before she lifted her head, that he was there. She looked up, aware of the pulsating heat in her chest. He was standing on the steps of the chateau,
watching her. He seemed immense in the long, dark coat
that hung from his shoulders, and even at a distance the scar
on his face appeared livid and menacing. The smile faded
from her lips, and she was profoundly glad she was sitting
down, for every muscle in her body seemed to have turned
to jelly. Then, to her relief, Lucien was bounding up the
steps to greet his brother, slapping him on the back and
calling him all manner of insulting names.
By the time Francois turned back to her, Claudine was
fully in control of herself, and stepping as majestically as she
could from the car, she walked towards the brothers and
held out her hand to Francois.
Taking it, he said, ‘It is a pleasure to see you again.’
Biting hard on the sarcasm that was longing to spring
from her lips, she smiled and said, ‘Thank you. I trust your
stay in Paris was a pleasant one?’
‘Moderately so.’
His apparent indifference to the silence that followed,
coupled with his pointed failure to invite her inside,
inflamed her temper so that her cheeks started to burn with
it. ‘As I am clearly no longer welcome, perhaps I had better
go,’ she said - and immediately regretted the peevish
resentment in her voice.
‘Perhaps Lucien would like to see you back to your car.’
Francois nodded to his brother, then turned on his heel and
started back up the steps to the chateau.
‘Francois!’ As he turned, she thought she caught a flicker
of amusement pass between the brothers, but she was too
angry to care. ‘I would like you to see me to my car, if it’s not
too much trouble,’ she snapped.
Sensing that his presence was no longer required, Lucien
disappeared inside the chateau while, stuffing his hands into
his trouser pockets, Francois strolled lazily back down the
steps. He stood in front of her, gazing down into her eyes.
‘You have every right to expect an apology for my lack of
communication this week,’ he said, surprising her so much
that she actually jumped. ‘And naturally, I do apologize. It is
my intention to call on you first thing tomorrow, so that
perhaps we may get to know one another a little better. As
for my manners, I hope you will find them a little less
offensive than when we last met. For that I apologize also.’
‘And for the way you snubbed me a moment ago?’
His austere face became even more unsightly as he drew
his heavy brows together. ‘Again, I must ask your forgiveness.
But you seemed so relaxed in my brother’s company,
and so appalled when you saw me, that I have to confess I
was jealous. Childish of me, I know, but there it is.’
‘You are a liar!’ she declared. ‘You couldn’t give a damn
… Where are you taking me?’ she demanded, as he slipped
a hand under her arm and started to walk her away from the
chateau.
‘To your car, of course,’ he answered.
‘Don’t patronize me!’ she shouted, wrenching herself
from his grip.
‘Am I to spend the entire afternoon apologizing,
Claudine?’
She wanted to sting him with words, to kick him even, but
his use of her name had a sudden, deeply disturbing effect
on her, and for a moment she was powerless.
‘Let me tell you,’ he said, as he opened her car door. ‘You
are every bit as beautiful with your hair spilling about your
face like that, and with no make-up and no stockings on, as
you were the first time I met you. So you are wrong to say I
couldn’t give a damn. I would have to be either insensate or
dead to remain impervious to you.’
She was so stunned that she could do nothing more than
slide speechlessly into her car.
‘I will send the chauffeur to collect you at Montvisse
tomorrow. We shall take out the horses. You do ride, I take
it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would eight o’clock be too early?’
‘No.’
‘Then I shall look forward to the pleasure of your
company.’
Dumbly she started the engine as he walked away.
‘Francois,’ she called, as he started to mount the steps.
He turned back, the thick line of his brows raised in mild
irritation.
‘Thank you for the compliment.’
‘It was nothing.’
And it wasn’t until she reached the end of the drive that
she realized that that was precisely what he meant.
Francois found Lucien in the dining-room, helping himself
to fruit from the generous bowl on the huge mahogany table.
The long windows at the far end of the room looked out over
the steep meadow at the front of the chateau, and in the
distance, through the trees, he could see Claudine’s car as
she drove along the forest road towards Chinon. Charolais
cows were grazing in the shade of the forest, and two
gardeners marched back and forth across the bank, cutting
the grass.
The dining-room was a large room, but the wood
panelled walls, frescoed ceiling and worn rococo furniture
gave it a feeling of intimacy, as did the paintings depicting
scenes from the de Rassey de Lorvoire military past, and the
crumbling stone fireplace, which at this time of year was
regularly filled with fresh flowers. It was the room where the
family took all their meals, including breakfast, and Lucien
and Francois often came here to talk.
‘So,’ Francois said, closing the door behind him, ‘I am
glad to see you looking so well, Lucien.’ He sat on one of the
high-backed dining chairs and stretched out his long legs to
rest his feet on the table. ‘What brings you home?’ he
enquired, as he reached out to pull a grape from the bunch
closest to him. ‘If my information serves me correctly, the
Spanish war is far from over.’
‘Your information is correct. The Basque country is
having a pretty rough time of it just now.’ Lucien shrugged,
then bit into an apple. ‘The Nationalists will win, of
course.’
‘Of course.’
‘Don’t you care?’
‘The only thing that concerns me is that my brother might
lose his life fighting on the losing side.’
‘But it would be all right for me to die if I were on the
winning side?’
‘Lucien, if you are asking for my permission to die, then I
withhold it, unconditionally.’
‘Then, to oblige you, monfrere, I shall do my best to stay
alive. But the fight continues, and I shall remain on the side
of those whose cause I judge to be worthy.’
‘Very commendable. And if France should need you?’
‘Then of course it would be my patriotic duty to return to
my regiment.’
‘A soldier and a patriot. You put me to shame, Lucien.’
At that Lucien gave a shout of laughter. ‘Shame! You
don’t know the meaning of the word, Francois. But tell me,
do you think France will have need of its army?’
‘If you’re asking me whether there will be a war in
Europe, then how could I possibly know?’
‘Because, Francois, you know everything. And you have
been seen only this week at both the Elysee Palace and the
Foreign Office.’
‘From both of which I obtained some satisfactory orders
for our wine.’
Lucien grinned. Francois always had been a difficult
person to hold a straightforward conversation with, but he
had always enjoyed their verbal sparring sessions. ‘And no
doubt a wealth of information the Germans would kill for,’
he remarked mildly.
Francois raised his eyebrows, then popped another grape
into his mouth. ‘I don’t know where you get such notions,
Lucien. Who in their right mind is going to give such
information to the proprietor of a vineyard? And even if they
should, what on earth could I be expected to do with it?’
‘Oh, I’m sure you’d find something, Francois. Now, is
there going to be a war?’
‘Some say so, yes. But perhaps not for a year or two.
Hitler isn’t quite ready for us yet.’
‘So we are just going to sit and wait for him?’
‘Would you prefer that France declared war? I can assure
you, she would be extremely foolish to do so. Apart from
anything else, she is quite unprepared.’
Lucien thought about that for a while, then said, ‘Her
defence is shaping up.’
Francois shifted in his chair. ‘If you are referring to our
new ministry and its plans for the extension of the Maginot
Line, I can tell you that Hitler and Goering make jokes at
the dinner table about it. And so, might I add, do certain
Frenchmen.’
‘You being one of them?’
‘In the right company, yes. After all, it is quite amusing
when you consider that as long ago as ‘34 it was known that
Germany had ninety-three flights of first-line aircraft fourteen
hundred planes. How many do you suppose they
have now? More to the point, how many do you suppose we have?’
‘Do you really hold your own country in such contempt,
Francois?’ Lucien said, taking a last bite from his apple
before pitching it into the coal-scuttle.
‘It is difficult not to when there are so many dunderheads
running it.’
‘And if France does go to war, will you fight?’
‘I shall do everything in my power to avoid it. So I’m
afraid, mon frere, that preserving the military honour and
glory of the family name is up to you.’
‘As the continuance of the family name is up to you?’
Lucien countered.
Francois held his eyes for a moment, then looking away,
he plucked another grape and rolled it between his fingers.
At last he said in a low voice, ‘You have brought the information?’
Lucien nodded.
Francois’ eyes were gleaming as he threw the grape into
his mouth and heaved himself to his feet. ‘You trusted no
one else to bring it?’
‘It wasn’t a matter of trust. In the wrong hands that
information could be lethal -I couldn’t, wouldn’t ask anyone
else to risk his life for it. Not when I have no idea what you
intend to do with it.’
‘I don’t ask questions, Lucien, and neither should you.’
They both turned as the door in the far corner opened
and Fabienne, one of the young kitchen-maids, came in.
‘Oh, messieurs? she said, obviously startled to see them
there. ‘I am sorry, I shall go away.’ She started to turn, but
then remembering why she had come, said, ‘I must set the
table for dinner, messieurs.’
‘We were just leaving,’ Lucien smiled, allowing his eyes
to linger on the firm breasts straining against the thin cotton
of her uniform.
With cold detachment, Francois watched the agonized
lust that burned in Fabienne’s eyes as she too allowed her
gaze to wander over Lucien’s handsome body. Francois had
seen his brother provoke such a reaction in countless
women; once it had amused him, now it merely bored him.
‘If you’re going to put the silly wretch out of her misery,’
he told his brother when Fabienne had left them, ‘might I
suggest you take her to your room this time? Papa tells me
Jean-Paul has still not recovered from last time, when he
found you in such a compromising position with whateverher-name-was.’
‘Carlotta. And I can assure you, Francois, Jean-Paul’s
embarrassment was nothing compared to mine. After all,
what sort of fellow is it that enjoys being found with his
trousers about his knees?’
‘And what sort of fellow is it, Lucien, that seduces
kitchen-maids in the pantry?’
‘One who was dragged there in the first place!’
Francois laughed, and placing a hand on his brother’s
shoulder, said, ‘I’m going to spend an hour with Papa before
dinner, and you strike me as though you might benefit from
a cold bath.’