your need to be close to the children - when they come.’
It was that remark, as much as anything, that was causing
Claudine so much misgiving now. As she sat on her bed on
her wedding morning, the reality of what lay ahead - and of
what she felt about it - was at last beginning to come home
to her.
She looked down at her hands, at the diamond that
glittered in the sunlight, and for a moment her feelings
engulfed her. Then suddenly she got up from the bed,
dragged the cheval mirror away from the window and
stripped off her clothes.
As she gazed at her reflection she tried to see herself
through Francois’ eyes. Tried to imagine his hands on her
breasts, his mouth seeking hers, his fingers exploring her
most intimate places. His own naked body …
She closed her eyes as the heat seared through her veins,
and as her fingers closed around her nipples the sensation
that shot through her loins snatched the breath from her
body. She clutched at the bedpost, biting her lips as she
waited for the tide of longing to subside.
How could her body betray her like this? How had this
come about when she detested and despised him? Yet,
almost from the moment when she discovered that exquisite
bedroom in the apartment upstairs, when she realized that
even after they were married she was to sleep alone, she had
known it was pointless to go on deluding herself. Ugly as he
was, cruel and malevolent as she knew he could be, she
could no longer deny that she wanted him in a way she had
never wanted any other man in her life. She desired him
with every fibre of her body, and had done almost from the
moment she met him.
She threw back her head and looked up at the ceiling,
wanting, but not daring, to scream. Why, dear God, when
he so plainly did not want her, did she want him so much?
Suddenly she froze as she heard his voice outside, calling
to Lucien. Then hearing him laugh, it was as if all her
resolve garnered in a towering surge of defiance; when she
looked back at herself in the mirror, her eyes were hard and
shining.
‘Today,’ she whispered to her reflection, ‘you are going to
marry him. And after that, only you can see to it that he
becomes the husband you want him to be. Your desires
need not be a weakness, they can be a strength if you learn to
use them correctly. And he will want you, one day he will
want you every bit as much as you want him.’
She ran her hands down over her hips, then slipped her
fingers into the moistness between her legs, and a cry
With her eyes still closed, Claudine merely raised her
eyebrows and said, ‘I don’t know, but they didn’t.’
Dissy stared at her. The absence of bridesmaids wasn’t
the only thing that struck her as odd about Claudine’s
wedding. What worried her most was that ever since she’d
arrived she had been aware of a change in Claudine herself,
which as the week progressed she had no longer been able
to dismiss as pre-wedding nerves. And surely it was strange
that Claudine had said almost nothing about Francois when
Dissy had expected her to be talking of nothing else,
confiding all the details of the proposal, declaring her
undying love. Then there had been the mysterious absence
of the bridegroom. Apparently he had been at the chateau
just prior to her arrival, but he had then been called to Paris
on urgent business which had kept him there until two days
before the wedding.
Oddest of all, perhaps, had been Monique’s interrogation.
Two days ago, while Claudine was in Chinon meeting
Francois from the train so that they could register their
marriage at the town hall, Monique had taken her for a walk
in the woods, where she had proceeded to ask all manner of
questions about the way Claudine and Francois felt about
each other! If the bridegroom’s sister is in the dark about
their relationship, Dissy had thought, who does know what’s
going on? Then, she and Monique had talked about Freddy.
Dissy had found Monique’s interest rather surprising - she
must be at least five years older than Freddy, perhaps more.
But it was when she and Monique returned from their
walk that Dissy had received the biggest shock of all. The
man waiting there on the steps of the chateau to greet her,
Monique proudly informed her, was none other than the
future Comte de Rassey de Lorvoire.
Dissy was ashamed now at the way she had stopped dead
in her tracks and her mouth had actually fallen open. But he
was so ugly, and so … Well, so big, standing there beside
her lovely Claudine. His hand, when he held it out, had
made Dissy shudder, but that was nothing to what she had
felt when she looked into his eyes… She’d hardly slept a
wink that night, and even Poppy had confessed to finding
the man a trifle unusual.
However, Claudine had done nothing to invite any
comment about her fiance, nor had she expressed any doubt
about what she was doing. ‘In which case,’ Poppy had said
only that morning, ‘it would be singularly inappropriate for
you to mention your own doubts, Dissy. As we all know,
Beavis has done nothing to pressure her into this marriage,
so we can only conclude that this is what Claudine wants.’
‘But is it what Francois wants?’ Dissy said. ‘He doesn’t
love her, Poppy, I know he doesn’t. I can see it in his eyes
when he looks at her. If anything, he despises her. And
surely she can see it too?’
But if she could, Claudine was saying nothing. And at
three o’clock that afternoon Dissy stood amongst the two
hundred guests in the Royal Abbey of Fontevraud and
watched her best friend, in a dress to make even a royal
wedding gown look dowdy, walk down the aisle on the arm
of her father, to a man who was as unsightly as his brother standing
beside him in full dress uniform - was handsome.
As they knelt side by side before the priest, Claudine was
shaking. She had no idea what she was feeling, she simply
listened as the priest’s guttural chant echoed solemnly
through the abbey and her own heart thudded in her ears.
Then Francois’ hand was on her elbow, helping her to her
feet, and the priest was whispering to her to remove her veil.
She didn’t look at Francois as she did so, but kept her eyes
fixed on the priest while Francois repeated the marriage
vows in a warm, gentle voice that belonged to a man she
didn’t know… Then it was time for her to pledge her troth.
A shadow fell over her face, and there was the briefest
touch of lips against hers. After that she remembered
nothing until the organ suddenly started to play and they
were walking back down the aisle.
They returned to the chateau in Louis’ open-topped
Bugatti. Marcel drove slowly, so that Claudine could wave
to the people who lined the cobbled streets of the villages
along the way - Fontevraud, Candes St Martin, St
Germain-sur-Vienne - as they called out their good wishes.
Beside her, Francois made no attempt to disguise his
loathing of such a display. His discomfort was ridiculous,
she thought, and she laughed - but even the sound of her
own laughter did nothing to dispel the strange feeling of
displacement.
When all the guests had returned, they sat down to the
twelve-course wedding feast in the lavishly decorated
ballroom of the Chateau de Lorvoire. Almost every noble
family in France was represented, and several members of
the English aristocracy were there too. Claudine sipped her
champagne and laughed as everyone drank the bride’s
health, then the bridegroom’s, then quite spontaneously,
Solange’s. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she pushed
away the oysters, then the smoked salmon, the turbot, the grives aux raisins. When someone called to her, she answered, her eyes dazzling in their beauty and her lips
never far from laughter. Beside her Francois had his back
half-turned as he conversed with her father — but Claudine
barely noticed.
At seven o’clock the ballroom was cleared and the
dancing began. There was much hilarity when Poppy took
over the piano and the band picked up the rhythm of the
Lambeth Walk, a dance from a London musical, while
Dissy taught everyone the steps. Like a child who never
tires of the same story, Solange insisted they play it over
and over again, until Louis had a quiet word with the band
leader, then tangoed his wife off across the floor. Lucien
took Claudine, and soon the whole room was a mass of
gaily twirling bodies and grandly stamping feet. Claudine
danced for what seemed an eternity, moving with the music
from a fox-trot to a quick-step, from a rumba to a waltz,
changing partners with such frequency that in the end she
laughingly pleaded exhaustion, and taking Solange by the
hand, started to wander round the room talking to guests.
Francois remained on the edge of the proceedings,
shaking hands where he had to, but mainly engrossed in
what Beavis and his father were saying. One subject
preoccupied them: the increasing probability of war.
Francois was listening intently; as a British diplomat and a
close friend of Neville Chamberlain, Beavis was naturally
well-informed, and since the collapse of Leon Blum’s
government in June and the rise to power of his father’s old
friend Camille Chautemps, there was much to discuss.
Eventually, aware that Celine was watching him, and
knowing that on this occasion he must do what was expected
of him, he excused himself and made his way over to
Claudine.
She was standing in the middle of a group, laughing at
something Lucien was saying, but when they saw him
coming the crowd parted to let him through. As everyone
around her fell silent, Claudine turned, and when she saw
her husband she cocked her head on one side and placed a
hand on her hip.
‘Would you care to dance?’ Francois said, fixing her with
his eyes in a way that seemed to banish the presence of those
around her.
‘I should be delighted,’ she said, and taking the hand he
held out to her, she allowed him to lead her to the middle of
the floor.
The band, who had been waiting for this moment,
smoothly brought the piece they were playing to an end and
started an instrumental version of ‘The Very Thought Of
You’. It was one of Claudine’s favourite songs, and as the
other dancers cleared the floor and Francois pulled her into
his arms, she wondered if he knew the words. But if he did,
he gave no sign, and she wasn’t sure whether she was sorry
or glad.
‘It is unusual, I know, for the bride and groom to have the
last dance,’ he said, as he led her through her paces, ‘but
then ours is an unusual alliance, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘The last dance?’ she echoed.
He nodded. ‘Unless you’re intending to leave in your
wedding gown, it is time you went upstairs to change.’
Trying not to mind that he had passed no comment on
her dress, with its waterfalls of lace, flowing taffeta skirts
and pearl-studded silk bodice, she said, ‘How long do I
have?’
‘As long as you like. But I’d prefer to arrive at Poitiers
before midnight.’
‘Poitiers?’
‘We are spending the night at an hotel there. Did I forget
to tell you? My apologies.’
She looked away as she suddenly became aware of his
hand in the small of her back. ‘Will you be driving us?’ she
enquired, in a voice that wasn’t quite steady.
‘Unless you have a notion to do so,’ he answered.
‘However, if you continue to tremble the way you are now, I
wouldn’t advise it.’
Her eyes shot to his, but there was no humour in his face;
if anything, he seemed bored.
‘I’ll go upstairs to change,’ she said, and turning abruptly,
she walked from the dance floor.
An hour later, followed by Celine, Solange, Monique and
Dissy, Claudine walked down the grand staircase and into
the hall. She was wearing a navy Mainbocher suit with a
cerise silk blouse and navy wedged shoes. Magaly had redressed
her hair, which was now rolled in a snood under her
navy and cerise hat. In the distance she could hear the
sounds of the party, which she knew would continue into the small hours of the morning. For one fleeting moment she wished with all her heart that she could stay.
The others were fussing around her, offering her all the
advice traditionally given to brides for the first night of their
honeymoon. Solange, as usual, was outrageous - but for
once Claudine wasn’t laughing. She was staring past them
to where Francois stood at the door with Lucien, Beavis and
Louis. He too had changed out of his wedding clothes; now
he was wearing a dark double-breasted suit and a black
trilby hat.
Her eyes closed for a brief moment, then pulling herself
together, she walked towards him. ‘I’m ready,’ she said in a