handsome and the other so appallingly ugly? And why was it
that she felt so drawn to Francois, when …
Quickly she pulled herself together, reminding herself
that she hated him. But then he laughed at something
Lucien was saying, and she felt horribly lightheaded again
and started to sway. She blinked, trying to bring his face
back into focus, but it only seemed to make her worse. For a
moment everything went black, and as if from a great
distance she heard Francois saying, ‘It’s all right, I’ll see to
her,’ and she was suddenly aware that she was in his arms
and he was carrying her towards the stairs.
That night she dreamt that he was holding her and
kissing her. That his cruel mouth was soft and warm and moving tenderly over hers. Each time he pulled away, she moaned softly at the way his eyes were looking down at her,
suffused with laughter and love, and she pulled him back,
wanting to feel his lips on hers again, and the hardness of his
body as his passion grew. She shivered as his hands moved
to her breasts, stroking and fondling them, then his lips
closed around her nipples and she fell back, dazed by the
overpowering sensations coursing through her. Then finally
he lay over her and pushed himself slowly inside her.
She cried out at the ecstasy of it, lifting her hips to meet
his while his tongue probed the depths of her mouth. He
moved against her, holding her close, and she clung to him,
gripping him with her legs and her arms as he started to
push into her with longer, harder strokes. His breath was
coming quicker, and the sound of it inflamed her senses and
carried her towards a peak of impossible sensation. She
arched her back, calling out his name as he took her higher
and higher. Then, at the very moment the ecstasy started to
explode through her body, he jerked himself away.
She woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed. All she
could see was his hideous face, only inches from hers,
looking back at her with contempt. She gasped, blinked
hard, and the illusion vanished. Sweat was pouring from her
body and her hands, as she lifted them to her face, were
trembling uncontrollably. It was some time before she could
bring herself to look at the bed beside her, terrified that she
would find him watching her, but when she finally reached
out to turn on the lamp she saw that the room was empty,
and there was no sign that he had been mere.
She collapsed against the pillows. So it had been a dream,
a terrible nightmare, but her body was still pounding with
the sheer power of it.
After that she couldn’t sleep, and lay awake embroiled in
the chaos of her thoughts. It made her angry and afraid that
her body could betray her so cruelly, that even when she was
asleep he could torment her. His malice pursued her,
forcing her to relive, over and over again, the way he so
sadistically denied her the final release of pleasure. Wherever she looked she could see his face, watching her, mocking her, drowning her in the contempt he felt for her.
Just after six the next morning Claudine, Armand and
Lucien mounted their horses and rode down over the
meadow into the early morning mist of the forest. The air
was bracing, and the branches that hung across their path
sparkled with dew. They walked the horses to the towpath,
then cantered gently along the river bank where the water
was still and glassy, with a smoky haze drifting above the
surface. Claudine was riding ahead, and surprised the!
others by turning her horse away from the path, around the edge of the forest to open ground, and urging it gently up the hill. By the time she reached the top, the sun was a glowing ball of orange sitting on the horizon, and as she looked down at the forest behind her she could see the glistening turrets of the chateau rising proudly through the
trees.
Seeing the open countryside had made her horse restless,
so glancing challengingly back over her shoulder at Lucien
and Armand, Claudine rose in the saddle, dug in her heels and galloped off towards the dawn. As she went, the fresh wind seemed to snatch away the confusion of the night, the
thundering hooves seemed to trample her doubts, so that by the time Lucien and Armand caught her, she was laughing loudly at the way she had allowed herself to become so
confused when, as Gustave had put it, she was simply
‘under the influence’. ..
It was almost eight o’clock when the three of them, still in their riding clothes, walked into the dining-room, to find Louis humbly sipping his coffee while Solange lectured him
about his health. They all enjoyed the look of relief that
crossed his face when he saw them come in, and Claudine
felt even more cheerful when Monique appeared and told them that Francois and Captain Paillole had left for Paris half an hour before. For reasons neither of them could have
explained, Claudine’s and Armand’s eyes met; they smiled
at each other, shrugged and looked away.
That was the first time Monique had ventured from her
room since her terrible row with Claudine, though Claudine
knew that Francois had informed her of Freddy’s departure
from Montvisse. What else he had said to his sister when
they were closeted together in her room, Claudine did not
know, but she was relieved to see that Monique was taking
an interest in what Armand and Lucien were telling her
about the preparations for the wine feast. She tried several
times to catch her eye, but without success. Plainly,
Monique needed a little more time before she could forgive
her.
Over the next two weeks all thoughts of Francois were
banished from Claudine’s mind, and the only thing that
happened to dampen her spirits was Lucien’s departure to
rejoin his regiment. Armand missed him too, for the three of
them had spent a great deal of time together; though they all
had their own business to attend to during the day, they had
fallen into the habit of going to the cafe almost every
evening, then riding together the following morning. Sometimes
Monique accompanied them, but after Lucien’s
departure she stopped. However, Armand and Claudine
continued with their early morning gallops across the
countryside, and their rowdy soirees down at the cafe, and to
Armand’s continuing chagrin - their rehearsals with
Solange. During the day, while Armand was working in the
vineyards, Claudine busied herself with preparations for the
feast, helped by Solange, Louis and Tante Celine.
Monique went to Paris for a few days, and when she
returned, to Claudine’s relief she started to enter into the
spirit of things, and involved herself in the pantomime the
children were putting on. Each afternoon she waited at the
gates of the chateau for the school bus to return from
Chinon, then escorted the village children to the ballroom
where she and Philippe, the footman who had joined the
household at the end of September, directed the rehearsals
for Sleeping Beauty. Philippe had once been a great actor - or
so he told the children; and while he took them through
their moves and showed them how to deliver their lines most
of which he had written himself - he told them
wonderful stories about life in the theatre. He made
rehearsals such fun that sometimes only a ride home in
Louis’ Bugatti could persuade the children to tear themselves away from him.
Meanwhile Claudine was looking after the adult performers as well as organizing the seating and the staging,!
Much of her time was spent dealing with the displays off
newly acquired artistic temperament; she managed to I
most people happy though, but those who refused to be I
pacified - mostly men, too chauvinistic to take orders from a
woman - she sent over to the vineyards for Armand to cope
with.
As the day of the feast drew closer, they all began to pray I
for fine weather - Father Pointeau had even taken to
mentioning it during mass. That the afternoon and evening
should remain dry was now of paramount importance, for
news of the feast had travelled as far afield as Tours,
Chatellerault and Angers, and so many people were
expected that it would be quite impossible to hold it inside
the chateau. Tante Celine had invited a party of friends
from Paris, and Claudine had written to Dissy and Poppy.
Solange, who was continually surprising Claudine with the
people she knew, had succeeded in attracting such diverse
celebrities as the authoress Simone de Beauvoir, Madame
Lebrun, wife of the President of France - an old school
friend - and Rene Clair, the famous film director. Louis’
old comrades-in-arms had all accepted their invitations too,
whicli meant that several generals and even two Marechaux
de France would be coming, as would Coco Chanel, Edward
Molyneux and half a dozen other dress designers invited by
Monique and Celine. The chateaux of Montvisse and
Lorvoire would be bursting at the seams by the time the
harvest was in, and Claudine didn’t know whether she was
excited, nervous, or just plain crazy.
On the Tuesday before the feast, Armand announced
that the grapes were to be harvested - starting the next day.
Already people had begun arriving at de Lorvoire and
Montvisse, and to Claudine’s amazement and delight, when
the sun rose the following morning aristocrats and peasants
alike were gathering in the vineyards ready to pick the
grapes. It was back-breaking work, but everyone threw
themselves into it with astonishing vigour, and the only
person to complain was Florence Jallais.
By this time Claudine had had several encounters with
Florence Jallais - a little woman with staring eyes and a
vicious tongue - and knew that complaining was about all
she did. Over the past few weeks Florence had never missed
an opportunity of reprimanding her: Claudine was giving
people ideas above their station, and it wasn’t right.
Claudine wasn’t French, of course, so she wouldn’t understand,
but women didn’t go drinking in cafes without their
husbands unless they were trollops, and they didn’t sit down
at the table with the men when the meals were being served
up, the way Claudine had the other day at Liliane’s. Oh yes,
she knew all about that, her husband had been there, he had
seen it. No, Claudine should have waited for the men to
finish before she ate anything herself-that was how decent
Frenchwomen behaved. She was setting a bad example all
round, and should be ashamed of herself…
Halfway through the final afternoon of the harvest, the
day before the feast, it started to rain. A groan went up
throughout the valley, but no one - with the exception of
Florence Jallais - deserted his post. Even Tante Celine and
her friends continued picking, scarves tied around their
heads and mackintoshes draped over their shoulders. Not
one of them had ever done anything like this before, but
tremendous fun though it was, they all agreed later as they
rubbed expensive creams into their swollen, scratched and
in some cases bleeding fingers, that the novelty had now
most definitely worn off-as, thankfully, had the rain.
Everyone retired early to bed that night, exhausted from
the day’s toil, and Claudine drove down to the village to
spend the evening with Liliane and Armand, intending to go over the final details of the next day’s festivities. But Liliane I took herself off to bed within half an hour of Claudine’s I
arrival, and Claudine, rocking back and forth in Liliane’s I
chair in front of the fire, fell into a deep sleep from which I
Armand had some difficulty in rousing her.
By three o’clock on Sunday afternoon, everything was I
ready. Dozens of wooden boxes had been set out to makes I
stage in front of the caves, lights had been rigged in the trees
and on the chateau walls. In the courtyard more than fifty
long tables - borrowed from neighbouring town halls,
chateaux and churches - had been set up. A path had been
cut into the forest so that young Richard, who was playing
Prince Charming, could ride out to his Sleeping Beauty
played
by little Janette Reinberg. Wild boar, roebuck and
hares were roasting on spits, while in the kitchens Arlette,
Liliane and an army of helpers were organizing tureens of
broth and platters of vegetables and freshly baked bread.
Armand and the estate workers were pouring the wine into
pitchers while young Luc, the accordionist who usually
played under the statue of Rabelais in Chinon, ran speedily
through his repertoire before the guests arrived. And in the
ballroom the children were being entertained by Philippe,
who had been excused from his duties in order to keep them
under control until their performance began.
Claudine felt exhausted already. Since mass that morning
she had been driving out to Chinon and the surrounding
villages, checking that everyone had transport to Lorvoire