Poppy chuckled. ‘You’ve surpassed yourself, Clo, old
girl. I can’t think of anyone alive who could have mixed the
classes as successfully as you have today. You’ll be the talk of
the countryside for a long time to come - though I gather
you’re the talk of the countryside already.’
Claudine smiled, and looked up as a rocket screamed
loudly overhead, then exploded into a thousand stars. There
was a loud chorus of approval, and as she lowered her eyes
Claudine saw Armand strolling down over the meadow with
his mother and the men from the village.
‘It was a shame Francois couldn’t be here,’ Dissy said.
‘He’d have been proud of the way you brought all this
together.’
‘Do you think so?’ Claudine whispered. And as she rested
her head on Dissy’s shoulder, there was nothing she could
do to stop the tears of all the pain she harboured inside from
flowing silently down her cheeks.
- 12
It was approaching two in the morning as the black Citroen I
glided smoothly over Chinon bridge, then turned and
headed for the forest road leading to Lorvoire. In just over a
week it would be Christmas. The rain was coming down in
torrents, and the rising mewl of the wind was the only sound that could be heard above the monotonous scraping of the windscreen-wipers. Francois had left Heidelberg over twenty-four hours before, stopping only for gas and a bite to, eat at an inn near Chalons, and now he was tired, unshaven and in a foul temper.
He had known of Hitler’s intention to annex Austria for I
over six months now, but the French government, true to form, were refusing to see what such a move could mean,’
not only for France but for the rest of Europe. Even the
generals were dragging their heels - though that didn’t;
surprise him either, it merely infuriated him. Very few men
in positions of power these days would allow themselves:
actually to believe that there would be another war - which meant that even Louis Rivet and Paul Paillole of the French Secret Service were unable to instill a sense of urgency into
the Defence Ministry. Still, that was their problem. What
concerned Francois now was his forthcoming trip to
London.
His chance meeting with Lord Halifax, who had been in
Berlin recently attempting to persuade Hitler not to help
himself to the Sudetenland, had proved rather more
profitable than his dealings with the French. Again, that
didn’t surprise him. The British often were prepared to
listen, and Halifax had now, via the British Embassy in
Berlin, extended him an invitation to meet that old sparring
partner of his father’s, Winston Churchill.
It wouldn’t be the first time Francois had met Churchill;
they’d come across one another many times over the past
five years, and Francois knew that while the old man
grudgingly admired him for the way he acquired information,
he was also offended by Francois’ continuing refusal to
work solely for the British. The very idea, of course, was
laughable - but Francois was in no mood for humour just at
this moment. The British Ambassador in Berlin had
superciliously informed him that he would not be welcome
in London without documentary evidence to back up his
claims - which was why he was returning to Lorvoire in the
dead of night, to steal into his own home and take the
relevant papers from his father’s safe.
Silently cursing, he swung the car into a clearing in the
forest, just beyond the gates to the chateau. He had to have
the documents. They included the minutes of a recent
secret meeting between the Fuihrer and his staff, which
Francois had obtained in Berlin and sent to Lorvoire by
courier; documents his father had obtained, and refused to
give him, on the German Enigma coding machine - these
would impress the British no end; and a detailed plan of the
Maginot Line. This last would impress the Germans when
next he returned to Berlin.
The rain was still beating down. Hunched into his
voluminous black coat, he made his way stealthily through
the forest to the bridge at the back of the chateau. It was
more than two months since he’d last seen his family, he
realized, but he’d been away much longer than that in the
past - the only difference now was that his father would take
a dim view of the way he was neglecting his wife.
The bunch of keys was already in his hand as he walked
over the bridge and, selecting the one he wanted, let himself quietly in through the door. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then he removed his shoes
and started across the landing. The door to Claudine’s
bedroom was ajar. He hesitated, listened for a moment,
then hearing the steady sound of her breathing, he walked
on.
For such a big man he moved with surprising agility,
stealing through the house as silently and smoothly as the
distorted shadow he cast before him. He knew every nook
and cranny of the chateau, every stair that creaked and every
door that groaned. In no time at all he was slipping quietly
into the drawing-room, closing the door behind him, then
crossing to the library.
He approached his father’s desk and took the bunch of
keys from his pocket, slid the smallest one into the lock and
eased open the bottom drawer which housed the document
safe. Then he sat down and turned on the desk lamp. The
safe combination was easy to remember, it was his and
Lucien’s dates of birth in reverse order.
In less that five minutes he had everything he had come
for. The documents were on the desk, the safe was closed
and the drawer locked.
Now, the only thing left to be dealt with was the gun
which was pointing straight at his head …
He glanced again at the shadow splayed across the wall,
then swore under his breath as he sank back in the chair.
The man was standing over him. The lamp was between
them, so that the man’s face was lost in shadow, but
Francois knew who it was, and his mouth curled in a grim
smile as he waited to be recognized.
‘Monsieur de Lorvoire!’ Philippe gasped.
Francois’ eyes narrowed, and he watched with callous
amusement as the footman’s mouth begin to twitch.
‘I - I heard a noise, monsieur,’ Philippe stammered,
feeling himself break into a cold sweat under that terrible
gaze. ‘I didn’t know it was you.’
‘You weren’t supposed to.’ He nodded towards the gun.
Philippe started as he realized he was still pointing it, and
his boyishly middle-aged face was white and trembling as he
placed it on the desk.
Francois stood up, then sweeping the documents into the
deep pocket inside his coat, he turned off the lamp.
Philippe’s heart started to pound as his eyes adjusted to
the eerie blue darkness. Francois’ face was hidden in
shadow, but Philippe could see the whites of his eyes and
the vicious silvery gash that tore across his cheek. Ordinarily
Philippe was a brave man, but faced with such menace he
was terrified, not only for his life, but also, he suddenly
realized, for his immortal soul. Involuntarily his hand
moved to make the sign of the cross, but before he could
even begin Francois had grabbed it and twisted it behind his
back.
‘God won’t save you!’ he hissed. Then he laughed, a low,
demonic sound, and Philippe felt the air around him turn
chill. ‘Pick up the gun, Philippe, and return to your room.
Forget you have seen me tonight … if you can.’ Again
Francois laughed, and Philippe needed no second bidding.
He picked up the gun, and fled from the room.
Once he was in the hall he stopped, and took a deep
breath in an effort to steady his nerves. His fear had been
genuine enough, his heart was still thudding like the drums
of hell and that diabolical laugh still rang in his ears, but
petrified as he was, he could still rejoice in the immense
good fortune he’d had to stumble upon Francois de
Lorvoire in the dead of night, stealing documents from his
father’s safe. The content of the documents was of no
concern to Philippe, nor did it interest him that de Lorvoire
obviously didn’t want his family to know he was here. All that concerned him was the fact that, just as his employer had suspected, Francois de Lorvoire was no longer in
Germany. Now all Philippe had to do was to get the
information through.
Having given Philippe enough time to return to his room,
IF
Francois let himself out of the library and started backup!
the stairs. He’d been in half a mind to dispense with the
footman there and then, but since he didn’t present any immediate danger, either to himself or his family, he’d decided not to bother. However, the very moment Philippe
looked like becoming a problem, his stay at the chateau
would be cut dramatically short. Francois liked that
‘dramatically’; given the man’s theatrical background, it was
peculiarly appropriate. He allowed himself a quiet chuckle
as he considered how Philippe’s employer might respond to the bogus footman’s hasty despatch.
Dismissing the man from his mind, Francois made his
way back to the nursery landing. Once again he hesitated at
Claudine’s door, and this time, instead of walking on, he
pushed the door wider and stepped into the moonlit room.
He walked to the foot of the bed, his hands in his pockets;
and a heavy frown between his eyes. He looked down at her
for some time before allowing himself actually to see her.
When he did, the frown deepened as he became aware of his
response. Her tousled raven hair tumbled over the pillows,
and her sleeping face looked vulnerable in the soft grey light
from the window. Her shoulders were bare, and he could
see the gentle curve of her breasts beneath the flimsy silk of her nightgown.
There was no denying her sensuality, and his body craved
the release, but even as the thought entered his mind, he
discarded it. Quite apart from the need to keep this visit
secret, any encounter with his wife meant walking into an
emotional minefield … But his need was pressing, which
made him wonder how long it was since he had seen Elise.
Six weeks - six long weeks since they had lain in her bed and
she had told him how all Paris was talking about the success of the Lorvoire wine feast for which Claudine had been responsible. The memory brought a grim smile to Francois’
face as he recalled how his response had dissolved into a
groan when Elise’s succulent mouth closed over his
genitals.
His eyes were now on Claudine’s mouth, and he nearly
laughed aloud at the idea of her satisfying him in that way. He
wondered then if he had ever kissed her; he couldn’t
remember. If anything, that pleased him - he had done
I everything in his power to make her despise him, and hoped that by now he had succeeded. It would make life a great deal easier if he had, but he had never met a woman of such
infuriating tenacity. Under different circumstances he might
have admired her for it, for no matter what he did to her, it
seemed that nothing would break that intransigent spirit of
hers. But since he had learned of the Abwehr’s intention to
recruit him, and knowing only too well the methods German
Intelligence employed to achieve what they wanted, the
clangers and decisions that faced him during the years ahead
were such that he could not allow himself the luxury of the
kind of wife she so obviously wanted to be.
What a fool she was, he thought, for not having listened to
him at the outset! She could have saved herself so much
pain. But he had never done anything to encourage her love,
and the responsibility for her suffering must be hers alone.
She meant nothing to him, she was there only because his
father wanted her to be.
Not wanting to waste any more time, he turned away from
the bed and went back to the landing to recover his shoes.
He stopped for a moment, sensing suddenly that the night
sounds had changed. But it was only that the rain was lighter
now, and raking his fingers quickly through his damp hair,
he let himself out into the night.
As she heard the door to the bridge swing closed,
Claudine opened her eyes. She had known he was there.
She had been in the nursery, not in bed, when he came out
of the forest; she had seen him crossing the bridge from the
window, and had run back to her bedroom so he should not
find her awake. She had heard him go downstairs,
come up again. She had felt him standing at the end of her!
bed, watching her, but she had not stirred. She didn’t want him to ask why she had been in the nursery, and she didn’t!
want to know why he had entered his own home like a burglar. Not that he would have told her, of course, but he ‘
would have been angry that she had seen him. And
something she couldn’t face just now was Francois’ anger.
Ever since the night of the wine feast she had felt as
though her life was crumbling to pieces. The confusion and