away.
‘Cover yourself up,’ he growled, rearranging his own
clothes.
‘Francois, why are you doing this? Why, when …’
He turned back, and she flinched at the malicious smile
on his lips. ‘I did it to show you what a fool you are. To show you…’
‘No! You did it because you wanted me. Francois I saw it,
I felt it.’
‘You saw and felt what you wanted to,’ he snarled. ‘Now,
cover yourself!’
‘I won’t! I want you and I’m not afraid to say it. You want
me too …’
Wo!’ he roared. ‘I don’t want you, Claudine. I’ve never
wanted you. If I did I’d have taken you, just as you wanted
me to. But you disgust me, do you hear? You disgust and
repel me!’
For one dreadful moment she thought he was going to hit
her, but then the anger suddenly died in his eyes, and in its
place was a sinister light of pleasure. She stared up at him,
too shocked to speak - and then he turned away and started
towards his bedroom.
‘Francois,’ she said.
He looked back at where she stood beside the table, her
coat covering the skirt that was hitched around her waist.
Her face was pale, but her voice was perfectly steady as she
said, ‘I want you to know, Francois, that I wish with all my
heart that the child I am carrying was Armand’s. But it’s not,
it’s yours. It can only be yours because until I married you, I
was a virgin, and since I married you I have never slept with
another man. I don’t care if you believe me, I don’t care what
you think or do any more, but I want to know one thing. I
want to know whether, if the baby had been Armand’s, you
would have let me go.’
The corner of his mouth lifted in a ghastly smile as he
took his time contemplating her. In the end she could stand
it no more.
‘What would you have done?’ she screamed.
Finally, with a diabolical lowering of his eyebrows, he
said, ‘Remember Hortense.’ And chuckling quietly to
himself, he walked into his room.
Claudine was now in her sixth month of pregnancy, and
though there were still times when she felt listless and
depressed, on the whole she was coping much better than
she had in the earlier stages. She never allowed herself to
think about Francois now, and had firmly banished from her
mind the memory of that terrible day when she had told him
she was pregnant. Instead she concentrated on Armand,
doing everything she could to recapture the friendship they
had had before the harvest celebration. Of course, things
were different now, they both knew that. There were times
when her need for his love, his kindness, his comforting
arms, reached such a pitch that, but for the fact that they
were careful never to be alone together, she would have
been unable to stop herself touching him.
As news of her pregnancy spread people had started to
come from the nearby chateaux to see her, and some even
motored down from Paris. She was happy to see them, but
knowing that their presence was a constant reminder to
Armand of the great difference between their lives, she was
always relieved when they left. And in fact she was never
happier than on the quiet days, when she could drop in to
see Liliane and relax in the rocking chair beside the fire,
while the old lady chattered on and the early spring sunlight
shone in through the open window.
Little Janette and Robert Reinberg always kept a look out
for her car, and if they saw it outside the St Jacques’ house,
would come bounding along the street to see her. Madame
Reinberg’s tailoring business was now beginning to thrive,
and Claudine loved the way Armand spent whatever time he
could with the two children, trying in his own way to make
up to them for the loss of their father. They adored him, and
Janette, who had discovered that one coy look from under
her outrageously long lashes could persuade him to do
anything, used her charms shamelessly.
Whenever Claudine went to the village she invariably
arrived at midday, knowing that Armand and several other
men from the vineyards would come in soon afterwards for
their lunch. Sometimes, as she watched Armand helping
himself to food or tossing back his wine, the coarse golden
hair on his arms glinting in the sunlight, his handsome face
intent on the business at hand, she would imagine what it
would be like if it were just the two of them there, safe and
secure in their love, with their child growing in her womb. It
was a fantasy which she knew would only distress her later,
when she was forced to return to the reality of her marriage,
but she couldn’t deny herself the happiness of those few
minutes spent dreaming of how things might be.
Sometimes, rocking in the chair, she fell into a doze; then
feeling a hand on her arm, she would look up and see
Armand standing over her, his eyes alight with laughter and
love as he gently teased her for snoring through her dreams.
How she managed to stop herself reaching out for him then,
she never knew.
But there were days when Armand was bad-tempered
and snapped at everyone. When he was like that, Janette and
Robert would take themselves off, the meals would pass in
silence and Claudine would watch him with a heavy heart It
was always when Francois was at home that he was like this.
She came less often then, knowing that during those times it
hurt him, rather than pleased him, to see her.
The night before her birthday was one of the occasions
on which Francois was at home. He gave her a diamond and
ruby necklace in a Mauboussin box - at least, he left it on the
table in their sitting-room for her to find. She hadn’t
realized he even knew it was her birthday, but of course
Solange or Louis would have told him. When she opened
the box, she gasped. The necklace was the most beautiful
and unusual she had ever seen, with three ruby crosses of
Lorraine hanging from a three-tiered diamond neckband. It
must have cost him a fortune.
She had intended to thank him over dinner, but he was so
engrossed in talk with his father - France was being torn
apart between the Left and Right, they were saying, and
Louis was highly critical of Leon Blum’s intention of
forming a new Popular Front government - that she
decided to leave it until the next morning. But immediately
after dinner, Francois informed them that he must return to
Paris that night.
She allowed herself no feelings about the fact that he
wasn’t intending to stay for her birthday, though somewhere
in the deepest recesses of her mind, she thought she was
pleased. Perhaps she was at last beginning to overcome her
obsession with him. And besides, if he had stayed she would
have had to cancel the party she was planning with Solange
and Monique, for his presence would have made it impossible.
The morning of her birthday was the morning the
Germans finally marched into Austria. But no one at
Lorvoire heard the news that day, for it was the day
Claudine had her accident.
She was woken early by the baby, who was being even
more active than usual, and laughing, she clutched her
hands to her belly and started to scold it. Then, thinking of
Armand and the day ahead, she felt a sudden rush of
happiness. She got out of bed and strolled onto the balcony
outside her room, where the branches of the forest were
almost close enough to touch and the sun glittered through
the leaves.
A little while later she heard the sound of the door
opening and then Magaly’s gasp of alarm. It wasn’t the fact
that she was outside that had dismayed Magaly, it was that
she was wearing nothing more than a rapturous smile.
‘Madame!’ Magaly cried. ‘You will catch a cold! Think of
the baby!’
‘I am,’ Claudine said. ‘It’s so restless this morning, it’s as
if it knows it’s my birthday.’ She ran her hands over her
swollen stomach and started to murmur softly to her child. ‘I
wish I could walk like this through the forest, Magaly,’ she
said. ‘It seems so right to be naked with nature when I am
carrying a baby.’
By the time Claudine was ready for breakfast, she was so
happy she felt she might burst with it. She could hardly wait
for midday, for all the vineyard workers had been invited to
take their lunch at the chateau today, and so too had the
children who were too young to be at school, their mothers
and grandmothers, Father Pointeau and Doctor Lebrun.
Even Florence Jallais was coming, though only because
Armand had agreed to drive her in his van. So, apart from
her family, all her guests would be village people, and she
was looking forward to it so much that the only thing that
had come close to upsetting her was that she couldn’t find
Francois’ necklace. Never mind, she was too excited to worry about that now. And she began to sail down the stairs in her crimson wool maternity dress, looking, as she had told
Magaly, exactly like someone in a bell tent.
It was as she reached the second flight that she heard the
noise behind her. Everything happened so quickly then that
no one had the chance to shout a warning. Yet when she
remembered it later, it was as if it was all happening in slow
motion - the clatter of china and silver making her pause,
then turn, then she opened her mouth to scream as the
footman’s body came thundering towards her. As she hit the
stairs she felt something sharp dig into her shoulder, then
her body seemed to be twisting away from her as the
chandelier above started to spin. The last thing she knew
was a blinding, star-spangled pain as her head struck the
bottom stair.
Hearing the noise, Solange and Louis ran out into the
hall, followed by the servants. Monique and Magaly came
flying down the stairs, and the instant Magaly saw her
mistress’s inert body entangled with the footman’s, and
surrounded by the remains of a breakfast tray, she started to
scream.
‘Jean-Paul!’ Solange barked. ‘Find Marcel…’
‘I’m here, madame?
‘Marcel. Go for Doctor Lebrun. Monique! Get away,
don’t move her. Tilde, Fabienne, fetch some blankets.
Louis, take your medication. Now!’
The footman started to groan with pain. ‘It’s all right,
Philippe,’ Solange told him, bending down to take his hand.
‘Marcel’s gone for the doctor. He’ll be here soon. Just lie
still.’
It seemed an eternity before the doctor arrived, but in that
time Solange managed to ascertain that Philippe had
probably broken his leg. There was also a deep cut on his
jaw, and an angry swelling had started over one eye. He was
conscious, though it was clear from the way his head kept
rolling from side to side that he was dazed and disoriented.
However, he would live - as would Claudine, Solange
told herself vehemently. But her daughter-in-law’s lovely
face was so pale, and though she had been rubbing her
wrists for some time, and wafting smelling-salts under he
nose, Claudine showed no signs of coming round
Monique’s hands were resting gently on Claudine’s
stomach, and when she met her mother’s eyes she shook her
head. ‘It’s not moving,’ she whispered.
After leaving the chateau the night before, Francois had
driven straight to the avenue Foch. Almost two months had
passed since Elise had told him of Claudine’s pregnancy,
and her affair with Armand, and he hadn’t seen her again in
all that time.
Elise had been uneasy at his prolonged absence, particularly
since he hadn’t even telephoned to say where he was.
She knew he was in communication with his courier, Erich
von Pappen, but for once von Pappen had refused to divulge
Francois’ whereabouts - and her other methods of finding
out had, on this occasion, failed her.
By way of comfort, she had reminded her self that a great
deal had been happening in Europe over the past couple of
months to interest Francois. Adolf Hitler had pronounced
himself Germany’s Supreme Military Commander, and
Lord Halifax was now the British Foreign Secretary. Most
important of all, perhaps - at least, as far as Francois was
concerned - the Nazi plot to annex Austria had been made
public. Though the expose had obviously come far too late,
Elise thought, because Erich von Pappen had told her that
the Germans were poised to walk into Austria the very next
day.
She wondered how many other people knew that - and
how much von Schuschnigg, Austria’s Chancellor, had paid
Francois for information on the Nazi plot. But that was the
kind of detail Francois never disclosed to anyone, and in
truth it didn’t really interest Elise. All that mattered to her,
as she sat alone in her drawing-room, was that at last he had
telephoned to say he was coming.
Beneath her oyster silk peignoir she wore nothing but a