talk of war, love, like everything else, became more urgent;
there was a feeling of excitement in the city as children
donned their gas masks to frighten their friends, newspaper
vendors barked , ‘LeMatin! LeMatin! Le Boche arrived and
shops on the rue de Rivoli did a roaring trade in china dogs
lifting a leg on a copy of Mein Kampf. There was a sense of
unreality, too, as if all this might be the product of a fever
which would soon subside.
The day before the July ball, excited and nervous,
Monique took Claudine to meet Karol Kalinowski at his
apartment on the avenue Marceau. Claudine liked him on
sight. His face was severe and his manner a trifle abrupt, she
thought, but the twinkle in his green eyes was constant and
there was no mistaking his devotion to Monique. They
spent a cheerful two hours together, listening as Karol told
stories of his homeland and plied them with refreshments
almost as lavish as his compliments. Claudine was enjoying
herself so much that she almost forgot Karol and Monique
had not seen each other for three weeks, and that it might be
tactful to leave them alone together.
She rode back to the Bois de Boulogne in a taxi, feeling
very happy - almost as if she must try to keep her spirits from
soaring too high. She was missing Armand dreadfully, of
course, but it was so wonderful to be in Paris, away from the
prying eyes that followed her about Lorvoire. And she could
hardly wait to get home to see if her ball gown had been
delivered yet… Again she sighed as she pictured the yards
and yards of black rayon satin, the strapless crossover
bodice and daringly low back. Monique and Solange had
shrieked with laughter during her final fitting, for when she
stooped to pick up the hem, her breasts had broken free of
the bodice.
‘It is no matter,’ Coco had assured her, ‘we shall merely
stiffen the whalebone and tighten the crossover.’
‘But will I be able to breathe?’
‘I doubt it, but which do you wish.to secure, your modesty
or your life?’
‘My life, I think. Even if I remain covered, this gown
leaves very little to the imagination!’
‘Then we shall do our best,’ Coco laughed. ‘And perhaps,
before you return to Lorvoire, you will do me the honour of
being photographed in the dress. I am very proud of this
creation.’
When she arrived home Claudine ran straight up the
stairs to the nursery, but only to find that Louis was asleep.
She stood over him for several minutes, looking at his
adorable little face, the tousled mop of black hair, the long
dark lashes curled over the silky smoothness of his cheeks.
She loved him so much she ached with it.
‘He has worn himself out playing with all the new toys
Madame la Comtesse has purchased,’ Corinne said, coming
into the room and standing beside her at the cot.
‘She spoils him,’ Claudine said softly. ‘We all do.’ She
turned back to the nanny. ‘Corinne, if anything were to
happen to him …’
‘There now, Madame? Corinne soothed. ‘Nothing is going
to happen to him. Has your husband not given you his word?’
It was clear from Claudine’s expression that she needed
more reassurance than that. Corinne pressed her hand.
‘Why don’t you go down to the sitting-room? The Comtesse
is about to take tea with her visitors and I believe your aunt is
amongst them.’
Immediately Claudine’s face brightened. ‘Tante Celine!’
she cried. ‘I had no idea she was in Paris.’ And after casting
another lingering look at her son, she ran off down the
stairs.
The following morning she was standing at the mirror in
the hall, arranging her hat before joining Corinne and Louis
for their walk, when she was drawn to the sound of voices
coming from the study.
‘… so I am afraid, Monsieur le Comte, that I am unable to
tell you any more than that.’
She frowned. It was a voice she recognized, but for the
moment she couldn’t place it.
‘Have you sent anyone to Brest?’ Louis enquired.
‘Of course, monsieur. But it is over fourteen days now
since the Royal Navy landed him, he is unlikely still to be
there.’
‘But someone there must have seen him?’
‘There is a garage mechanic who was holding Francois’
car. Francois collected it, as arranged, and the mechanic has
every reason to believe he then drove out of Brest.’
Claudine edged closer to the door.
‘You’re taking the word of a garage mechanic?’
‘We have no choice, monsieur. No one else has seen him,
no one has heard from him.’
‘Have you tried Elise Pascale?’
‘Naturally. She is as baffled as we are.’
‘This isn’t good enough, Paillole,’ Louis said. ‘I don’t
need to remind you what a dangerous game my son is
playing and it is one of which I strongly disapprove. I want
him found, and I want him found alive.’
‘Of course, monsieur. We all want that. But the reason I
have come here today is to prepare you for the worst.’
Claudine’s heart stood still.
‘So you think he is already dead?’ Louis snapped.
‘No. That is not what we think at all. What we think is
what we have always feared.’
There was a long silence, then Louis spoke again. ‘Are
you saying what I think you’re saying, Captain Paillole?’
‘We have no confirmation, monsieur, but I’m afraid, yes,
that is what we suspect.’
‘Get out of here!’ Louis roared. ‘Get out and don’t come
into my house again!’
Claudine fled across the hall to the sitting-room.
Thankfully no one was inside. She heard the front door
slam, then Captain Paillole’s footsteps in the drive. She
crossed quickly to the window and watched as he drove out
of the gates.
She could make nothing of what she had heard, nothing
except that Francois had vanished - and somewhere inside
her a knot of fear started to tighten. If she asked Louis to
explain, it would mean admitting to eavesdropping. But did
that matter? It was her husband they had been discussing she
had a right to know what Captain Paillole suspected him
of.
Louis was still in his study when she knocked, but as she
pushed the door open Monique came flying down the stairs
crying, ‘Papa! Papa! Is he there, Claudine? Oh Papa! You
are the most generous man in the world,’ she gushed, sailing
into the room. ‘Did you see what he has given me, Claudine?
Look here,’ and she passed Claudine a small leather case.
Inside was an emerald necklace, earrings and bracelet. ‘Won’t they match my dress perfectly this evening? Oh Papa, you are so clever.’
To Claudine’s amazement there was nothing in Louis’
manner to suggest that only a few moments ago he had lost
his temper; as he accepted his daughter’s gratitude his face
was a picture of pleasure.
‘It’s stunning, Louis,’ Claudine said. ‘Absolutely …’
‘Just a minute,’ he interrupted. ‘Have you not found your
own? I instructed Magaly to leave it on your dressing table.’
Claudine shook her head, bewildered.
‘Then I suggest you return to your room and inspect my
choice. If it is not suitable we shall need to change it before
tonight. And you, Monique, why don’t you go with her while
I make a telephone call?’
The rest of the day was so taken up with last-minute
house guests arriving and then their own preparations for
the ball, that it wasn’t until late afternoon that Claudine had
an opportunity to speak to Louis again. However, when she
knocked on the study door there was no reply, and when she
turned the handle she found that it was locked. Puzzled, she
went back upstairs, and had got as far as the first landing
when she heard the study door open, and saw Louis cross to
the front door and open it. He spoke briefly to a man she
couldn’t see, closed the door again and returned to the
study.
There was obviously something strange going on, and as
the evening went on Claudine found herself increasingly
unnerved by it. Uppermost in her mind was the fact that
Francois had disappeared. What he had done, or what
Captain Paillole suspected him of, had for the moment
ceased to matter: she just wanted to know where he was.
Then it occurred to her that Corinne might know.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do know where he is,’ Corinne
said. ‘But I’m afraid he has instructed me to tell no one. The
only reason I know is so that I can reach him if I feel Louis is
in any danger.’
‘But what about Francois? Is he in any danger?’
Corinne smiled. ‘Not now, madame.’
‘Meaning he was?’
‘I think a little, yes.’
Claudine’s eyes narrowed. ‘Corinne! I want to know
where he is!’
‘Madame, monsieur gives his orders for his own safety as
well as yours, and I should be in breach of my duty to you
both if I went against his wishes.’
‘I want to know, Corinne!’
But just then, to Corinne’s evident relief, the door
opened and Solange came in with Louis.
Claudine had no choice but to accept her defeat and
several minutes later took Louis off to her own room so he
could join her in the bath. And after all, she thought as she
lay back in the scented water while Magaly handed her a
glass of champagne and Louis sailed his toy boats around
her, if Corinne believed Francois to be safe then he
probably was. And she had no intention of spoiling this
evening by worrying about a husband she detested.
The ball was in full swing by the time the Polish
Ambassador led his staff, bare-footed, in a polonaise across
the Embassy lawn. The watching crowd gasped in admiration
as the macabre glow of red Bengal lights illuminated
the dancers, bejewelled women glittered in the darkness
and coloured smoke entwined itself around them. It was as
though they were dancing on fire.
Guy de Maulevrier, a family friend who was Claudine’s
escort for the evening, ushered her to the front of the
audience, and seeing her, Monsieur Lukasiewicz, the
Polish Ambassador, took her by the hand and drew her into
the dance. Others were joining in too, and as the music
swelled to a deafening pitch and the rhythm quickened to a
polka, beautiful women frolicked about the gardens in the
arms of their dashing young courtiers - while inside the
statesmen talked soberly of war.
At the end of the dance, breathless and laughing,
Claudine fell back into the arms of Guy de Maulevrier, who
whisked a glass of champagne from a passing tray for her,
then stooped to kiss her shoulders. She was enjoying
herself, surrounded by friends. There was singing; only the
Poles knew the words, but everyone joined in, making as
much noise as they could so that the surrounding streets
rang with their merriment. Guy’s hands were again on
Claudine’s shoulders, making her feel reckless and carefree
and happy. Then suddenly there was someone tugging at
her wrist, and looking round she saw Tante Celine.
‘It’s Monique,’ Celine shouted above the din. ‘You’d
better come.’
She hurried through the embassy after her aunt until they
reached the Ambassador’s outer office, where Monique was
sitting alone. She looked up when they walked in, and as her
black bobbed hair fell back from her face, Claudine almost
gasped aloud.
‘What is it?’ she cried. ‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s Karol,’ Celine answered. ‘He hasn’t arrived. I sent
my chauffeur round to his apartment, and he’s just
returned. There’s no sign of Karol, and it’s past midnight’
Claudine sat down beside Monique and took her hand.
‘There will be an explanation, cherie?
‘That’s what Celine keeps saying,’ Monique wailed, ‘but
what explanation can there be? He knew how important
tonight was to me. He was to meet Maman and Papa. Oh,
Claudine, you don’t think he’s changed his mind about me,
do you?’
‘No, of course I don’t,’ Claudine assured her. ‘He’s in
love with you. He…’
‘But I’ve thought men were in love with me before,’
Monique cried, wrenching her hands away and burying her
face in them. ‘Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening to
me again. Why does it have to be like this for me? I can’t have
him, he can never be mine, that’s why I try so hard to fall in
love with other men. And I thought Karol was the man, I
thought that this time …’
‘Monique, what are you saying?’ Claudine interrupted.
‘Who can never be yours?’
Quickly Monique shook her head. ‘No one, nothing. I
didn’t mean anything. Oh, Claudine, what have I done to
deserve this?’
Claudine looked at her aunt for help, but Celine only
shrugged. ‘All right,’ Claudine said decisively. ‘Tell me who
Karol’s friends are, Monique, and I’ll go and ask them if
they know where he is.’
‘Here,’ Celine said, taking a pad and pen from the desk
behind her, ‘write them down, Claudine.’