Dangerous to Know (34 page)

“That night at La Chunga, as he led me around the dance floor, holding me tightly in his arms, kissing my cheek and my hair, I realized I could not stop the inevitable from happening. I knew we were going to end up in bed together. Joe knew it too. There had been something special between us from the start of our friendship.

“We spent the next four days and nights together, and then unexpectedly I panicked. As much as I liked Joe, thought he was attractive and engaging, I realized that I was risking far too much by continuing the relationship. It struck me most forcibly that I had no alternative but to bring our brief romantic liaison to an end.

“When I explained to Joe that I had been called home because of a sudden emergency, he said he understood. Nevertheless, he looked disappointed when I said we could never meet again, was saddened when we took our leave of each other.

“Later that day I boarded the Blue Thain for Paris and my real life there. Almost immediately I began to regret the affair and wished it had not happened. The more I thought about it the more I believed I had been foolish and irresponsible. Constantly I chastised myself. On the other hand, there was no way I could turn back the clock. Nor could I eradicate my adultery. I kept telling myself I was not the first person to have had an extramarital affair. Hundreds of millions of -people did it every day, and it was part of being human. But this knowledge did not make me feel any better.

“I tried hard not to dwell on those few illicit days I had spent with Joe in Cannes and to some extent I succeeded. But there were awful moments when those guilty feelings returned, usually in the middle of the night when I tossed and turned and wrestled with my demons.

“And then at the end of July I had something else to occupy my mind, rather serious worries in fact. I had missed my period. As the days passed I grew more and more convinced I was pregnant with Joe Anthony’s child. In August my body started to undergo certain changes, in particular my breasts were tender and enlarged. I missed my second period at the end of August. By my calculations I was about five or six weeks into my pregnancy.

“I was panic-stricken, floundering, and did not know which way to turn.

I thought of confiding in Desiree and then changed my mind, although I’ve never been sure why I did so. She was my dearest friend, I trusted her, and I knew she would never betray my confidence. And yet I could not bring myself to speak to her of my affair with Joe.

“Perhaps I was a little self-conscious, even a trifle ashamed -of my self, although I knew that Desiree de Marmont was a wise woman of the world. She would never presume to pass judgment on me or any one else.

There was even one awful moment when I toyed with the idea of an abortion, but I dismissed this at once. It was far too repugnant to me.

“I am not a religious person. God was beaten out of me when I was young. When one suffers all kinds of abuse at the hands of adults it is hard for a child to keep her faith in God. As a young girl I used to ask myself why God was allowing such terrible things to happen to me, why God allowed such evil to thrive in this world. But I had no answers . I felt He had abandoned me. And I ceased to believe in God’s existence.

“When I married Edouard I naturally had to give lip service to the idea of God because the de Grenailles were a devout Catholic family.

However, it was only lip service. Imagine my surprise then, Vivienne, when one day at the end of August, when I was out walking, I found myself going into a church in the Latin Quarter. It was St.

Etienne du M?nt, a place of worship I had not frequented before.

‘To this very day I don’t know why I went into that particular church on that particular afternoon. I did not go inside to pray. I simply sat there letting the silence envelope me. The interior was very beautiful with its vaulted ceiling, soaring pillars, and stained glass windows.

But it was the quiet, the absolute peace that made the greatest impression.

“I sat there for a long time. A kind of lassitude settled over me. My thoughts had been on the baby the entire morning, and I had been worrying, wondering what to do. But now I closed my eyes, let go of those worries, finally relaxing. Then without warning I experienced a 232Bartam Taylor Bradford rush of the most intense emotion, a feeling of such enormous love for the child growing inside me I was startled.

“Almost at once everything became crystal clear. With great clarity I saw right into the heart of things. I knew what I was going to do. When the baby was born it would be a de Grenaille. It would bring joy and happiness back into my marriage, and Edouard would love the baby as much as I already did. The baby was the solution to everything.

“A short while later I rose and walked slowly down the aisle, confident at last that everything was going to be all right. Just before leaving the church I paused to put money in the collection box.

It was then that I discovered the church contained the reliquary of Saint Gene vie.

I could not help thinking what a curious coincidence that was.

“Almost overnight my feelings of guilt and remorse disappeared and that wonderful sense of ‘ightness remained with me. Edouard returned home from Brazzaville on the first day of September. From the moment he walked in I was convinced everything would work out. He was in such a wonderful frame of mind, Vivienne, my heart lifted even more than it had in church. He looked tan and fit, and he was full of good humor, gave the impression of being glad to be home. One of the first things he did was to apologize to me for his churlish behavior over those many, many months before.

“That weekend we drove to the chateau in Normandy, and in the tranquility of our lovely old bedroom we made passionate love. It was as if Edouard were trying to exonerate himself for his unfairness and unkindness to me during the past few years. His passion did not lessen that,weekend and he kept avowing his love for me.

“Edouard made me radiantly happy that weekend, and my feelings for him were reinforced. I understood how deeply I loved my husband and how much he meant to me. A month later I was able to tell Edouard I was pregnant. Of course he was overjoyed. And for my entire pregnancy he was loving, tender, devoted, and considerate, and he could not do enough for me. I was completely content and happy as I carried the child to full term.

“Of course there were days when I had sudden misgivings, Vivienne.

I am not devious by nature and occasionally my deception troubled me.

But whenever I experienced a slight twinge of guilt, I focused all my thoughts on Edouard. I reminded myself I was about to give him the child he had wanted throughout his adult life.

“His first wife had failed him. I had not. I was going to present him with the their he craved. I had ensured the family name and title.

The de Grenaille line would continue. Edouard would never know that the child was not his. In any case he would be a good father, and thus would make the child his through his love, there was no doubt in my mind about that.

“I was certain that Joe Anthony was already back in the States, had disappeared into oblivion. Joe did not know my real name. I was Genevieve Brunot to him. Therefore I was safe. The baby was safe. I would never set eyes on Joe Anthony again. Or so I thought.

“My baby was born eight months after Edouard and I had enjoyed our passionate reunion at the family chateau. Edouard assumed the baby was premature and I did not contradict him. She was a dainty baby, small and delicate, and we named her Ariel. And indeed she did seem to be an airy spirit, a little sprite of a thing.

“For the first year of her life Edouard doted on Ariel, and then slowly that discontent I remembered so well took hold of him once again. He kept muttering that he wished she had been a boy and constantly expressed to me his need for a son. I knew t,hat however much we made love I was not going to get pregnant by Edouard. He was sterile. I was filled with dismay. As time passed and his dissatisfaction with Ariel and with me only increased rather than lessened, I grew more nervous and depressed. And desperate.

“Under French law a daughter can inherit the title and estates, and naturally Edouard knew this. Very simply, Vivienne, he was a man obsessed. That overwhelming desire to have a son dominated him. The more he talked about it to me the more I understood that it was like a cancer gnawing at him inside.

“By the time Ariel’s second birthday came around Edouard had become so difficult he was impossible to live with. He was tempera mental, volatile, and extremely irritable with me. But then suddenly, later that summer, he had to go away unexpectedly and I welcomed this.

“His Uncle Jean-Pierre had had a heart attack. Since Edouard was his only living relative, my husband felt he must go to Brazzaville to take charge of things. I encouraged him in this and when he left I breathed a sigh of relief. I was glad to be alone for a few weeks, to regain my equilibrium.

“Desiree de Marmont was leaving for Biarritz that same week and begged me to go with her. At first I refused but then at the last moment I accepted her invitation. I took Ariel and the nanny with me.

“As it happened, I met a man in Biarritz, Vivienne. He was a friend of Desiree’s, and he proved to be a charming and considerate escort, taking me out to lunch, to tea, drives along the coast, and to the cinema. He and I became good friends very quickly. Patric Langalle was a local landowner, titled, and a married man. However, his wife never accompanied him when he visited De’sir’s house, and I got the impression it was not a particularly happy marriage. I soon realized how attracted he was to me, and one day I made a decision. I would no longer resist his advances. I was going to have an affair with Patric. My husband was desperate for a son. I was going to give him one.

“And that is how Charles was conceived, Vivienne. Perhaps I have made my affair with Patric sound very cut and dried, even cold blooded.

But it wasn’t, not really. Although I do admit it was a conscious decision on my part, desiring as I did to get pregnant.

“However, Patric was a kind and loving man, and he made me feel womanly again, and desirable, and my nervousness and despair soon fled.

I felt better than I had in a long time. I admit it was different from my affair with Joe Anthony. Joe and I had stumbled into each other’s arms unwittingly, almost by accident. This was more calculated, it’s true, but I, liked Patric and I knew how much he cared about me.

“Once Edouard had a son in his arms at long last he reverted to his old self, became the lovely man I originally married. He adored the children and he adored me. He became an exemplary father and husband, and we settled into domestic bliss.

“The next twenty years were the best years of my life, Vivienne.

I never looked back. I never thought about Joe Anthony. Or Patric Langalle.

Edouard and our children were my whole existence. I was content.

At peace. The happiness I had dreamed of years ago was mine at last.

I even forgot about my terrible childhood and horrendous things that happened to me in my early life. I was a good wife, a good mother, and I reveled in these roles.”

I paused and looked acnoss at Vivienne. “I may have shocked you

. . admitting that I let Edouard think Ariel and Charles were his children.”

“No, you haven’t!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Not at all.

You gave your husband everything he wanted, Countess Zoe, made him happy, brought joy into his life. He had those children from birth, so they we his. Besides, just because a man pumps sperm into a woman, gets her pregnant, doesn’t mean he’s a father. It’s what a man does after the child is born that matters. From what you’ve told me, the count loved Ariel and Charles very much, and that’s what is important , surely?”

“Thank you for saying that, Vivienne,” I replied, and continued, “From the moment Charles was born there was never another cross word between Edouard and myself. We were so close, like one person, and our happiness was the thing I treasured the most. Yes, life was finally as I had dreamed it could be.

“Then out of the blue in the spring of 1983 my whole world fell apart.”

I stopped, took a sip of champagne.

Vivienne asked quickly, “What happened?”

“I received a letter from a man called Sam Loring, a stranger. He wrote that he was visiting Paris from Chicago, that he was a friend of Joe Anthony and Genevive Brunot and wished to see me. I was stunned.

I did nothing for two days, and then I finally phoned him at the Hotel Scribe, as he had requested.

“We met that afternoon in the lounge of the hotel. He was a tall, lean, gray-haired man with a craggy face and looked as if he was in his early seventies. I had never seen him before.

“With no preamble I asked him what he wanted with me. He repeated what he had written in the letter, that he was a friend of Joe Anthony and knew about my affair with Joe twenty-three years earlier.

He told me I had used the name Genevive Brunot and that I had been a guest at the Hotel Gray d’Albion in Cannes.

“Naturally I denied everything. His response was cold. He said he was sure I would not want my husband to know about my adulterous affair, nor would I want aspersions cast on Ariel’s legitimacy. I took an indignant attitude, a haughty stance and countered that he was talking nonsense. I got up to leave.

“Sam Loring pressed me to stay and brought out an old photograph.

It was one of me and Joe Anthony taken at La Chunga all those years ago.

Joe had his arm around me. I was looking up at him and smiling.

I recognized at once that the photograph was definitely suggestive and therefore damaging. Sam Loring pointed out the date the photographer had stamped on the back of the picture. July 1960.1 felt trapped.

“I asked Loring what he wanted exactly. But I knew before he answered that he was after money. And, more than likely, a great deal of it. I also knew that if I paid him to be quiet now I was exposing myself to further blackmail later. On the other hand, what alternative did I have but to pay.

“Whilst Loring could never prove that Arid was not Edouard’s child, the date on the back of the picture, was damning, and this frightened me.