Darkest Longings (12 page)

to fret.’

‘I could always,’ Claudine said, as they rounded the top of

the hill and started the descent to the car, ‘ask Tante Celine

about Hortense. Or any other hostess in Paris, come to

that.’

‘Yes, you could,’ he acknowledged, ‘but I think you know

as well as I do that you won’t discover the truth from them.’

Claudine was silent then, and by the time they rounded

the bend in the drive leading to the chateau - rather more

sedately than they had driven down it, since Lucien was now

behind the wheel - she was so deep in thought that she

didn’t notice the large black Citroen parked outside the

door until Lucien pulled alongside it and casually remarked

that Francois had returned.

Her immediate impulse was to leap into the driving seat

and speed off into the sunset, but she somehow managed to

control herself, and walked round the car with studied calm.

‘Aren’t you coming inside?’ Lucien said.

‘I don’t think so,’ she answered casually, getting into the

driving seat and slamming the door. ‘Tante Celine will be

wondering what’s happened to me.’

‘You can always telephone.’

Realizing he was teasing her, she poked out her tongue.

Then, leaning forward to restart the engine, her hand

suddenly froze. She knew, even before she lifted her head, that he was there. She looked up, aware of the pulsating heat in her chest. He was standing on the steps of the chateau,

watching her. He seemed immense in the long, dark coat

that hung from his shoulders, and even at a distance the scar

on his face appeared livid and menacing. The smile faded

from her lips, and she was profoundly glad she was sitting

down, for every muscle in her body seemed to have turned

to jelly. Then, to her relief, Lucien was bounding up the

steps to greet his brother, slapping him on the back and

calling him all manner of insulting names.

By the time Francois turned back to her, Claudine was

fully in control of herself, and stepping as majestically as she

could from the car, she walked towards the brothers and

held out her hand to Francois.

Taking it, he said, ‘It is a pleasure to see you again.’

Biting hard on the sarcasm that was longing to spring

from her lips, she smiled and said, ‘Thank you. I trust your

stay in Paris was a pleasant one?’

‘Moderately so.’

His apparent indifference to the silence that followed,

coupled with his pointed failure to invite her inside,

inflamed her temper so that her cheeks started to burn with

it. ‘As I am clearly no longer welcome, perhaps I had better

go,’ she said - and immediately regretted the peevish

resentment in her voice.

‘Perhaps Lucien would like to see you back to your car.’

Francois nodded to his brother, then turned on his heel and

started back up the steps to the chateau.

‘Francois!’ As he turned, she thought she caught a flicker

of amusement pass between the brothers, but she was too

angry to care. ‘I would like you to see me to my car, if it’s not

too much trouble,’ she snapped.

Sensing that his presence was no longer required, Lucien

disappeared inside the chateau while, stuffing his hands into

his trouser pockets, Francois strolled lazily back down the

steps. He stood in front of her, gazing down into her eyes.

‘You have every right to expect an apology for my lack of

communication this week,’ he said, surprising her so much

that she actually jumped. ‘And naturally, I do apologize. It is

my intention to call on you first thing tomorrow, so that

perhaps we may get to know one another a little better. As

for my manners, I hope you will find them a little less

offensive than when we last met. For that I apologize also.’

‘And for the way you snubbed me a moment ago?’

His austere face became even more unsightly as he drew

his heavy brows together. ‘Again, I must ask your forgiveness.

But you seemed so relaxed in my brother’s company,

and so appalled when you saw me, that I have to confess I

was jealous. Childish of me, I know, but there it is.’

‘You are a liar!’ she declared. ‘You couldn’t give a damn

… Where are you taking me?’ she demanded, as he slipped

a hand under her arm and started to walk her away from the

chateau.

‘To your car, of course,’ he answered.

‘Don’t patronize me!’ she shouted, wrenching herself

from his grip.

‘Am I to spend the entire afternoon apologizing,

Claudine?’

She wanted to sting him with words, to kick him even, but

his use of her name had a sudden, deeply disturbing effect

on her, and for a moment she was powerless.

‘Let me tell you,’ he said, as he opened her car door. ‘You

are every bit as beautiful with your hair spilling about your

face like that, and with no make-up and no stockings on, as

you were the first time I met you. So you are wrong to say I

couldn’t give a damn. I would have to be either insensate or

dead to remain impervious to you.’

She was so stunned that she could do nothing more than

slide speechlessly into her car.

‘I will send the chauffeur to collect you at Montvisse

tomorrow. We shall take out the horses. You do ride, I take

it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would eight o’clock be too early?’

‘No.’

‘Then I shall look forward to the pleasure of your

company.’

Dumbly she started the engine as he walked away.

‘Francois,’ she called, as he started to mount the steps.

He turned back, the thick line of his brows raised in mild

irritation.

‘Thank you for the compliment.’

‘It was nothing.’

And it wasn’t until she reached the end of the drive that

she realized that that was precisely what he meant.

Francois found Lucien in the dining-room, helping himself

to fruit from the generous bowl on the huge mahogany table.

The long windows at the far end of the room looked out over

the steep meadow at the front of the chateau, and in the

distance, through the trees, he could see Claudine’s car as

she drove along the forest road towards Chinon. Charolais

cows were grazing in the shade of the forest, and two

gardeners marched back and forth across the bank, cutting

the grass.

The dining-room was a large room, but the wood

panelled walls, frescoed ceiling and worn rococo furniture

gave it a feeling of intimacy, as did the paintings depicting

scenes from the de Rassey de Lorvoire military past, and the

crumbling stone fireplace, which at this time of year was

regularly filled with fresh flowers. It was the room where the

family took all their meals, including breakfast, and Lucien

and Francois often came here to talk.

‘So,’ Francois said, closing the door behind him, ‘I am

glad to see you looking so well, Lucien.’ He sat on one of the

high-backed dining chairs and stretched out his long legs to

rest his feet on the table. ‘What brings you home?’ he

enquired, as he reached out to pull a grape from the bunch

closest to him. ‘If my information serves me correctly, the

Spanish war is far from over.’

‘Your information is correct. The Basque country is

having a pretty rough time of it just now.’ Lucien shrugged,

then bit into an apple. ‘The Nationalists will win, of

course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Don’t you care?’

‘The only thing that concerns me is that my brother might

lose his life fighting on the losing side.’

‘But it would be all right for me to die if I were on the

winning side?’

‘Lucien, if you are asking for my permission to die, then I

withhold it, unconditionally.’

‘Then, to oblige you, monfrere, I shall do my best to stay

alive. But the fight continues, and I shall remain on the side

of those whose cause I judge to be worthy.’

‘Very commendable. And if France should need you?’

‘Then of course it would be my patriotic duty to return to

my regiment.’

‘A soldier and a patriot. You put me to shame, Lucien.’

At that Lucien gave a shout of laughter. ‘Shame! You

don’t know the meaning of the word, Francois. But tell me,

do you think France will have need of its army?’

‘If you’re asking me whether there will be a war in

Europe, then how could I possibly know?’

‘Because, Francois, you know everything. And you have

been seen only this week at both the Elysee Palace and the

Foreign Office.’

‘From both of which I obtained some satisfactory orders

for our wine.’

Lucien grinned. Francois always had been a difficult

person to hold a straightforward conversation with, but he

had always enjoyed their verbal sparring sessions. ‘And no

doubt a wealth of information the Germans would kill for,’

he remarked mildly.

Francois raised his eyebrows, then popped another grape

into his mouth. ‘I don’t know where you get such notions,

Lucien. Who in their right mind is going to give such

information to the proprietor of a vineyard? And even if they

should, what on earth could I be expected to do with it?’

‘Oh, I’m sure you’d find something, Francois. Now, is

there going to be a war?’

‘Some say so, yes. But perhaps not for a year or two.

Hitler isn’t quite ready for us yet.’

‘So we are just going to sit and wait for him?’

‘Would you prefer that France declared war? I can assure

you, she would be extremely foolish to do so. Apart from

anything else, she is quite unprepared.’

Lucien thought about that for a while, then said, ‘Her

defence is shaping up.’

Francois shifted in his chair. ‘If you are referring to our

new ministry and its plans for the extension of the Maginot

Line, I can tell you that Hitler and Goering make jokes at

the dinner table about it. And so, might I add, do certain

Frenchmen.’

‘You being one of them?’

‘In the right company, yes. After all, it is quite amusing

when you consider that as long ago as ‘34 it was known that

Germany had ninety-three flights of first-line aircraft fourteen

hundred planes. How many do you suppose they

have now? More to the point, how many do you suppose we have?’

‘Do you really hold your own country in such contempt,

Francois?’ Lucien said, taking a last bite from his apple

before pitching it into the coal-scuttle.

‘It is difficult not to when there are so many dunderheads

running it.’

‘And if France does go to war, will you fight?’

‘I shall do everything in my power to avoid it. So I’m

afraid, mon frere, that preserving the military honour and

glory of the family name is up to you.’

‘As the continuance of the family name is up to you?’

Lucien countered.

Francois held his eyes for a moment, then looking away,

he plucked another grape and rolled it between his fingers.

At last he said in a low voice, ‘You have brought the information?’

Lucien nodded.

Francois’ eyes were gleaming as he threw the grape into

his mouth and heaved himself to his feet. ‘You trusted no

one else to bring it?’

‘It wasn’t a matter of trust. In the wrong hands that

information could be lethal -I couldn’t, wouldn’t ask anyone

else to risk his life for it. Not when I have no idea what you

intend to do with it.’

‘I don’t ask questions, Lucien, and neither should you.’

They both turned as the door in the far corner opened

and Fabienne, one of the young kitchen-maids, came in.

‘Oh, messieurs? she said, obviously startled to see them

there. ‘I am sorry, I shall go away.’ She started to turn, but

then remembering why she had come, said, ‘I must set the

table for dinner, messieurs.’

‘We were just leaving,’ Lucien smiled, allowing his eyes

to linger on the firm breasts straining against the thin cotton

of her uniform.

With cold detachment, Francois watched the agonized

lust that burned in Fabienne’s eyes as she too allowed her

gaze to wander over Lucien’s handsome body. Francois had

seen his brother provoke such a reaction in countless

women; once it had amused him, now it merely bored him.

‘If you’re going to put the silly wretch out of her misery,’

he told his brother when Fabienne had left them, ‘might I

suggest you take her to your room this time? Papa tells me

Jean-Paul has still not recovered from last time, when he

found you in such a compromising position with whateverher-name-was.’

‘Carlotta. And I can assure you, Francois, Jean-Paul’s

embarrassment was nothing compared to mine. After all,

what sort of fellow is it that enjoys being found with his

trousers about his knees?’

‘And what sort of fellow is it, Lucien, that seduces

kitchen-maids in the pantry?’

‘One who was dragged there in the first place!’

Francois laughed, and placing a hand on his brother’s

shoulder, said, ‘I’m going to spend an hour with Papa before

dinner, and you strike me as though you might benefit from

a cold bath.’