Darkest Longings (39 page)

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Authors: Susan Lewis

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance

BOOK: Darkest Longings
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‘How did he find out?’

‘How the hell do I know? It must have been something

you did or said.’ She waved away his attempts to defend

himself. ‘I don’t care about that. All that matters is that

you’re of no more use to me. Just thank God that baby didn’t

die, or I should have lost Francois for good. And you,

Philippe…’

‘But that was what you sent me there for - to get rid of the

child,’ he snarled.

‘But since you let Francois know who you were working

for,’ she snarled back, ‘it was just as well you didn’t succeed,

wasn’t it? Now, you can start saying your prayers that when I

tell him I knew nothing about the fall, he believes me because

if he doesn’t, I swear you’ll go out of this clinic in a

coffin.’

His top lip curled in an ugly sneer. ‘Same old Elise,’ he

spat. ‘But you don’t frighten me with your threats …’

His scream of agony reverberated through the corridors

as she wrenched back the toes of his broken leg. ‘You’re

finished,’ she hissed, as an army of nurses came running.

‘You’ll never work again, Philippe Mauclair, do you hear

me? And if Francois wants to know where to find you, be in

no doubt that I shall tell him.’

Still wincing with pain, Philippe watched her stalk out of

the ward, and for a fleeting moment remembered the time

when that proud, sashaying little rump had been exposed for

his pleasure - his recruitment fee. But then her parting

words came thundering back to his brain, and the throbbing

in his leg became unbearable. He knew that his only

protection from Francois de Lorvoire was Rudolf von

Liebermann, and he hoped to God that the man sent

 

someone soon. With equal fervour, he hoped it wouldn’t be

that bastard Halunke.

When Elise returned to her apartment she found

Francois waiting for her. He was standing at the window,

wearing his heavy black coat and Homburg hat. His hands

were stuffed into his pockets and his dark, aquiline face

bore an expression of murderous, though carefully controlled,

rage. He waited until the door had closed behind

her, then turning from the window, he said, ‘There is a

part of me that would like to kill you, Elise, and make no

mistake, if my child had died I wouldn’t hesitate. I

perfectly understand why you wanted to kill it, and I also

understand that you hoped to deprive me of my wife at the

same time. I will make you no threats - you know me well

enough to appreciate the danger you have now put yourself

in - but I do strongly advise you not to try again. And I give

you my solemn vow, Elise, that no matter what happens to

Claudine, you will never be the Comtesse de Lorvoire.’ He

raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face. ‘Never!’ And he walked out of the room.

It took a few moments for her head to stop spinning, but

then, with surprising calmness, Elise crossed to the window.

By the time Francois emerged from the building into

the street below, a knowing smile had settled on her lips.

He’d be back - if for no other reason than that she knew

too much about him for him to have her as an enemy. And

as for his vow that she would never become the Comtesse

de Lorvoire … Here her lips did tremble and a look of

pain crossed her face. But once she had devised an

efficient way of disposing of The Bitch, she could use her

knowledge, to blackmail him into marrying her. Francois

de Lorvoire was a traitor to his country, and she knew it,

and would make good use of the power that knowledge

gave her.

 

The following week, at four o’clock in the afternoon,

Francois met Rudolf von Liebermann in the garden of the

General’s Muncheberg home. Max Helber was there too,

and since they had already exchanged perfunctory

greetings, Francois came straight to the point. ‘It is my

belief,’ he said, ‘that should the Fuihrer wish to take the

Sudetenland he will meet with little resistance from the

Allies.’

‘Your belief?’ Helber repeated, with marked cynicism.

Von Liebermann put a hand or Helber’s arm. The Wine

Supplier would never reveal his sources, and Helber should

know by now that de Lorvoire always prefaced his intelligence

reports in that fashion. ‘How little is little?’ he asked. ‘There will be a show of protest, naturally,’ Francois answered, ‘but it will be no more than that. Neither country

wants a war - particularly France.’

‘Yet France has deployed a number of her factories for

rearmament,’ von Liebermann pointed out.

‘She is also about to call up her reservists,’ Francois told

him, unperturbed.

Von Liebermann nodded. He already knew that. ‘Do you

have details of these factories?’

‘Yes.’

Von Liebermann glanced at his watch. ‘I have an

appointment at four thirty. Afterwards I am meeting with

the Foreign Minister. You will give the information to Max,

who will bring it to me before I see von Ribbentrop.’

Francois nodded, then wandered on through the garden

while von Liebermann took Helber to one side.

‘You have the information he requires in return?’ von

Liebermann asked. ‘That is good. We shall see what he can

do with it. My belief is, nothing.’

Helber smiled, and von Liebermann patted his arm.

Turning to leave, he remembered there was something else

he had to say concerning the Wine Supplier. ‘I have had a

 

request from Halunke. He wants to make contact with the

Pascale woman personally. I see no reason why he

shouldn’t, do you?’

‘Is there any danger that she might recognize him?’

‘Halunke assures me not.’

‘Then I see no objection.’

‘Good. Give him the authorization.’

Helber waited until von Liebermann’s chauffeur had

closed the car door before turning to follow Francois to the

end of the garden. ‘Shall we go inside?’ he said affably.

Francois eyed him with distaste; he would have preferred

to remain outdoors but he knew Helber would not allow it,

so he nodded curtly and followed him into the dark, oak

panelled library.

Here, Helber handed over the documents he and von

Liebermann had prepared as an exchange for the information

Francois was about to supply. Helber’s cherubic face

was smiling. He was afraid of the Wine Supplier, but would

never let it show, and besides, being the kind of man he was,

his fear only made what he was about to do all the more

pleasurable.

He remained standing at the desk as Francois settled into

a chair and started to read. Helber watched him, his body

beginning to tremble with lust. He had never come across a

man who exuded such potent sexuality as Francois de

Lorvoire, and he had promised himself that one day, when

the time was right, he would have him. But for now he had to content himself with taking his penis from his trousers so that he could fondle himself under the gaze of those darkly

hooded eyes.

Knowing precisely what Helber was doing, Francois

continued to read to the end of the documents before

looking up and asking Helber to clarify several points.

Helber answered, and they continued to conduct their

meeting as though both men were as composed as Francois.

 

Francois knew that he would have to stay until Helber ejaculated, for it was Helber’s way to hold back a vital piece of information until he had climaxed. So he waited, watching the man’s rumblings with a cold detachment - if

he turned away it would only lengthen the process.

Sometimes, he thought, as Helber’s eyes began to roll back

in their sockets and the sweat oozed from his face, the price

of obtaining information was almost too high. But when

Helber finally handed him the last paper, he was in no doubt

that on this occasion it had been worth waiting for.

14

Nothing in the world could have prepared Claudine for the

way she felt when her baby boy was put into her arms. Her

skin was still coated with sweat, her hair plastered to her

head, but she was conscious only of the beautiful, puckered

little face with its mop of inky-black hair and anger

reddened cheeks. Even the indescribable agony of the past

twelve hours was forgotten, and laughing at her son’s

furious objection to being tugged so unceremoniously into

the world, she surprised everyone by pushing aside her

nightgown and putting his mouth to her nipple. Almost

immediately he started to suckle. She stared down at him,

mesmerized by the perfection of his tiny limbs. Then her

heart stood still as his eyes suddenly opened and he seemed

to look straight into her own.

‘Mon Dieu!’ she breathed. Then she looked up at Doctor

Lebrun and burst into tears …

Later, she slept. When she woke the doctor and midwife

had gone, and Francois was sitting on the edge of the bed.

He was holding his son, and was apparently engrossed in the

way he was opening and closing his eyes. Claudine lay

 

quietly watching them, captivated by the comparison

between Francois’ big hand and the tiny head it cradled. It

was the first time she had ever seen her husband not perfectly in control of a situation. Even now he seemed to be coping remarkably well, but the expression on his face

suggested that his son’s presence in the world was having a

profound effect upon him.

After a time she reached out a hand and pulled aside the

baby’s blanket so that she too could see his face. As she

gazed down at him she could feel Francois’ eyes on her, but

she wouldn’t allow herself to look up in case he said

something to spoil the moment. In the end it was the baby

who broke the silence, and Claudine couldn’t help laughing at the look of horror that came over Francois’ face.

‘I think he’s hungry,’ she told him.

‘Of course,’ he said, clearly amused by his own stupidity.

He placed the baby carefully in her arms. ‘Shall I call

Magaly?’ he offered.

‘Why?’

‘For his milk.’

‘But I have it here,’ she said, starting to smile. This was

the first time, too, that she had ever seen Francois

embarrassed.

‘I’m afraid I have no experience of babies,’ he said

awkwardly. ‘Would you like me to leave the room while you

feed him?’

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to go or not.

‘Only if you want to.’

He too seemed undecided, but then Magaly came in and

he left.

‘Is monsieur happy?’ Magaly asked, when the door had

closed behind him.

Claudine thought for a moment. ‘I think so. When did he

arrive?’

‘About an hour before the baby.’

 

‘Did he come up at all? I mean, while it was happening?’

Magaly shook her head, and Claudine’s face hardened

for a moment. ‘Have you seen Armand?’ she asked then.

‘I went to Liliane’s as soon as the baby arrived, to give her

the news. Armand is still in Tours, but she expects him

home soon.’

Claudine looked down at the baby and a lump rose in her

throat preventing her from saying any more.

Later, Francois came back. The baby was asleep in his

cradle, and after gazing down at him for a time he said,

‘Words seem inadequate at a time like this, but I want to

thank you. He’s a fine son.’

‘Isn’t he?’ she smiled. Then, for no apparent reason, she

remembered the necklace he had given her on her birthday.

‘There was a time, a few months ago, when I wanted to

thank you.”

‘Oh?’

‘For the necklace. The one you left on the table for me.’

She watched him as he turned back to the cradle. ‘Where

is it now?’ she ventured, when it was evident he wasn’t going

to speak.

‘I presumed, when you didn’t mention it, that you didn’t

want it,’ he answered. ‘So I gave it to someone else.’

An icy heat flared in the pit of her stomach, and she

turned away before he could see her eyes.

‘I take it from your reaction,’ he said, ‘that I made a

mistake.’

‘Not at all,’ she answered quickly. Then, unable to stop

herself, she said, ‘Did she like it? The woman you gave it to,

did she like the necklace?’

‘As a matter of fact, she didn’t say, but I imagine she did.

Naturally, if there’s anything you want by way of replacement

you have only to ask.’

‘There’s nothing, thank you,’ she said, and picked up the

pile of telegrams she had been reading when he came in.

 

A few minutes later he said, ‘The baby will be baptized

Louis Francois.’

She looked up. ‘Is the matter open for discussion?’

‘No. You already know that the first-born son of the de

Lorvoires is called either Louis or Francois. Each generation

alternates, so our son will be Louis.’

‘And if I want to call him after my father?’

‘We should be obliged to have another child for that. But

as I have every intention of keeping to my promise, that’s

unlikely. The sexual side of our marriage is now over.’

He looked at her, and when she saw the expression in his

eyes her heart suddenly swelled in her chest. She stared

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