Darkest Longings (56 page)

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Authors: Susan Lewis

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BOOK: Darkest Longings
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sanity. You have to let me go, Claudine. You have to.’

‘No, Armand! Stop saying these things.’

 

‘Claudine, please think about what this is doing to me. I

can’t go on making love to you knowing that all the time

you’re thinking of him. You must try to accept that it’s

because you love and want him so desperately that you can’t

dispel him from your mind even when …’

‘That’s.not true,’ she said fiercely. ‘I’ve told you how

things were between us. He didn’t bother to hide his

distaste even at having to touch me.’

‘But was it so distasteful for you?’

She drew breath to speak, then lowered her eyes to her

hands. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Yes, it was.’

‘Look me in the eye and tell me that. Tell me that it was

you who brought that side of your marriage to an end.’

‘Does it matter which of us brought it to an end?’ she

cried. ‘The fact is, Francois loves someone else. He’s been

sleeping with Elise Pascale since before we were married!

He loves her so much that now he’s abandoned his own sob

and gone away to Germany with her! How can you believe I

could either want or love a man who has treated me like

that?’

Armand smiled. ‘Very easily,’ he said. ‘And perhaps now

is the time to tell you that he didn’t take Elise Pascale to

Germany with him as you suspect. In fact, his affair with her

is over.’

His words seemed to hit her a stultifying blow. Suddenly,

she felt as though every ounce of energy she possessed was

being wrung from her limbs. ‘How do you know that?’ she

breathed.

‘Louis told me, just after he received the letter from

Francois.’

‘Why didn’t he tell me?’

‘Because with Francois being in Germany, with the

future so uncertain, he though it would only make things

worse for you.’

They were strange, the feelings that were running amok

 

through her body. She felt dizzy, disoriented. Outwardly

she was calm, but inside the feelings were beating at her

heart, drumming at her mind. She must try to understand

what they were telling her.

He hadn’t taken her. He hadn’t taken Elise Pascale to

Germany, he had gone alone. But didn’t that only make it

worse? Because though he had given up his mistress, he had

still tried to give her, his wife, to another man. So ending his

liaison with Elise had made no difference at all. Still he

didn’t want her. And she would rather die than admit she

wanted him, even though every fibre of her body was crying

out for him.

Hardly knowing what she was doing, she got up from the

table and put a shaking hand on Armand’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m truly sorry - for everything.’

‘There’s

no need to be,’ he said, rising too and taking her

in his arms. ‘I’m just glad I was there for a while to ease your

loneliness.’

‘And I yours?’ she said.

‘Oh yes. You certainly did that. But now I feel more lonely

when I’m with you than I do when we’re apart.’ He pulled

her head from his shoulder and looked into her eyes. ‘Are

you ready to admit now that you love him?’

‘No,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Why?’

‘Because I can’t. Because I can hardly think of him

without wanting to scream, or cry, or … I don’t know. I

don’t understand the way I feel. We’ve never shared even a

moment of affection, yet …’ She looked away. ‘I can’t,

Armand. It’s as if there’s something deep inside me, so deep

and so powerful that… I don’t know… All I know is that it

frightens me and that I’ve got to keep it buried.’

She moved away and went to stand at the window. ‘I knew

the day I married him the way I felt about him, but then I

 

thought, after the way he made love to me that night… He

was so cruel, so unfeeling, and yet, you’re right, the desire

didn’t go away. It’s never gone away. But I’ve tried to bury it,

along with the pain. It was the only way I knew how to

survive my marriage. He never wanted a wife, he made that

plain from the start, and he wanted me to despise him as he

despises me - so I did. Then, when I met you, and you were

so kind, so gentle and caring… I truly believed that it was

you I wanted, you I loved. But I suppose now, looking back,

that all I wanted, even then, was that Francois … That

seeing me with another man, he would …’

She shrugged, but there were tears on her cheeks. ‘He

didn’t care, though. His only concern was that the child I

was carrying was his. And after Louis was born, when I saw

the tenderness in his eyes every time he looked at him …

Oh, Armand you don’t know how I’ve longed for him to look

at me like that. I’m guilty of being jealous of my own son

because his father loves him, can you imagine? But I still

hate him, Armand. And it’s that hatred that will keep me

together, that will stop me from throwing myself at him and

begging him to love me. Because that’s what I want to do.

I’ve failed in every other way, and now I want to beg him…

But I’ll never do it, because if I did I’d end up despising

myself as much as he does.’

She sat down then, and buried her face in her hands.

‘He’s a traitor, and a murderer, I know that, so why can’t I

make myself believe it? Why can’t I just accept the fact that

he doesn’t love me, and get on with my life? It’s as though he

has some kind of hold over me, as though he won’t let go of

me. But that’s not true! I’m the one who won’t let go - and I must. Yet even as I say all these things, I still don’t know what to do. It’s as if I’m drowning. As if someone has pushed me

from dry land and now I’m being submerged by waves I can

do nothing to control. But I will control them, Armand. I

will! And the only way I can do that is to deny, to ignore,

 

everything that’s happening inside me. So please, Armand,

don’t force me into saying something I just can’t allow

myself to feel.’

When she had finished there was a long, long silence.

The rain had stopped, and the only sounds were of water

running from the guttering into the barrels beneath, and

the fire crackling in the hearth. She had said a great deal,

much more than she had intended, but she could not allow

herself to go any further. So many times in the past she had

opened herself to receive his love - the day she married

him, the day Louis was born, the night of the July ball and

on each of those - and on others too painful to recall he

had pushed her away. She couldn’t let that happen

again.

Armand’s voice seemed to come from a great distance as

he spoke into the darkness. ‘You’re only making it worse by

hiding from it.’

‘Maybe you’re right,’ she sighed. ‘But I don’t know any

other way. How can I even begin to understand my feelings

when they just don’t make sense? But I suppose that trying

to tie love to logic is like trying to pin the sun to the moon.

Once in a while they will meet, but even then one will always

eclipse the other.’

‘You shouldn’t try to make sense of the way you are

feeling,’ he said. ‘You should simply accept it. Maybe then

you can decide what to do.’

‘Hasn’t he made that decision for me?’

‘Only if you let him.’

She turned in her chair to face him, and her heart

contracted as she saw the tears on his cheeks.

‘No, don’t look at me, Claudine,’ he said, hiding his face.

‘I don’t want you to see me like this.’

She started to get up, but he held out his arm to keep her

away. ‘Don’t touch me,’ he sobbed. ‘Please, just leave me

alone now.’

 

‘But Armand …’

‘I’ve tried to be strong for you,’ he wept, ‘but I can’t take

any more. I can’t listen to any more.’

‘I’m sorry!’ she said. ‘Oh my God, I didn’t think. I…’

‘No, you didn’t, did you?’ he said. ‘Because all you’ve ever

thought about is him. Well, I can’t live in his shadow any

longer. Find him, wherever he is, and go to him. I don’t want

you near me. I can’t stand you looking at me with those

accusing eyes, hating me because I’m not him.’

‘I’ve never done that!’ she cried.

‘Oh, but you have. And me, pathetic, used little man that I

am…’

‘I’ve never used you!’

‘For Christ’s sake! What do you think you’ve been doing

here today? You’ve used me from the start. You admitted as

much yourself: you wanted to make him jealous. But it

didn’t work, did it? But even then you couldn’t bear to be

alone, so you kept coming. But what would have happened if

he’d lifted just one finger to call you back to him? You’d have

gone! You’d have left me as cruelly as he left you. You’re two

of a kind, you and Francois, Claudine. You deserve one

another. But don’t ever forget what happened to Hortense.

She paid the price of loving him, and she paid it with her life.

Now get your coat, because I’m taking you back to the

chateau for the last time.’

She was dumbfounded, and could only stare at him. At

last she got up from the chair and lifted her coat from the

bed. ‘Armand,’ she said, as they started out into the forest.

‘Armand, you’re wrong, you know. I did love you. Perhaps

not in the way you wanted me to, but I’d never have left you

the way you say I would. Armand, I couldn’t bear it if we

parted like this.’

‘Oh, you’ll learn to live with it,’ he said bitterly. ‘Just as

you’ve learned to live with Francois’ rejection. You’ll bury it

all, as though none of it has happened. And if anyone

reminds you of it a few years from now, you’ll shudder with revulsion at the idea that you allowed your husband’s vigneron even to come near you. And where will I be? I’ll be there, tending the vines, looking after your estate and you

won’t even be able to bring yourself to speak to me.’

‘That’s not true!’ she cried. ‘I don’t know why you’re

saying all these things.’

He drew breath to speak, but she put her hand over his

mouth. ‘No, stop! Please, stop it now, before we both say

things we’ll only regret later.’

He shoved her hand away. ‘Are you giving me orders, madam?’ he sneered.

‘Armand! What’s got into you? Just now you were so…’

She shook her head. ‘I understand that you’re hurting, that

it’s all my fault, but I had no idea you were capable of such

bitterness.’

He closed his eyes, ‘I’m not,’ he growled, his voice thick

with self-disgust. ‘I’m not even capable of that. But I’m

trying to give myself something to hold onto.’ Suddenly he

clutched her to him and buried his face in her hair. ‘Don’t

desert me, Claudine!’ he sobbed. ‘Don’t leave me altogether,

because I don’t think I could bear it.’

22

Francois hadn’t really expected Paris to look any different

from the last time he’d seen it, but seven months is a long

time, and he was relieved, and in some way comforted, to

find that the city hadn’t changed. Perhaps there were many

more bicycles than he remembered, a result of the petrol

rationing no doubt, but otherwise the tree-lined avenues,

the pavement cafes, the grey still waters of the Seine, the

hurrying people -unmistakably Parisians - were the same.

 

Inwardly he shuddered as he remembered Warsaw: the

smoking ruins, the terrified faces, the jackbooted German

soldiers as they looted the debris and beat innocent people

half to death. It all came so vividly to his mind that for a

moment it was as though it were happening right in front of

him. That Paris should suffer in that way was unthinkable.

He hoped to God that if it ever came to it, someone would

have the foresight to declare her an open city before the

Germans razed her glory to ashes.

As he drove past the Tuileries Gardens, heading towards

the Champs Elysees, he stole a quick glance at Erich von

Pappen who was sitting beside him, his peculiar face turned

towards the window. Von Pappen had been at the border to

meet him when he drove through at five o’clock that

morning in his own black Citroen, which von Liebermann

had returned the day before. Thank God von Pappen had

brought him a change of clothes, or he might still be wearing

the commandant’s uniform the Abwehr had supplied him

with before he left. Von Liebermann had insisted he wear it,

no doubt to titillate his own perverted sense of humour, as

very few members of the Abwehr wore uniform.

Once von Pappen had filled him in on what had been

happening while he was away, they had spent most of the

journey in silence. As yet neither had mentioned Elise, or

Francois’ family. Now as Francois swerved to avoid a cyclist

on the Place de la Concorde, von Pappen was the first to

break the silence.

‘Do you think you’ve gained their trust yet?’

‘Only they know the answer to that, mon ami.’ Francois

replied,

‘Max Helber tells me that they set you a test before you

left.’

‘Mmm.’ Francois’ hooded eyes narrowed, and von

Pappen felt rather than saw their virulence.

‘Did you pass?’

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