Dark Memories (The Phantom Diaries, #2) (18 page)

“We’re home.”
 
He beamed with pride.

A small glimpse of the chateau in the distance took my breath away.

“Prepare to be treated like a princess.”

Chapter 16

The home seemed to stretch out as far as I could see. Pristine and white, with several turrets, I could not even fathom growing up in such a home.
 
The property was larger than the entire neighborhood I’d spent my childhood in.
 
Fountains, flowers and neatly trimmed shrubs hemmed the home in.

“Feeling nervous?” Aaron asked. He opened my door and helped me out, his eyes directed at the ruby cross that hung on the delicate chain around my neck.
 

I’d not even realized I was fingering it, but as I stepped out of the car, I found my fingers reluctant to release it.

Aaron took my hand and led me down the walkway that led around the house.

“Don’t fret.
 
My family will love you.
 
Maman
is a sweet woman with a warm heart, while my uncle Jean Paul is a dry jokester.
 
He’s my father’s youngest brother and has been living here ever since my father passed away.
 
Keeps
Maman
company
and helps immensely with the tending of the grounds.”

My sudden case of nerves had nothing to do with his family. A chill had swept over me the moment we’d crossed the gates, and the cool wind had only increased as we’d approached the expansive home.

“Annette,” Aaron said, his voice suddenly filled with concern. He stopped and turned to me, his hands keeping a firm grip of mine. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.”
I forced a smile and tried to sound convincing.

“You're deathly pale.” He brought the back of his hand to my forehead.
 
“It’s cold enough to snow yet you're burning up.”

“I’m sorry. I guess meeting your family does have me a little more unnerved than I’d expected. It’s not every day a girl from the bayou waltzes into a French chateau. What’s the protocol? What etiquette? How do I call your
maman
? Do I look alright?”

In his reassuring and professional way, Aaron smiled and chuckled lightly. “
Maman
is not the queen and you can simply call her Francoise.
 
And you look absolutely delightful.”
 
He gave my hand a playful shake up. “Worry not, my love.”

Francoise and Jean Paul were in the midst of lunch, but Francoise quickly set aside her plate and greeted me with all the charm and warmth her frail little body allowed.

“Aaron,” she said.
“
Quelle surprise
.
I thought you’d only be here tomorrow.”

“
Bonjour, maman
.”
 
Aaron was suddenly a boy again as he hugged and kissed his mother.
 
The moment was touching and I was surprised to see this side of him. Gone was the strong businessman who made quick decisions and controlled millions in deals. He was simply his mother’s boy, happy to be home.

“You both must be eager for a good meal. I’ll have Marguerite bring out additional plates.”

After a brief but hearty lunch spiced with amusing stories of Aaron’s youth, Aaron excused us from the table and we returned to the car to retrieve our bags. With a grand sweep of his arm, he opened the majestic front door and we entered his house.

“I’ll show you to your rooms.”
 

I followed him upstairs, but when he stopped to set his bags down in the hall I continued and turned to take the hall that led to the east wing. The air was lightly scented with spices, bringing about a sense of comfort and familiarity. Drawn to the third door to the right, I put my hand to the doorknob and turned.

Aaron’s hand was soon over mine, keeping me from opening the door. “You certainly know your way around.”

His comment shook me out of my internal reverie of the home I’d never visited before. I gazed at my hand on the doorknob and wondered why I’d chosen this door. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I looked more closely at the corridor behind me. Though the colors were different as were a few paintings and side tables, the walls, the doors, the light entering the hall through the stairwell all brought vivid memories.

I knew the door beside mine held a grand suite that was reserved for important guests.
 
At the end of the hall, two doors beyond mine was a small boudoir that had always been decorated in sun yellow.
 
It overlooked a particularly colorful area of the flower garden and was always a delight to sit in.

Aaron pushed the door open and I wasn’t surprised to see the delicate periwinkle blue of the romantic room.
 
Filled with antiques and fine paintings, the room carried the aura of centuries past.

Who’d slept here before? What dramas had transpired here?

“This is beautiful,” I managed to say. “I’ve never seen such fine antiques.”

“Virtually everything is as it has always been.
 
This estate has been a part of our family for centuries.”

My steps led me to the window and I knew before I arrived what I’d see. The beauty of the French countryside was at my fingertips.

“I’ll give you a few moments to settle in then I’ll bring you on the grand tour.”

Alone in the room, I released the tension that had been building to the point of nearly exploding.
 
Confused by the familiarity I felt to my surroundings, I anxiously awaited Aaron’s return.

After hastily shoving my clothes into the drawers and hanging a few things in the closet, I sat on the edge of the bed and fidgeted.
 
It didn’t feel right being here. I couldn’t point my finger on the crux of the problem, but there was something. I thought of Kristine then just as quickly shoved all thoughts of her aside.

“Ready to go.”
Aaron poked his head in and grinned.

I let his excitement fill me and followed him out to the riding path.

“Your uncle is quite a character,” I said as I strolled slowly by Aaron’s side. “Has he always been so funny?”

 
“Always had
me
cracking up as a boy, though my father never found him so amusing.”

“Did you really go off to school wearing one of your mother’s chemises?” I giggled at the image.

“He also has a way of embellishing,” Aaron said through a tight laugh. “I never actually made it to school with
Maman
’s chemise.
 
Fortunately my nanny caught my fashion
faux pas
and stopped me.”

My laughter was heartfelt and girlish, but I didn’t mind. It was too amusing seeing this side of him.

“And your mother is unbelievably charming.
 
So elegant.”

“She is loved by all who meet her.
 
And she was clearly delighted by you.”
 
Though I was pleased to hear I’d made a good impression, I felt a cold hand of wind push at my back.

“It’s beautiful out here Aaron. Why ever did you leave this marvelous corner of the world?”
 

The further behind we left the house, the more profound the chill became. As we entered what remained of the small forest, a blast of cold blew up my coat and left me feeling nude in the winter wind.

I hugged myself and Aaron was quick to pull me into the crook of his arm. “This fresh country air isn’t like the stifling air of New York.”

Smiling, I simply allowed his arms to warm me.

“Are you enjoying your visit?”

“It’s all so much to take in. Everything is so beautiful and so touched with history.
 
Walking here is like going through a history book.”

He pulled away and stooped down to pick up a small smooth stone. “This home has seen an awful lot of joy and tragedies over the years.
 
Jean Paul loved to tell me about his father and grandfather. Hopefully I’ll one day have a son to relay all these stories to.”

At a fork in the road, I took to the left.
 
Aaron glanced strangely at me, but said nothing.
 
Playing with his stone, he threw it from one hand to the other. In peaceful silence, we walked on until we reached a sharp incline that brought us to a windswept cliff top.
 
Over the tops of the bare trees we could make out the elaborate home in the distance.

“Bringing back any memories?” Aaron asked.

Taken aback, I looked at him and tried not to gape. “You're the one with the fond memories, remember?”

“And what do you remember?”

“Aaron, I’ve never been here before. I’ve never even been to France. I have no memories of this place. None of this is familiar.”

“Really?”
His eyes definitely read of skepticism.

“Really.”
My voice came out a little more defensive and argumentative than I’d intended.

“You knew which room to go to.”

I shrugged, refusing to accept where he was driving this conversation.

“You automatically turned to the left at the fork back there.”

“Left.
Right.
I had to choose one,” I said with pragmatic logic.
 
“I could just as well have taken the right.”

“But you took to the left. And the left led us to this very spot.”

I gave him a quizzical look that was quickly becoming irritated. “What’s special about this spot?”

“What does Kristine say about it?”

I gasped and my hand went to the ruby cross as I swayed on my feet. Thoroughly confused and afraid to find out more, I turned to look at Aaron. Where was this line of questioning leading us?
 
“What did you say?”

“Kristine no doubt remembers this particular portion of the riding path.”

“But…”

“Hasn’t she told you that this is where Rupert was to be killed?”

“Aaron…”
 
Baffled, I couldn’t say more.

“Did she not share with you the plot she’d so meticulously put into play?”

“What are you saying?”

“Kristine did take over you, did she not?”

“I thought…”

“Of course I believed you’d been possessed.
 
I’m not blind, Annette.”
 
His smile was warm and reassuring. “I’d come to know you quite well the weeks prior. You were demure, naïve, at times reserved. While I knew you had a depth of sensuality lying beneath this shy façade, the wildcat that exploded into your dressing room could never be you.”

“You knew?”

“I suspected.”

A chill shook me. “I don’t enjoy being here,” I said, pointing to the ground. “Could we move on?”

He nodded and led me to an outcrop of rocks where we could sit and enjoy the view that went on for miles.

“I found Rupert’s journals a while back and have been spending many evenings reading through them. His mention of Kristine is intense and frequent. His love for her is mentioned in virtually every entry. She drew something out of him and he felt powerless to fight it.
 
Some of his entries were filled with the love and passion he had for her. The visions of the future he foresaw.
 
He wanted to give her the world and was prepared to do virtually anything to make her happy. But increasingly his entries were tortured and pained.”