Darkest Longings (11 page)

time he is at Lorvoire.’

‘He will?’ Lucien said, highly entertained by this answer.

‘And when will that be?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t have the faintest idea. Francois has not

seen fit to communicate with me since he left for Paris last

Monday.’

‘Very remiss of him. Also very like him. But maybe it will

put your mind at rest to know that he is returning to

Lorvoire this evening.’

Claudine’s eyes closed as her stomach lurched

sickeningly. ‘This evening?’ she repeated, in a small voice. It

was one thing to have brave resolutions when he was so far

away, it was quite another when she was faced with carrying

them out so soon. ‘Your mother didn’t mention it,’ she said,

trying to sound indifferent.

‘That’s because she didn’t know. He telephoned early

this afternoon, while she and Monique were over at

Montvisse with you. I’d like to be able to tell you that he is

rushing back to be at your side, but I believe his unscheduled

return has a little more to do with my own

presence at the chateau.’

‘You are so gallant, Lucien,’ she said breezily.

‘The truth, Claudine,’ he said seriously, ‘always the truth

between us. What do you say?’

‘I’d like that very much,’ she answered with surprise, but

equal sincerity; and they smiled.

When they reached the top of the hill they stopped, and

Lucien draped an arm loosely about her shoulders as he pointed out the tiny houses below, the mairie and the cafe. She was glad of not having to speak. As they stood there, two lone figures at the top of the hill, ruffled gently by the breeze and embraced by the sun’s warmth, and she listened to Lucien telling her how he and Francois used to hide from their nanny in the forest, then row along the Vienne to the village where Sebastien St Jacques would scoop them up onto his horse and take them back to the chateau, she was aware of a deep feeling building inside her that was beyond words.

‘Over there.’ Lucien’s voice seemed suddenly louder,

and for a moment she was startled, and a little sad, to realize

that it wasn’t Francois standing there with her - Francois,

who hadn’t seen fit to share anything of his past with her.

Then in her mind’s eye she caught a glimpse of that cold,

brutal face, and realized she was in danger of confusing the

Francois of her imagination with the Francois of grim reality

- and her hands tightened in resentment. Quickly she

pulled herself together and looked to where Lucien was

pointing, at a large house partly hidden by the church.

‘That’s where Armand St Jacques lives,’ he told her, ‘old

Sebastien’s son. Armand is probably the closest friend Francois and I have.’

‘Then I’d like to meet him,’ Claudine said.

‘I doubt he’ll be there at this time of day,’ Lucien

answered, letting her go and starting to stroll on down the

hill. ‘He’ll be out checking the vines. He lives alone with his mother, Liliane. Armand’s wife died giving birth to their son, almost two years ago now, then his son died too. He

took their deaths very hard. He does nothing but work in the

wine caves and vineyards, or drink alone at the cafe. Even

Monique has trouble persuading him into the chateau these

days, and there was a time when he couldn’t refuse my sister

anything. Speaking of Monique,’ he said, making an

obvious effort to lighten the conversation, ‘Maman informs

me you’ve become the best of friends.’

‘Ah, well,’ Claudine said, ‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like

that myself. However, we shall be. One day. Now, come

along, I’m going to race you to the bottom of the hill.’ And

snatching the shoes off her feet, she sprinted on ahead of him.

Knowing he could outdistance her with the minimum of

effort, Lucien held back, watching as her long legs flew

through the grass, her red and grey checked skirt flapping

about her knees, her scarlet silk blouse ballooning out

behind her, her incredible hair rising on the wind.

He had hidden his surprise well when he first set eyes on

her, for nothing Francois had told him on the telephone had

prepared him for such incredible beauty - or such vivacity.

But most intriguing of all was the effect she was having on

him now. He had known her for barely more than half an

hour, hardly a serious word had passed between them, yet

for some reason he felt an overpowering protectiveness

towards her. But that was crazy. What did he want to protect

her from? His own brother?

Lucien frowned as he remembered Francois’ words.

‘She is not only vain, she is unspeakably trivial. She

entertains such disgusting notions of romance that I can

hardly bear to look at her. Far better that you had won the

toss, Lucien, for you would know what to do with her.

However, a pact is a pact, so you need have no fears about

me fulfilling my duty. Unless, of course, I can persuade her

to refuse me.’

Francois had never had much patience with women,

particularly those who fell in love with him. And looking at

Claudine through his brother’s eyes, Lucien could see that

beside the worldly sophistication of Elise Pascale, Claudine

might appear embarrassingly gauche. But there was more to

her than Francois gave her credit for - or would allow

himself to see. There was something that set her apart from

other women, and it wasn’t just her extraordinary beauty.

Everything about her seemed so natural, so lacking in

artifice - admittedly qualities that Francois might not

choose to find attractive - yet there was no denying she had a

quick, intelligent mind and a ready wit, and she emanated

such spirit, such tenacity, that Lucien was amazed that even

Francois could remain immune. And even La Pascale

couldn’t compete with the still youthful loveliness of that

face or the tender smoothness of that honey skin… He felt

suddenly saddened by the pain Francois would cause her,

the heartache and the loneliness she would have to suffer,

being married to a man like his brother. And because of the

kind of woman she was, he could already see the hopeless

struggle she would put up to make her marriage work. He

hoped she had the courage, the stamina, to survive.

‘Don’t think I don’t realize you’re letting me win!’ she

called back to him over her shoulder.

‘Of course I am!’ he shouted back.

As they were nearing the bottom of the hill, Claudine

stopped and flopped down on the grass, trying to catch her

breath. ‘You’re incorrigible, Lucien de Lorvoire,’ she

gasped as he sat down beside her, his breathing as steady as

if he had walked down the hill.

And you, he thought, looking at her with a sudden

blinding realization, are a virgin. Why that thought had struck him now, he had no idea, but unprompted though it was, he knew it to be true. He gazed into her eyes - and

suddenly he longed to be the one to take her, the one to

introduce that unbearably sensuous body to the pleasures of

love. To leave her to the indifference of Francois seemed a

crime … yet wasn’t it an even greater crime that he should

harbour such a thought after what had happened in the past?

When they were both of them, Francois most of all, still

paying the price for what had happened to Hortense?

‘Oh no, I’ve torn my stockings,’ Claudine complained,

running a finger over the ladder that was snaking along her

calf. ‘And again there! What a wreck I am! Oh, well, there’s

nothing else for it, I’ll simply have to take them off.’

Lucien’s eyes lit up, and leaning back on one elbow, he

snapped off a blade of grass and put it between his teeth,

ready to watch.

Claudine eyed him dangerously, and laughing, he rolled

onto his stomach while she unhooked her suspenders.

‘Is your father with you at Montvisse?’ he asked, gazing

through the columns of vines which spread across the

hillside in front of him.

‘Not at the moment, he’s in Paris. He’s coming back

sometime this week, though. Do you know him?’

‘Of course. I knew your mother too. You’re very like her.’

She gathered up her stockings and pushed them into her

skirt pocket. Then, sitting cross-legged facing him, she

said, ‘What about Francois? Did he know my mother?’

‘Yes. He was very fond of her as I remember.’

‘It’s strange, isn’t it?’ she mused. ‘I mean, how fond

Francois is of my parents when he seems to despise me.’

Lucien turned onto his back to look at her, and studied

her remarkable face for some time before, fighting back a

sudden surge of anger, he said, ‘It’s not you that Francois

despises. It’s …’

‘Yes?’ she prompted.

He sat up, and throwing away the blade of grass, he said,

‘There’s a lot you don’t know about Francois, Claudine. I

only wish you could have met him before…’

‘Before what?’

He looked at her as if in some way assessing her.

‘Obviously your father hasn’t told you,’ he said, and this

time she detected the anger in his voice. ‘But maybe Beavis

doesn’t know. I thought Francois had told him, had

explained, but…’

‘Explained what? Lucien, you’re talking in riddles.’ Then

she cried out as he suddenly grasped her shoulders, and his

frown was so like Francois’ that she found herself cowering

away.

‘Why are you marrying him, Claudine?’ he growled.

‘Why?’

‘Lucien, you’re hurting me!’

‘Why?’ he repeated, tightening his grip. ‘What is it that’s

driving you into this marriage? Surely it’s not your father, he

wouldn’t force you to do something you found repellent.

And you do find him repellent, don’t you?’

‘No! Yes! I don’t know! Lucien, please - ‘

‘The truth!’

‘Then the truth is that, yes, at first I did.’

‘And now?’

‘I don’t know. All I know is that I’m going to marry him.’

‘He’ll hurt you, Claudine.’

‘I can look after myself.’

‘Don’t be naive. Francois isn’t like other men, you must

have seen that already. You won’t be able to manipulate

him, you …’

‘I don’t want to manipulate him, I want to marry him. I

can’t explain it, I don’t even understand it myself, but I want

to be his wife and I want to have his children. That’s what he

wants of me, isn’t it? To have his children?’

‘That’s all he wants of you, Claudine.’ He leaned forward,

staring into her face. ‘Don’t do this to yourself, Claudine.

Go back to England and forget you ever met him. Go now,

before it’s too late.’

‘I can’t!’ she cried. ‘I can’t leave. I already love him.’

Lucien stared at her. She stared back, so shocked by what

she had said that the whole world seemed to have suddenly

careered to a halt. All she was aware of was the strange

buzzing in her ears and the pressure of Lucien’s fingers on

her arms.

Finally he let her go, but his eyes were still on hers as he

said quietly, ‘Is that true?’

She lowered her head, and eventually she shook it.

‘But you said it.’

‘I know.’

Long minutes passed. ‘Lucien,’ Claudine said at last. ‘If

Francois wasn’t always the way he is now, did the change

have anything to with a woman? Was it by any chance

someone called Hortense?’

It was some time before Lucien spoke, and to her relief

the humour was once again beginning to flicker in his eyes.

‘You are incredible, Claudine. How do you know about

Hortense? Or should I say, what do you know about

Hortense?’

‘Nothing. Except that she was described to me at a dinner

party as “poor, poor, Hortense”.’

Lucien looked at her, his eyes resting on her full, shapely

lips. It was with a relief bordering on disloyalty that he

realized Beavis must have believed Francois’ account of

what happened that night with Hortense - or he would

never have agreed to the marriage. It wasn’t that he had ever

seriously doubted his brother, but - contrary to what

everyone thought - he had not actually been there that

night, and there had always been that nagging suspicion …

For he, like the rest of the de Lorvoire family, knew there

was a dark side to Francois that rendered him capable of

almost anything.

‘If you’re concocting some story to fob me off with, Lucien,’

Claudine remarked, ‘then may I remind you that it was your

idea that we should always tell each other the truth.’

Lucien shot her a look from the corner of his eye. ‘It’s

because I have no wish to lie to you that I can tell you

nothing about Hortense,’ he said. ‘Besides, I haven’t

actually admitted that it was Hortense who was responsible

for changing Francois.’

Claudine leapt to her feet. ‘What a thoroughly infuriating

person you are!’ she declared. ‘But I shall find out, I promise

you.’

‘And I can promise you that you will only find out the

truth when Francois himself decides to tell you,’ Lucien

replied, pulling himself to his feet. ‘Now, what do you say to

leaving our exploration of the village until another day?

We’ve been gone for some time now, and Maman will start