Darkest Longings (15 page)

‘You would like me to make you a woman?’ he said nastily.

She looked down as he lifted a hand and laid it over her

breast. Then she looked back to his face.

‘Why do you want to marry me, Claudine?’ he said.

‘Does there have to be a reason?’

His eyes narrowed, then it was suddenly as if the fight had

gone out of him, and shaking his head slowly, he said, ‘No,’ and put his hand back on the table beside him.

It was odd, she thought, that the only sensation she could

feel was his hand on her breast, even though he had taken it

away. She knew that at any moment the life would return to

her body, that she would be able to move again, but as long

as his eyes held hers it was as though she was imprisoned by

his scrutiny.

As if he knew the effect he was having on her, his mouth

curled in disdain. ‘You’ll live to regret this day, Claudine.

You think yourself clever now for the way you wrenched a

proposal from me, but in a year from now, ten years from

now, you’ll look back on this day…’ He stopped, and as his

eyes swept across her lips she felt her breath start to

quicken. ‘What does it matter?’ he said. ‘It’s your life, not

mine. If you want to throw it away… Shall we set the date?’

Before she could answer, the door burst open and Solange

came bounding across the room in a hair-net and dressing

gown. ‘Oh la la, I knew it was going to happen today!’ she cried,

garnering Claudine into her arms. ‘I had the feeling, in the

middle of the night. I woke Louis to tell him. Oh, Francois, mm chert, she is going to make you such a wonderful wife. I am so happy. We must tell Jean-Paul to bring the champagne.

Monique! Where is Monique! She must call Celine and tell

her to come right away. Ah, Claudine, you are going to make

my Louis such a happy man today.’

As Claudine returned the embrace, her eyes found

Francois’, and with the briefest flicker of his brows he

acknowledged his defeat.

‘I don’t suppose,’ she said, as Solange went rushing off to

find Jean-Paul, ‘that I stand any chance of a more romantic

proposal?’

‘You suppose correctly.’

She leaned her head to one side and studied him for a

while. ‘Do you really despise me?’

‘It is difficult to despise someone for whom one has no

feelings at all.’

A smile spread across her lips, then she began to laugh as

she retrieved her hat and crop and walked to the door.

When she reached it, she glanced back over her shoulder.

‘As I said before, I am going to marry a liar,’ she declared,

and with a triumphant grin she turned to follow Solange

from the room.

The engagement was announced, the date for the wedding

was set: it was to take place at the Royal Abbey of

Fontevraud at the beginning of September, less than three

months away. The haste was because Beavis could remain

in France only until mid-September, when he was obliged

to leave for a spell of duty in Berlin - but Claudine was used

to having her calendar dictated by the diplomatic corps, and

she felt too that, given the circumstances, a long engagement

would be nothing short of a farce. As far as she was

concerned, the quicker they were married the better.

Francois expressed no feelings on the matter at all.

He remained at Lorvoire for five days after the

announcement of their engagement, then left for Paris.

While he was gone he made no contact with Claudine,

though she knew he was regularly in touch with his father. She could not decide whether she was glad that his disturbing presence was removed from her, or whether - in

some curious way she could not define - she missed him.

Once or twice she allowed herself to consider what he had

told her about Hortense, but she did not dwell on it, for she

was quite convinced he had been lying. She also tried to

dismiss from her mind the peculiar emotions he stirred in

her - and did her best to spend a calm and cheerful time

helping Solange and Tante Celine with the wedding

arrangements.

Then, one morning, four days before he’d said he would

return, Claudine arrived at Lorvoire to find Francois’ car

parked in the courtyard outside the wine caves. At the sight

of the large black Citroen her heart somersaulted violently,

and as she drew up alongside it, she saw him standing just

inside the entrance to one of the caves talking to Armand St

Jacques. Slowly she climbed from the car, waiting for him to

see her, but when he did eventually look up, he merely

turned away again and continued his conversation.

Seething with indignation, and without even thinking

what she would say when she got there, she marched

towards him. Before she reached the cave Armand came

out, and seeing the look on her face, instantly made himself

scarce.

Claudine barely noticed him. Francois had his back to

her now, and seemed intent on the bottles lined up on a

counter in front of him. Hearing her footsteps, he looked

up, and the harsh impatience that flashed across his face

inflamed her temper even further.

‘What are you doing here?’ he snapped, before she could

speak.

She stared at him, her anger for the moment blunted by

his rudeness.

‘Why haven’t you returned to England?’ he demanded.

‘England?’ she repeated stupidly.

For several moments he glared at her, then with a shrug

he said, ‘Do you not have affairs to attend to in England?’

‘No,’ she answered, anger tightening her beautiful

features. ‘My father’s lawyers and the staff at Rafferty

Lodge are dealing with matters there.’

‘So you are staying here, in Touraine, until we are

married?’

‘Unless you have any objection?’

He gave a derisive laugh. Then suddenly his eyes were

hard, and leaning his face towards hers, he hissed, ‘What do

you want from me?’

‘Nothing? she seethed, cowering from the venom in his

voice.

‘Then go! Go away from here. I don’t want you!’

She couldn’t help flinching at the malice in his voice, but

quickly mustering the full might of her fury, she said, ‘If you

think your atrocious behaviour is going to make me change

my mind, then think again, Francois. The only way you’re

going to get out of this marriage now is to call it off yourself.’

For a long moment they glared at one another. Then, to

her horror, Claudine found that she was remembering the

feel of his fingers as they curled about her breast. The shock

of the pleasure it gave her slaked through her body as

powerfully as the loathing which hammered at her heart.

She struggled to break free of those eyes, but she was bound

by their magnetism. Her senses were reeling, she felt she

would drown in the sheer force of him. Then she saw the

sneer on his lips, the contempt that disfigured his face more

brutally than the scar, and at last she was able to turn away.

She was dazed by what was happening to her: she knew she

hated him, yet she felt so drawn to him that at times it was as

though she were in danger of losing herself in him.

In the dining-room of the chateau she found Solange

waiting for her, her lively grey hair standing on end and

Louis’ spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. The table

in front of her was in chaos, strewn with cards and

envelopes, lists and letters. Today they were to begin the

enormous task of sending out invitations. Solange looked so

bemused that Claudine felt a great wave of affection for her,

and dismissing Francois from her mind, she sat down to

help.

She didn’t see him again until midday, when Tante

Celine arrived for lunch and he walked into the dining

room with her. Claudine got up to greet her aunt, studiously

ignoring Francois, but as she was about to sit down again he

put a hand on her arm. ‘I’ve brought you something from

Paris,’ he said.

Claudine stared at him. She watched him reach into his

pocket and pull out a small box bearing the insignia of Van

Cleef and Arpels. He did not look at her as he put the box

into her hand, but simply stepped back, waiting for her to

look inside.

When she did, her mouth fell open. Beside her Tante

Celine gasped, and Solange clapped her hands in delight.

The diamond was flawless and the size of a centime.

Claudine looked up at Francois, but he was staring at the

ring, his face devoid of expression. But as she lifted it from

the velvet crease to raise it to the light, he took it from her,

picked up her left hand and slid the diamond onto the third

finger. It was a perfect fit.

‘I hope you like it,’ he said softly.

Again she looked up at him, dimly aware that her

breathing had all but stopped. ‘I like it very much,’ she

answered.

He nodded, and with a flicker of one eyebrow, he turned

and walked from the room.

After that, Claudine threw herself into the wedding plans

with renewed enthusiasm - while Solange took to rushing

about Lorvoire creating one muddle after another. After

three days Louis threw up his hands in despair, declaring

that he’d given up all hope of ever knowing a moment’s

peace again, while Francois complained that he had not

been embraced so often since he was an infant.

‘Oh Maman, not again,’ he would groan as she clasped

him to her, but there was a gentleness in his eyes as he kissed

her that brought a lump to Claudine’s throat. For her there

was no such display of affection; for all the attention he paid

her she might just as well not have been there. But all that

would change once they were married, she told herself, and

treating him to the same chilly disdain as he showed her, she

went about her business.

A week after he’d given her the ring, Francois went away

again, informing her, through Tante Celine, that she should

not expect him back before the end of the month. After his

departure, at Solange’s insistence, Claudine became a daily

visitor at Lorvoire in order that she should get to know the

household better. It was a happy time for them all: the old

gramophone was dragged from a cupboard, and she and

Solange whirled about the neglected ballroom while Louis

sat quietly in a corner, his round glasses teetering on the end

of his nose and his feet tapping to the spritely rhythm.

As that scorchingly hot summer progressed the chateau

saw other visitors too, as noble families from all over the

region beat a path to Lorvoire, eager to get a glimpse of the

English beauty who was to marry Francois. The hospitality

they received was, by normal standards, unusual: there were

games of cache-cache in the forest and rowing races on the

river, cricket on the sloping bank of the meadow and

dancing in the courtyard. But they all seemed to enjoy

themselves, and on the rare occasions Francois was at

home, though he never deigned to join in, Claudine

occasionally caught him smiling. But never at her. For her

there was only the stark hostility she was coming to know so

well. But why should she care, she asked herself defiantly,

when everyone else welcomed her so warmly?

The wedding was drawing closer, and it was time to leave

the chateau and go to Paris, where Claudine’s wedding

gown was being created by the House of Worth, and almost

every other designer of note had a hand in her trousseau. Claudine and Tante Celine stayed with the de Lorvoires at the house in the Bois de Boulogne, where the afternoon

parties, while not quite as unorthodox as those at Lorvoire,

were nonetheless lively. In return they were bombarded

with invitations to the theatre and the ballet, to private

concerts and to dinner with friends, and once, but only

once, they went in a party of twelve to the most famous

cabaret in Paris, the Lapin a Gill. The original plan had been

to visit the BalBullier where, so Claudine had heard, it was

difficult to tell the men from the women, and ladies of the

night paraded naked through the ballroom - but Louis had

drawn the line at that.

That was towards the end of August, and Francois returned

from a three-week trip to North Africa the morning after their

exotic night out. He was highly amused to hear that his parents

had set foot inside such an establishment, and rather regretted

that he could not stay, he said, if this was the kind of

entertainment they were going in for - but he must leave again

the following day as he had business to attend to in Marseilles,

and he wanted to call in at Lorvoire on the way, not only to see

Armand but also to check on the work that was being carried

out on his apartment in the west wing of the chateau, to make it

ready for Claudine.

Claudine experienced some very strange feelings when

she heard that, but she showed none of them when he

joined their party at the theatre that night, where he sat

beside her, watching as she offered her left hand to those