Darkest Longings (31 page)

from falling when Monique pushed her. Her mind was in

turmoil, and she felt faintly sick. At last she looked up - only

to see that Francois was scowling at her. The day had

started out so well, but now a sense of defeat was

threatening to overwhelm her.

‘Sit down,’ Francois said.

She shook her head.

He took her by the arm, led her to a chair and pushed her

into it. Then he turned away towards the window. ‘I take it

all that was about young Prendergast,’ he said, keeping his

back turned.

Claudine didn’t answer. She felt too miserable even to

show any surprise that he knew about Monique and Freddy;

she had always abhorred self-pity, but she knew she was

coming dangerously close to it at that moment. But

Monique’s accusations were unjust. She hadn’t put Freddy

up to inviting Teresa, that had been his own idea. But she

could have stopped him, and she would have done if she

hadn’t been so caught up in her own life.

Francois turned to look at her. ‘Would you like to explain

why my sister is so upset?’ he said coldly.

‘I thought you’d heard all she had to say.’

‘I did. Why didn’t you defend yourself?’

‘I didn’t get the chance.’

‘I am giving it to you now.’

Claudine looked away.

‘Am I to understand from your silence that there is some

truth in Monique’s accusations?’

She sighed. ‘Does it matter? Monique obviously wants to

believe I talked Freddy out of marrying her…’ She

shrugged.

‘Did you?’

‘Why are you asking me these questions?’ she suddenly

shouted. ‘The point is that neither I nor anyone else could

have talked him out of it if he’d wanted to marry her, and I

resent being treated like an adolescent when none of this is

any of your damned business.’

‘Claudine,’ he said with deliberation, ‘if Monique is

threatening you, then it is my business.’

‘Why? Because, doting husband that you are, you care?

‘I told you last night that I want you to be happy here.’

‘Then why the hell don’t you do something about it!’

‘That is precisely what I am trying to do. If there’s a rift

between you and Monique I want it healed.’

‘And what about the rift between you and me? Or doesn’t

that count? Oh, don’t speak to my any more. I’ve had

enough of arguing … I’ll sort things out with Monique and

I don’t need any help from you.’

‘As you wish.’

He started to walk across the room and she expected him

to leave, but he stopped at the sofa and sat down. ‘How are

your plans for the wine feast progressing?’ he asked, after a

moment or two.

She eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he was now

going to tell her that it couldn’t happen. ‘Satisfactorily,’ she

said.

He nodded. ‘Armand told me about Father Pointeau’s

suggestion. There’ll be a hunt in the Chinon forest before

the service of thanksgiving, and I’m sure Georges de Rivet

would be willing to donate the catch to the feast if I ask him.’

Barely able to disguise her surprise, Claudine said,

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘The least I can do, since I won’t be here myself.’

‘Where will you be?’ The question was out before she

could stop it.

‘Berlin. If you have any letters for your father, than I shall

be happy to deliver them.’

‘Thank you.’ There was a long, uncomfortable pause

while she struggled to fight back the loathsome, self-pitying

tears that had overcome her at the mention of her father.

Then again she had spoken before giving herself time to

think: ‘Would it be possible for me to come to Berlin with

you?’

Sighing, he pulled himself to his feet. ‘You have duties

here at Lorvoire that preclude that possibility, so I’m afraid the answer is no.’ When she continued to stare up at him, he said, ‘You can’t tell everyone you are going to organize a

feast and then disappear on a whim to see your father.’

She knew he was right, but it didn’t stop her throwing her

resentment at him. ‘Of course, it wouldn’t have anything to

do with you not wanting me in Berlin, would it?’ she said

nastily.

‘As a matter of fact, it would. I don’t want you with me. I

want you here, where you belong. Now, see that you make

amends to Monique before things get out of hand. If I were

you, I’d start by getting that young puppy on the next train to

England.’

‘He’s Celine’s guest, not mine.’

‘Don’t be obtuse, Claudine. You have offended my sister

deeply; at least have the decency to get young Prendergast

as far away from her as you can.’

When the door closed behind him, Claudine sat for some

time staring into space and doing her best to stave off the

swelling tide of unhappiness. In the end, knowing that she

was losing the battle, she jerked herself out of the chair, ran

down the stairs and got into the car. She might hate

Francois for the way he had spoken to her, but he was right;

having Freddy and his girlfriend at Montvisse would only

exacerbate the pain for Monique, and angry as she was with

Monique, she had no wish to see her suffer.

- 11

Claudine’s spirits lifted the following afternoon when

Lucien arrived home and announced he was staying for at

least a week. She and Armand had no trouble in persuading

him to help with the preparations for the harvest celebration,

and even got him to drive Gertrude Reinberg to

Chinon market the morning after his arrival, to purchase

fabric remnants for the children’s pantomime costumes. As

Gertrude loaded him up with crepes and satins, cottons and

lace, Claudine couldn’t resist creeping up behind him with a

feather headdress from the stall and jamming it on his head.

He looked so absurd that everyone started to laugh, and

Claudine escaped through the crowd before he could catch

her.

Later in the day, Armand began what was to become a

daily routine, of driving about the countryside in his Citroen

van, persuading the local wine-growers to enter their last

year’s vintage in the competition Claudine was going to

judge. There were snorts and guffaws, loud protests and

much waving of hands at the idea of a woman judging their

wine - and an English woman at that - but Armand’s charm

invariably won the day and they grudgingly allowed their

names to be put forward.

Meanwhile Claudine was out on a talent hunt - or so

Armand thought. In fact she was following after him and

informing the wine-growers that whoever donated the

largest sum of money for charity would secure first place for

his wine. Their donations were to be sealed in an envelope,

she told them, so that no one would know what anyone else

was giving. This way, she had told herself smugly, she not

only got out of judging a contest which would certainly earn

her the hostility of half Touraine, she also made money for a

good cause. Armand protested strongly when he finally

learned what was going on, and to Lucien’s great enjoyment

told her that she was the most devious and brilliant diplomat

he had ever come across.

The Mayor of Chinon agreed to let them use the town

hall for auditions and rehearsals, and the hilarity of the days

spent there was only surpassed by Armand and Solange’s

evening sessions at the piano. The first time Armand

opened his mouth, he got no further than the opening line of

the song they had chosen before Claudine stopped playing

and turned to him in horror.

‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded testily.

‘You can’t sing!’

‘I never said I could,’ he retorted.

‘But your voice is terrible! You sound like a bull elephant

with a trumpet in its trunk.’

‘Right, mat’s it!’ he said, throwing down his sheet-music.

‘I’m not staying here to be insulted. And if you think it’s so

fanny, Lucien de Lorvoire, you get up there and do it!’

In the background Solange started humming tunelessly

under her breath, at the same time gliding back and forth

across the room with her arms outstretched, her head

thrown back and her chiffon dress floating around her.

‘What is she doing?’ Armand said.

Claudine and Lucien glanced at one another - then

Lucien leapt from his chair and swept his mother into his

arms, while Claudine seized Armand and they all started to

dance about the ballroom. Solange was a wily old thing,

Claudine thought, who knew as well as anybody how to take

the sting out of a situation.

After that the rehearsal went more smoothly, but Armand

was always on the watch for Claudine to wince - or worse,

laugh - and her struggle to keep a straight face was made

only marginally easier by banishing Lucien from the room.

They found him later at the cafe, drinking pastis with half

a dozen or so men from the village, who were between them!

setting the world to rights. They were sitting round a table ill

front of the roaring fire, and the air was thick with cigarette I

smoke. Armand and Claudine’s arrival brought a cheer of I

welcome, and chairs were pulled up and fresh glasses called!

for. Since Claudine didn’t much like the aniseed drink I

Gustave brought her a. picket of wine, and she sat between!

Thomas and Yves Fauberg who started telling her outrageous tales of the things Lucien and Armand got up to as boys.

‘And what about Francois?’ she asked, after a time.

‘Wasn’t he into mischief too?’

‘Oh, he was away at the Jesuit school in Paris by that

time,’ Thomas answered, ‘but yes, he always had some I

scheme going when he was here. I remember the day he

took these two for a ride in my tractor - he couldn’t have

been above ten years old at the time. Caught up with them in

the end, halfway to Saumur, after they’d knocked some poor

onion seller off his bicycle and squashed his onions.’ He

gave one of his throatier chuckles. ‘The Comte was so

angry, we didn’t see Francois again that holiday.’

Everyone laughed; then Claudine, raising her glass,

abruptly changed the subject by challenging them all to take

part in her cabaret. The response was a unanimous No, but

Gustave, refilling their glasses, whispered in her ear that she

stood a better chance of talking them into it if they were

under the influence, so to speak…

‘Which means,’ Lucien said into her other ear, ‘that you

are footing the bill.’

An hour later they were all singing, even Armand, but

Claudine was no nearer persuading anyone to perform at

the harvest celebration. The crafty old rogues told her as

she was leaving that if she were to come again the following

night, they might reconsider.

‘Not one of them is above bribery!’ Armand said as

Claudine handed Gustave what money she had and put the rest on account.

Her cheeks were glowing, from the warmth of the fire as much as from the wine, and as she looked up at him she saw the laughter fade from his eyes. Surprised, she paused - but the next thing she knew, Lucien had grabbed her about the waist and was waltzing her towards the door. Once out in the square, she broke free, and then somehow a furious game of chase developed round the well, with Claudine running off at last through the misty night towards the river. Both Armand and Lucien caught up with her at the same time, swept her into the air and threatened to throw her in. Her screams were answered by the lighting up of windows all over the village, and Florence Jallais without knowing whom she was addressing, leaned out and delivered Claudine an extremely savoury piece of her mind.

Still laughing, the three of them finally parted company outside the cafe, where Lucien and Claudine got into their respective cars and Armand strolled off along the street.

Claudine, spinning the car round the well so that she was facing in the right direction for home, called out, ‘Don’t forget, Armand! We’re expecting you at six in the morning.’

‘I’ll be there,’ he shouted back. As she drove out of the

village she saw that he was still standing beside the well,

watching her go.

Lucien was the first to arrive back at the chateau, and was waiting for her on the front steps. ‘Nightcap?’ he said, as she joined him.

‘Splendid idea,’ she hiccoughed, and laughing they walked into the hall together - where they very nearly collided with Francois and Captain Paillole who were just emerging from the drawing-room.

It was more than obvious that both she and Lucien had had too much to drink, and Claudine had been quite happy with her condition - until she came face to face with her

husband. Now, feeling suddenly hot, she took her arm from

Lucien’s and tried to concentrate on what he was saying to

his brother, but there was a buzzing in her ears and her head

started to spin. She took a deep breath, which seemed to

steady her for a moment, but still she wasn’t listening…

She was thinking how alike the two brothers were. Both had

the distinguished de Lorvoire nose, deep-set eyes and

powerful jaw, and both - though Francois was taller and

larger all round than Lucien - had the physique of an

athlete: so how could it be that one was so devastatingly