Darkest Longings (36 page)

away.

‘Cover yourself up,’ he growled, rearranging his own

clothes.

‘Francois, why are you doing this? Why, when …’

He turned back, and she flinched at the malicious smile

on his lips. ‘I did it to show you what a fool you are. To show you…’

‘No! You did it because you wanted me. Francois I saw it,

I felt it.’

‘You saw and felt what you wanted to,’ he snarled. ‘Now,

cover yourself!’

‘I won’t! I want you and I’m not afraid to say it. You want

me too …’

Wo!’ he roared. ‘I don’t want you, Claudine. I’ve never

wanted you. If I did I’d have taken you, just as you wanted

me to. But you disgust me, do you hear? You disgust and

repel me!’

For one dreadful moment she thought he was going to hit

her, but then the anger suddenly died in his eyes, and in its

place was a sinister light of pleasure. She stared up at him,

too shocked to speak - and then he turned away and started

towards his bedroom.

‘Francois,’ she said.

He looked back at where she stood beside the table, her

coat covering the skirt that was hitched around her waist.

Her face was pale, but her voice was perfectly steady as she

said, ‘I want you to know, Francois, that I wish with all my

heart that the child I am carrying was Armand’s. But it’s not,

it’s yours. It can only be yours because until I married you, I

was a virgin, and since I married you I have never slept with

another man. I don’t care if you believe me, I don’t care what

you think or do any more, but I want to know one thing. I

want to know whether, if the baby had been Armand’s, you

would have let me go.’

The corner of his mouth lifted in a ghastly smile as he

took his time contemplating her. In the end she could stand

it no more.

‘What would you have done?’ she screamed.

Finally, with a diabolical lowering of his eyebrows, he

said, ‘Remember Hortense.’ And chuckling quietly to

himself, he walked into his room.

Claudine was now in her sixth month of pregnancy, and

though there were still times when she felt listless and

depressed, on the whole she was coping much better than

she had in the earlier stages. She never allowed herself to

think about Francois now, and had firmly banished from her

mind the memory of that terrible day when she had told him

she was pregnant. Instead she concentrated on Armand,

doing everything she could to recapture the friendship they

had had before the harvest celebration. Of course, things

were different now, they both knew that. There were times

when her need for his love, his kindness, his comforting

arms, reached such a pitch that, but for the fact that they

were careful never to be alone together, she would have

been unable to stop herself touching him.

As news of her pregnancy spread people had started to

come from the nearby chateaux to see her, and some even

motored down from Paris. She was happy to see them, but

knowing that their presence was a constant reminder to

Armand of the great difference between their lives, she was

always relieved when they left. And in fact she was never

happier than on the quiet days, when she could drop in to

see Liliane and relax in the rocking chair beside the fire,

while the old lady chattered on and the early spring sunlight

shone in through the open window.

Little Janette and Robert Reinberg always kept a look out

for her car, and if they saw it outside the St Jacques’ house,

would come bounding along the street to see her. Madame

Reinberg’s tailoring business was now beginning to thrive,

and Claudine loved the way Armand spent whatever time he

could with the two children, trying in his own way to make

up to them for the loss of their father. They adored him, and

Janette, who had discovered that one coy look from under

her outrageously long lashes could persuade him to do

anything, used her charms shamelessly.

Whenever Claudine went to the village she invariably

arrived at midday, knowing that Armand and several other

men from the vineyards would come in soon afterwards for

their lunch. Sometimes, as she watched Armand helping

himself to food or tossing back his wine, the coarse golden

hair on his arms glinting in the sunlight, his handsome face

intent on the business at hand, she would imagine what it

would be like if it were just the two of them there, safe and

secure in their love, with their child growing in her womb. It

was a fantasy which she knew would only distress her later,

when she was forced to return to the reality of her marriage,

but she couldn’t deny herself the happiness of those few

minutes spent dreaming of how things might be.

Sometimes, rocking in the chair, she fell into a doze; then

feeling a hand on her arm, she would look up and see

Armand standing over her, his eyes alight with laughter and

love as he gently teased her for snoring through her dreams.

How she managed to stop herself reaching out for him then,

she never knew.

But there were days when Armand was bad-tempered

and snapped at everyone. When he was like that, Janette and

Robert would take themselves off, the meals would pass in

silence and Claudine would watch him with a heavy heart It

was always when Francois was at home that he was like this.

She came less often then, knowing that during those times it

hurt him, rather than pleased him, to see her.

The night before her birthday was one of the occasions

on which Francois was at home. He gave her a diamond and

ruby necklace in a Mauboussin box - at least, he left it on the

table in their sitting-room for her to find. She hadn’t

realized he even knew it was her birthday, but of course

Solange or Louis would have told him. When she opened

the box, she gasped. The necklace was the most beautiful

and unusual she had ever seen, with three ruby crosses of

Lorraine hanging from a three-tiered diamond neckband. It

must have cost him a fortune.

She had intended to thank him over dinner, but he was so

engrossed in talk with his father - France was being torn

apart between the Left and Right, they were saying, and

Louis was highly critical of Leon Blum’s intention of

forming a new Popular Front government - that she

decided to leave it until the next morning. But immediately

after dinner, Francois informed them that he must return to

Paris that night.

She allowed herself no feelings about the fact that he

wasn’t intending to stay for her birthday, though somewhere

in the deepest recesses of her mind, she thought she was

pleased. Perhaps she was at last beginning to overcome her

obsession with him. And besides, if he had stayed she would

have had to cancel the party she was planning with Solange

and Monique, for his presence would have made it impossible.

The morning of her birthday was the morning the

Germans finally marched into Austria. But no one at

Lorvoire heard the news that day, for it was the day

Claudine had her accident.

She was woken early by the baby, who was being even

more active than usual, and laughing, she clutched her

hands to her belly and started to scold it. Then, thinking of

Armand and the day ahead, she felt a sudden rush of

happiness. She got out of bed and strolled onto the balcony

outside her room, where the branches of the forest were

almost close enough to touch and the sun glittered through

the leaves.

A little while later she heard the sound of the door

opening and then Magaly’s gasp of alarm. It wasn’t the fact

that she was outside that had dismayed Magaly, it was that

she was wearing nothing more than a rapturous smile.

‘Madame!’ Magaly cried. ‘You will catch a cold! Think of

the baby!’

‘I am,’ Claudine said. ‘It’s so restless this morning, it’s as

if it knows it’s my birthday.’ She ran her hands over her

swollen stomach and started to murmur softly to her child. ‘I

wish I could walk like this through the forest, Magaly,’ she

said. ‘It seems so right to be naked with nature when I am

carrying a baby.’

By the time Claudine was ready for breakfast, she was so

happy she felt she might burst with it. She could hardly wait

for midday, for all the vineyard workers had been invited to

take their lunch at the chateau today, and so too had the

children who were too young to be at school, their mothers

and grandmothers, Father Pointeau and Doctor Lebrun.

Even Florence Jallais was coming, though only because

Armand had agreed to drive her in his van. So, apart from

her family, all her guests would be village people, and she

was looking forward to it so much that the only thing that

had come close to upsetting her was that she couldn’t find

Francois’ necklace. Never mind, she was too excited to worry about that now. And she began to sail down the stairs in her crimson wool maternity dress, looking, as she had told

Magaly, exactly like someone in a bell tent.

It was as she reached the second flight that she heard the

noise behind her. Everything happened so quickly then that

no one had the chance to shout a warning. Yet when she

remembered it later, it was as if it was all happening in slow

motion - the clatter of china and silver making her pause,

then turn, then she opened her mouth to scream as the

footman’s body came thundering towards her. As she hit the

stairs she felt something sharp dig into her shoulder, then

her body seemed to be twisting away from her as the

chandelier above started to spin. The last thing she knew

was a blinding, star-spangled pain as her head struck the

bottom stair.

Hearing the noise, Solange and Louis ran out into the

hall, followed by the servants. Monique and Magaly came

flying down the stairs, and the instant Magaly saw her

mistress’s inert body entangled with the footman’s, and

surrounded by the remains of a breakfast tray, she started to

scream.

‘Jean-Paul!’ Solange barked. ‘Find Marcel…’

‘I’m here, madame?

‘Marcel. Go for Doctor Lebrun. Monique! Get away,

don’t move her. Tilde, Fabienne, fetch some blankets.

Louis, take your medication. Now!’

The footman started to groan with pain. ‘It’s all right,

Philippe,’ Solange told him, bending down to take his hand.

‘Marcel’s gone for the doctor. He’ll be here soon. Just lie

still.’

It seemed an eternity before the doctor arrived, but in that

time Solange managed to ascertain that Philippe had

probably broken his leg. There was also a deep cut on his

jaw, and an angry swelling had started over one eye. He was

conscious, though it was clear from the way his head kept

rolling from side to side that he was dazed and disoriented.

However, he would live - as would Claudine, Solange

told herself vehemently. But her daughter-in-law’s lovely

face was so pale, and though she had been rubbing her

wrists for some time, and wafting smelling-salts under he

nose, Claudine showed no signs of coming round

Monique’s hands were resting gently on Claudine’s

stomach, and when she met her mother’s eyes she shook her

head. ‘It’s not moving,’ she whispered.

After leaving the chateau the night before, Francois had

driven straight to the avenue Foch. Almost two months had

passed since Elise had told him of Claudine’s pregnancy,

and her affair with Armand, and he hadn’t seen her again in

all that time.

Elise had been uneasy at his prolonged absence, particularly

since he hadn’t even telephoned to say where he was.

She knew he was in communication with his courier, Erich

von Pappen, but for once von Pappen had refused to divulge

Francois’ whereabouts - and her other methods of finding

out had, on this occasion, failed her.

By way of comfort, she had reminded her self that a great

deal had been happening in Europe over the past couple of

months to interest Francois. Adolf Hitler had pronounced

himself Germany’s Supreme Military Commander, and

Lord Halifax was now the British Foreign Secretary. Most

important of all, perhaps - at least, as far as Francois was

concerned - the Nazi plot to annex Austria had been made

public. Though the expose had obviously come far too late,

Elise thought, because Erich von Pappen had told her that

the Germans were poised to walk into Austria the very next

day.

She wondered how many other people knew that - and

how much von Schuschnigg, Austria’s Chancellor, had paid

Francois for information on the Nazi plot. But that was the

kind of detail Francois never disclosed to anyone, and in

truth it didn’t really interest Elise. All that mattered to her,

as she sat alone in her drawing-room, was that at last he had

telephoned to say he was coming.

Beneath her oyster silk peignoir she wore nothing but a