Darkest Longings (46 page)

talk of war, love, like everything else, became more urgent;

there was a feeling of excitement in the city as children

donned their gas masks to frighten their friends, newspaper

vendors barked , ‘LeMatin! LeMatin! Le Boche arrived and

shops on the rue de Rivoli did a roaring trade in china dogs

lifting a leg on a copy of Mein Kampf. There was a sense of

unreality, too, as if all this might be the product of a fever

which would soon subside.

The day before the July ball, excited and nervous,

Monique took Claudine to meet Karol Kalinowski at his

apartment on the avenue Marceau. Claudine liked him on

sight. His face was severe and his manner a trifle abrupt, she

thought, but the twinkle in his green eyes was constant and

there was no mistaking his devotion to Monique. They

spent a cheerful two hours together, listening as Karol told

stories of his homeland and plied them with refreshments

almost as lavish as his compliments. Claudine was enjoying

herself so much that she almost forgot Karol and Monique

had not seen each other for three weeks, and that it might be

tactful to leave them alone together.

She rode back to the Bois de Boulogne in a taxi, feeling

very happy - almost as if she must try to keep her spirits from

soaring too high. She was missing Armand dreadfully, of

course, but it was so wonderful to be in Paris, away from the

prying eyes that followed her about Lorvoire. And she could

hardly wait to get home to see if her ball gown had been

delivered yet… Again she sighed as she pictured the yards

and yards of black rayon satin, the strapless crossover

bodice and daringly low back. Monique and Solange had

shrieked with laughter during her final fitting, for when she

stooped to pick up the hem, her breasts had broken free of

the bodice.

‘It is no matter,’ Coco had assured her, ‘we shall merely

stiffen the whalebone and tighten the crossover.’

‘But will I be able to breathe?’

‘I doubt it, but which do you wish.to secure, your modesty

or your life?’

‘My life, I think. Even if I remain covered, this gown

leaves very little to the imagination!’

‘Then we shall do our best,’ Coco laughed. ‘And perhaps,

before you return to Lorvoire, you will do me the honour of

being photographed in the dress. I am very proud of this

creation.’

When she arrived home Claudine ran straight up the

stairs to the nursery, but only to find that Louis was asleep.

She stood over him for several minutes, looking at his

adorable little face, the tousled mop of black hair, the long

dark lashes curled over the silky smoothness of his cheeks.

She loved him so much she ached with it.

‘He has worn himself out playing with all the new toys

Madame la Comtesse has purchased,’ Corinne said, coming

into the room and standing beside her at the cot.

‘She spoils him,’ Claudine said softly. ‘We all do.’ She

turned back to the nanny. ‘Corinne, if anything were to

happen to him …’

‘There now, Madame? Corinne soothed. ‘Nothing is going

to happen to him. Has your husband not given you his word?’

It was clear from Claudine’s expression that she needed

more reassurance than that. Corinne pressed her hand.

‘Why don’t you go down to the sitting-room? The Comtesse

is about to take tea with her visitors and I believe your aunt is

amongst them.’

Immediately Claudine’s face brightened. ‘Tante Celine!’

she cried. ‘I had no idea she was in Paris.’ And after casting

another lingering look at her son, she ran off down the

stairs.

The following morning she was standing at the mirror in

the hall, arranging her hat before joining Corinne and Louis

for their walk, when she was drawn to the sound of voices

coming from the study.

‘… so I am afraid, Monsieur le Comte, that I am unable to

tell you any more than that.’

She frowned. It was a voice she recognized, but for the

moment she couldn’t place it.

‘Have you sent anyone to Brest?’ Louis enquired.

‘Of course, monsieur. But it is over fourteen days now

since the Royal Navy landed him, he is unlikely still to be

there.’

‘But someone there must have seen him?’

‘There is a garage mechanic who was holding Francois’

car. Francois collected it, as arranged, and the mechanic has

every reason to believe he then drove out of Brest.’

Claudine edged closer to the door.

‘You’re taking the word of a garage mechanic?’

‘We have no choice, monsieur. No one else has seen him,

no one has heard from him.’

‘Have you tried Elise Pascale?’

‘Naturally. She is as baffled as we are.’

‘This isn’t good enough, Paillole,’ Louis said. ‘I don’t

need to remind you what a dangerous game my son is

playing and it is one of which I strongly disapprove. I want

him found, and I want him found alive.’

‘Of course, monsieur. We all want that. But the reason I

have come here today is to prepare you for the worst.’

Claudine’s heart stood still.

‘So you think he is already dead?’ Louis snapped.

‘No. That is not what we think at all. What we think is

what we have always feared.’

There was a long silence, then Louis spoke again. ‘Are

you saying what I think you’re saying, Captain Paillole?’

‘We have no confirmation, monsieur, but I’m afraid, yes,

that is what we suspect.’

‘Get out of here!’ Louis roared. ‘Get out and don’t come

into my house again!’

Claudine fled across the hall to the sitting-room.

Thankfully no one was inside. She heard the front door

slam, then Captain Paillole’s footsteps in the drive. She

crossed quickly to the window and watched as he drove out

of the gates.

She could make nothing of what she had heard, nothing

except that Francois had vanished - and somewhere inside

her a knot of fear started to tighten. If she asked Louis to

explain, it would mean admitting to eavesdropping. But did

that matter? It was her husband they had been discussing she

had a right to know what Captain Paillole suspected him

of.

Louis was still in his study when she knocked, but as she

pushed the door open Monique came flying down the stairs

crying, ‘Papa! Papa! Is he there, Claudine? Oh Papa! You

are the most generous man in the world,’ she gushed, sailing

into the room. ‘Did you see what he has given me, Claudine?

Look here,’ and she passed Claudine a small leather case.

Inside was an emerald necklace, earrings and bracelet. ‘Won’t they match my dress perfectly this evening? Oh Papa, you are so clever.’

To Claudine’s amazement there was nothing in Louis’

manner to suggest that only a few moments ago he had lost

his temper; as he accepted his daughter’s gratitude his face

was a picture of pleasure.

‘It’s stunning, Louis,’ Claudine said. ‘Absolutely …’

‘Just a minute,’ he interrupted. ‘Have you not found your

own? I instructed Magaly to leave it on your dressing table.’

Claudine shook her head, bewildered.

‘Then I suggest you return to your room and inspect my

choice. If it is not suitable we shall need to change it before

tonight. And you, Monique, why don’t you go with her while

I make a telephone call?’

The rest of the day was so taken up with last-minute

house guests arriving and then their own preparations for

the ball, that it wasn’t until late afternoon that Claudine had

an opportunity to speak to Louis again. However, when she

knocked on the study door there was no reply, and when she

turned the handle she found that it was locked. Puzzled, she

went back upstairs, and had got as far as the first landing

when she heard the study door open, and saw Louis cross to

the front door and open it. He spoke briefly to a man she

couldn’t see, closed the door again and returned to the

study.

There was obviously something strange going on, and as

the evening went on Claudine found herself increasingly

unnerved by it. Uppermost in her mind was the fact that

Francois had disappeared. What he had done, or what

Captain Paillole suspected him of, had for the moment

ceased to matter: she just wanted to know where he was.

Then it occurred to her that Corinne might know.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do know where he is,’ Corinne

said. ‘But I’m afraid he has instructed me to tell no one. The

only reason I know is so that I can reach him if I feel Louis is

in any danger.’

‘But what about Francois? Is he in any danger?’

Corinne smiled. ‘Not now, madame.’

‘Meaning he was?’

‘I think a little, yes.’

Claudine’s eyes narrowed. ‘Corinne! I want to know

where he is!’

‘Madame, monsieur gives his orders for his own safety as

well as yours, and I should be in breach of my duty to you

both if I went against his wishes.’

‘I want to know, Corinne!’

But just then, to Corinne’s evident relief, the door

opened and Solange came in with Louis.

Claudine had no choice but to accept her defeat and

several minutes later took Louis off to her own room so he

could join her in the bath. And after all, she thought as she

lay back in the scented water while Magaly handed her a

glass of champagne and Louis sailed his toy boats around

her, if Corinne believed Francois to be safe then he

probably was. And she had no intention of spoiling this

evening by worrying about a husband she detested.

The ball was in full swing by the time the Polish

Ambassador led his staff, bare-footed, in a polonaise across

the Embassy lawn. The watching crowd gasped in admiration

as the macabre glow of red Bengal lights illuminated

the dancers, bejewelled women glittered in the darkness

and coloured smoke entwined itself around them. It was as

though they were dancing on fire.

Guy de Maulevrier, a family friend who was Claudine’s

escort for the evening, ushered her to the front of the

audience, and seeing her, Monsieur Lukasiewicz, the

Polish Ambassador, took her by the hand and drew her into

the dance. Others were joining in too, and as the music

swelled to a deafening pitch and the rhythm quickened to a

polka, beautiful women frolicked about the gardens in the

arms of their dashing young courtiers - while inside the

statesmen talked soberly of war.

At the end of the dance, breathless and laughing,

Claudine fell back into the arms of Guy de Maulevrier, who

whisked a glass of champagne from a passing tray for her,

then stooped to kiss her shoulders. She was enjoying

herself, surrounded by friends. There was singing; only the

Poles knew the words, but everyone joined in, making as

much noise as they could so that the surrounding streets

rang with their merriment. Guy’s hands were again on

Claudine’s shoulders, making her feel reckless and carefree

and happy. Then suddenly there was someone tugging at

her wrist, and looking round she saw Tante Celine.

‘It’s Monique,’ Celine shouted above the din. ‘You’d

better come.’

She hurried through the embassy after her aunt until they

reached the Ambassador’s outer office, where Monique was

sitting alone. She looked up when they walked in, and as her

black bobbed hair fell back from her face, Claudine almost

gasped aloud.

‘What is it?’ she cried. ‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s Karol,’ Celine answered. ‘He hasn’t arrived. I sent

my chauffeur round to his apartment, and he’s just

returned. There’s no sign of Karol, and it’s past midnight’

Claudine sat down beside Monique and took her hand.

‘There will be an explanation, cherie?

‘That’s what Celine keeps saying,’ Monique wailed, ‘but

what explanation can there be? He knew how important

tonight was to me. He was to meet Maman and Papa. Oh,

Claudine, you don’t think he’s changed his mind about me,

do you?’

‘No, of course I don’t,’ Claudine assured her. ‘He’s in

love with you. He…’

‘But I’ve thought men were in love with me before,’

Monique cried, wrenching her hands away and burying her

face in them. ‘Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening to

me again. Why does it have to be like this for me? I can’t have

him, he can never be mine, that’s why I try so hard to fall in

love with other men. And I thought Karol was the man, I

thought that this time …’

‘Monique, what are you saying?’ Claudine interrupted.

‘Who can never be yours?’

Quickly Monique shook her head. ‘No one, nothing. I

didn’t mean anything. Oh, Claudine, what have I done to

deserve this?’

Claudine looked at her aunt for help, but Celine only

shrugged. ‘All right,’ Claudine said decisively. ‘Tell me who

Karol’s friends are, Monique, and I’ll go and ask them if

they know where he is.’

‘Here,’ Celine said, taking a pad and pen from the desk

behind her, ‘write them down, Claudine.’