Darkest Longings (6 page)

the world, and part of her longed to flee back to London. It

was the first time since she’d arrived in France that she had

experienced anything approaching fear, and now that it had

begun, she was finding it difficult to overcome.

She drew on her cigarette and turned to gaze out at the

shimmering horizon. Then, tossing her hair back over her

shoulders, she perched one leg on the railing, and ran

through in her mind the recent imaginary conversations

she’d had with Francois. How silly they seemed now! She

wondered if he had thought about her at all. But of course,

he must have done; no matter what everyone said, he

couldn’t be completely lacking in sensibility. She rather

doubted that he was suffering from sudden attacks of

nerves, though. How naive of her not to have foreseen that

she would.

Throughout the remainder of the morning she roamed

the towers and stairways of the chateau. She went to the

library and sat at the bureau de dame, trying to write a letter to

Dissy in London, but got no further than ‘Dearest Dissy’.

Thinking she would prefer it, Beavis and Celine left her

alone, but there were moments when Claudine longed to

speak to them about the way she was feeling. As she bathed,

then dressed herself for the afternoon ahead, she was torn

by a bewildering paradox of emotions -anticipation and

apprehension, excitement and dread. And to make matters

worse, the instincts she had relied upon to guide her

through seemed to be completely lost in the confusion.

Well, there’s only one thing for it, she told herself, as at three o’clock precisely Celine’s chauffeur turned the car from the forest road into the steep, winding drive which

approached the west wing of the Lorvoire chateau; that is,

to remember that when I had my wits about me, I had no

doubts at all. Just because I feel now as though I’m

journeying beyond the borders of reality doesn’t mean I’m

not doing the right thing. And with that decided, she

settled herself back against the leather upholstery of

Celine’s Armstrong Siddeley to await the first glimpse of

her future home.

When it came, it was as though someone had caught

hold of her heart and stopped it beating for a moment. Her

eyes dilated and her lips parted as she sat forward in her

seat. Never could she have envisaged such mesmerizing

splendour: the fairy-tale magic of the soaring towers, the

massive creamy-white facade, the magnificent Renaissance

windows. And then there were the gardens, which fanned

gently out from the chateau towards the surrounding

forest, whose impenetrable green foliage was like a bastion,

protecting the Chateau de Lorvoire from everything but

the elements.

‘Well, cherie? her father said, as the car pulled slowly to a

stop in front of the chateau, ‘a charming little place,

wouldn’t you say?’

But as Claudine turned to look at him, Beavis felt himself

almost choked with a welter of emotion. He couldn’t

remember ever having seen her so lovely. Her bright blue

eyes were blazing with such passion it almost dazzled him,

and his heart melted as a breeze from the car’s open window

caught the fiery black curls, and blew them across her lips.

‘I know what I say,’ Celine said. ‘I say that if Francois de

Lorvoire can bring the same light to Claudine’s eyes as his

home has, then I will bless this marriage with all my heart.’

Claudine stared at her aunt as a sudden bolt of nervousness

soared inside her. This was his home. This was

where she would live with Francois de Lorvoire. How strange

it suddenly seemed. She looked around, and for one

perplexing moment felt detached from herself, as though

her thoughts had scattered like the pearls of a broken

necklace.

Then, seeing the puzzled faces of her aunt and her father,

an impish light flared in her eyes and she began to get out of

the car, saying, ‘Come along, you two, this lamb has waited

long enough to be led to the slaughter,’ and she was still

smiling as she led them up the steps, and the liveried butler

ushered them through the hall and into a magnificent

walnut-panelled drawing-room.

Claudine had not been sure quite what to expect when

she first arrived at the Lorvoire chateau, but one thing she

had certainly not anticipated was that she would find herself

confronted by a room so filled with people. The noise was

deafening, the air heavy with a mixture of scent and

cigarette smoke. Several people turned as the door opened,

and for one horrifying moment, as Claudine stood on the

threshold in the clinging black woollen dress by Charles

Creed, with the red, navy and white striped pique that

matched the crown of her little black straw hat, it occurred

to her that they might all be de Rassey de Lorvoire relatives.

Seeing her stricken face, and reading the situation perfectly,

Beavis leaned towards her and whispered, ‘The Comtesse

thought it might be easier if there were people here, friends

and acquaintances, so that you could be introduced to

Francois as naturally as possible.’

Claudine’s relief was evident, but then Beavis ruined

everything by adding: ‘Of course, now that you’ve let the cat

out of the bag and informed the whole world why you are in

Touraine …” He broke off, wincing, as Claudine’s heel

found his toe.

Assuming her most radiant smile, Claudine held out her

hands towards Solange de Lorvoire, a tall, rangy woman

with startlingly wide amber eyes and oddly cropped grey

hair, who had that moment finished beating a path through

the crowd and was clearly intent upon taking Claudine in

her arms.

‘Ma cherie!’ she cried, kissing Claudine on both cheeks.

‘Ah, ma cherie!Let me look at you. Oh, but you are so like

your mother it almost breaks my heart. How is it that we

have never met when I have heard so much about you? And

you are even more beautiful than they say. But look at me, I

am going to cry, I am so happy. Ah, Louis,’ she said, as the

distinguished-looking man beside her passed her his

handkerchief, ‘do you see Antoinette’s daughter? Is she not

the loveliest creature? Beavis, why have you been hiding her

from us? Why have you never brought her to Lorvoire

before?’

‘Solange,’ Beavis answered, the twinkle in his grey eyes

belying the formal tone of his voice, ‘may I present my

daughter, Claudine. Claudine, the Comtesse de Rassey de

Lorvoire and her long-suffering husband, Louis.’

‘Oh, but it is I who do the suffering, Claudine,’ the

Comtesse assured her. ‘It is always we women who do the

suffering, don’t you agree?’

Laughing as she looked from one to the other, Claudine

said: ‘I am so pleased to meet you at last, madame.’

‘Oh no, I won’t hear of “madame”, you must call me

Solange. Ah, Celine!’ she cried. ‘I didn’t see you standing

there, chine. But you look so divine. Is that Molyneux you

are wearing? He has done you proud, my dear. I wish I could

wear a hat like that, but… You know, I think I shall! If you

don’t mind what people say, then why should I? Louis, do

you hear me, I’m going to buy a hat like Celine’s. Now tell

me, Celine, how do you manage to keep yourself looking so

young when I know for certain that you must be at least

fifty?’

Claudine, both amused and bewildered, suddenly found

herself looking into the aristocratic face of the Comte. He

gave her the smallest of winks, then, removing the round

spectacles perched on the end of his large Roman nose, held

out his arms to welcome her. There was such warmth in his

tired, shadowy eyes that for a moment she was almost

overwhelmed - then found herself spluttering with laughter

as he whispered in English, ‘Never mind Solange, she’s

batty. Harmless, but batty.’ Then, letting her go, he turned

to Beavis. ‘Now, my friend, there is someone over here I’ve

been wanting you to meet…’ and Claudine blinked several

times as she recognized the name of the French Prime

Minister.

‘Is that really Leon Blum?’ she whispered to Celine.

‘Of course, cherie.’

‘But what on earth is he doing here? He’s a communist.’

‘Odd isn’t it?’ Celine responded, casting her eyes about

the room to see whom she recognized. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘who

shall we introduce you to first?’

For the next half-hour a sea of faces passed before

Claudine’s eyes, most of them unknown to her. She was

aware that her presence was exciting a great deal of

comment amongst the guests, who seemed to include

politicians, aristocrats, soldiers, writers, musicians and even

a couple of actors. But there was only one person who could

hold any interest for Claudine, though, as thoroughly as she

searched the room with her eyes, she couldn’t see anyone

who might conceivably be him.

At last she managed to get a moment alone with Celine.

‘For heaven’s sake,’ she whispered, ‘which one is he?’

‘Now, cherie, you’re not to be angry,’ Celine whispered

back, ‘but he hasn’t come.’

Claudine’s face paled as the excitement that had charged

her veins ever since she first walked into the room,

evaporated so abruptly it was as though someone had landed

a blow to her stomach. Then seeing the gleam of I told you so in Celine’s eyes, she turned sharply away.

So he hadn’t come. She didn’t know why she should feel

so crushed; after all, with everything she had heard about

him she should have expected something like this. And yet,

could he really be so ungallant as to humiliate her in front of

all these people? It was true that if she had learned anything

at all about Francois de Lorvoire, it was that he cared

nothing for social graces. Yet she had hoped, believed, that

with her he would be different… Now his absence made

more than a mockery of that, it showed her how utterly naive

and foolish she was.

The next ten minutes were some of the longest she had

ever known, as she flirted and joked with guests while all the

time anger welled inside her. It was directed at herself as

well as at Francois, for didn’t she have only herself to blame

that many of the de Lorvoire guests would know the reason

for her presence here? She was certain she could already see

the delight on their faces as they witnessed Francois’

humiliation of her - and suddenly she hated him with an

overpowering intensity that threatened to drive her out of

this room, out of the chateau, out of the de Lorvoires’ lives

for ever.

‘Steady,’ her father murmured beside her, his hand on

her arm. ‘Be patient.’

‘Be patient!’ she hissed. ‘Do you think I’ve come here to

be humiliated like this?’

Beavis smiled. ‘Would it calm you if I told you that he’s

arrived?’

Her answer was snatched by the sickening lurch of her

heart, and unable to stop herself, she looked desperately

round the room.

Beavis shook his head. ‘He’s upstairs, changing. He was

delayed in Paris, he …’

There you are, Claudine!’

They turned to find Solange holding the hand of a

remarkably striking young woman dressed and coiffured in

the height of Paris fashion. She was, Claudine surmised,

about her own age, but it was difficult to judge when her face

bore an expression of such blatant hostility. This, Solange

told them proudly, was her daughter, Monique.

Again, Claudine met the hostile gaze, and wondered what

on earth she could have done to provoke it. ‘Enchantee she

said, holding out her hand and smiling.

‘Enchantee’ Monique repeated, but though she returned

the smile, her eyes remained cold.

‘You two are going to be such good friends,’ Solange

enthused.

The situation was temporarily saved by Beavis, who

stepped forward to embrace Monique in the French way.

To Claudine’s surprise, Monique responded with genuine

warmth, and for a few moments she felt as though she were

looking at a different person. Then those suspicious amber

eyes, with their cumbersome black brows, were upon her

again as Monique embarked upon a formal recital of

welcome.

Claudine remained silent throughout, smiling politely

until Monique had finished. Then, to her amazement, as

she was about to reply Monique turned on her heel and

walked back into the body of the party.

‘Well!’ Claudine gasped, turning to her father, and to

Solange’s delight they burst out laughing.

‘You see!’ Solange cried. ‘I told you you would love her!’

‘Oh, I do,’ Claudine answered. ‘Really I…’

She stopped, and the smile vanished from her face as her

eyes were suddenly arrested by the massive figure standing

just inside the door. He was talking to Leon Blum and a man

her father had introduced earlier as Colonel Rivet, and

though Claudine had never seen him before in her life she

knew beyond all doubt that she was looking at Francois de