Her Own Rules (16 page)

“Don’t go away,” he said, smiling down at her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with a pot of hot Her Own Rules / 161

lemon tea laced with honey. It’ll do you the world of good…one of Grandma Rosie’s cures.” He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Meredith leaned her head back against the pile of soft velvet cushions and closed her eyes; she was so sleepy, she could barely keep her eyes open.

She must have dozed off, for she awakened with a start when Luc bent over her and moved a strand of hair away from her face. This intimate gesture on his part startled her for a moment, and then she realized that she did not mind that he did this. It suddenly seemed perfectly natural to her.

“I put the tea here on the ottoman,” he said, his voice low, concerned still. “Drink some of it while it’s hot.

Now I shall go and let you rest.” He squeezed her shoulder.

“Thank you, Luc, you’re so kind. I’m sorry I cut short our walk, but I—”

“Think nothing of it,” he said swiftly. “It’s not important.”

“Would you turn off the lamp, please?”

“Of course. Now rest.” He left the room.

Meredith turned on her side, lay curled in a ball under the cashmere throw, staring into the fire’s bright flames. The logs hissed and crackled and sparks flew up the chimney. She raised her eyes at one moment and gazed for a long time at the portrait of Rose de Montboucher.

The afternoon light was fading rapidly, the room filling with shadows, but the roaring fire and its dancing flames introduced a rosy glow. In the soft 162 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

incandescent light it seemed to Meredith that the painting of Rose came alive. Her face was full of life, her delphinium-blue eyes brilliant, sparkling with joy, and the red-gold curls framed the sublime face like a halo of burnished copper. How beautiful she was…so radiant.

Meredith’s eyelids drooped. She drifted on a wave of warmth. Her mind was filled with that face…memories jostled for prominence…fragmented into infinitesimal pieces. She fell into a deep sleep. And she dreamed.

The landscape was vast and it stretched away endlessly, as far as the eye could see, miles and miles of desolation. There was something oddly sinister about this place where there were no trees and nothing bloomed on the parched, cracked earth.

She had been walking and walking for as long as she could remember. It seemed like forever.

She felt tired. But some inner determination pushed her forward. She knew they were here somewhere. The children. She had followed them here. But where could they be? Her eyes darted around. The land was empty; there was nowhere for them to hide.

Help me to find them, please. Oh God, help me to find them, she pleaded. And immediately she understood that her

Her Own Rules / 163

prayers fell on arid ground. There was no God here. Not in this empty void. It was godless, this netherworld.

And then unexpectedly she saw something moving near the pale rim of the far horizon. She began to run. The cracked dry earth suddenly gave way to mud flats and her shoes squelched and sank into the mud and sometimes stuck and her progress was slowed. She persisted. Soon the land was dry again. She ran and ran.

The specks on the horizon grew closer and closer, loomed up in front of her as if they had jumped backward. She saw a young boy holding a girl’s hand. Just as they had drawn closer to her, now they withdrew, moved forward again, and rapidly so. She ran, almost caught up to them once more. They walked on slowly, the two of them, still hand in hand, perfectly in step. She called out to them, called for them to wait for her. But they did not. They went on walking as if they had not heard her. The sky changed, turned a strange grayish-green, and a high wind began to blow, buffeting her forward. Suddenly the boy flew into the air, as if blown upward by a gust of wind. He disappeared into the sky.

The little girl was alone now. She suddenly turned around and began to walk

164 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

toward her. Meredith hurried forward to greet the girl, so wan, so pathetic, with her pale, pinched face and big sad eyes. She wore black stockings and shoes, and a heavy winter coat.

There was a small black beret on her head and a long striped scarf was wrapped around her neck. The label pinned to the lapel of her coat was huge. The girl pointed to it. Meredith peered at it, trying to decipher the girl’s name written there, but she could not.

Suddenly, taking her by surprise, the girl began to run away. Meredith tried to run after her but her feet were stuck, encased in the mud. She cried to the girl to come back, but she did not stop, just went on running and running and running until she was gone out of the landscape.

There was a cracking sound and then a terrible noise like shell fire and everything exploded around her…

Meredith sat up with a jolt. Her face and neck were bathed in sweat. She was disoriented, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. Then she realized she was in Grandma Rosie’s sitting room at Talcy.

Outside, a storm was raging, lightning streaking through the darkening sky, thunderbolts rattling the Her Own Rules / 165

windows. She shivered and huddled under the cashmere throw Luc had wrapped around her earlier, stared at the fire, grown low in the grate. And the fear was there inside, ravaging her.

Closing her eyes, she tried to push the fear away, not understanding why she was so frightened. She was here at the château, perfectly safe from the violent storm raging outside.

And then it came to her. She knew why she was so fearful. It was the dream. The dream that had recurred so many times in her life. She had not dreamed it for years now. Suddenly, the old, familiar dream had come back to haunt her, to frighten her again, as it always had in the past.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

O
nce she had returned to Paris, Meredith’s thoughts frequently focused on her weekend at Clos-Talcy.

And most particularly, Luc de Montboucher was at the center of her reflections.

She liked him, more than liked him, in fact, and his kindness to her had left a lasting impression.

Kindness had always been important to Meredith, perhaps because she had experienced so little of it in her life. None at all when she had been a child, and growing up without kindness had made her acquire a carapace of iron. Only Mrs. Paulson had been able to break through this tough protective shell; and then, of course, the Silvers, when she had gone to work for them at Silver Lake.

And just as kindness was important to a child, so it was to a grown woman, and especially a woman Her Own Rules / 167

over forty. But this characteristic aside, she found him extremely attractive as a man.

Luc was very good-looking, darkly handsome and fine of feature, but that was not his most important asset as far as she was concerned. Just a pretty face had long ago ceased to hold her interest.

She admired his intelligence and talent, and his in-tegrity, which instinctively she knew was unassailable.

He also had a good sense of humor, and she discovered they liked so many of the same things—good books, classical music, a glass of icy champagne in front of a blazing fire on a wintery night, not to mention houses built on water, stained-glass windows, and the delicate paintings of Marie Laurencin. All in all, Luc was an impressive man and she was glad she had met him, glad she had accepted his invitation to go to the château in the Loire.

They had driven back to Paris early on Monday morning, and she had spent most of the afternoon with him and Agnes out at the Manoir de la Closière in Montfort-L’Amaury, going over the changes they wanted to make. That evening Luc had taken her to dinner at the Relais Plaza, and the night before they had eaten at Grand Vefour.

They had laughed a lot over the past few days, and she had begun to realize what an enormous impression he was making on her, and just how much she really did care about him.

Meredith had known Luc only a week, but he was already under her skin, and she knew she was going to miss him when she returned to New York. In her mind

168 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

she was already planning her next trip to Paris. There was business to attend to in Manhattan; also, she had to sign the initial documents for the sale of Hilltops to the Morrisons. And she couldn’t wait to see Cat, to hug her, fuss over her, and celebrate her engagement to Keith.

But all of this would take only ten days at the most, she had calculated, and then she would fly back on the Concorde. In any case, she was needed in Paris because of the remodeling and renovation of the old manor house. The three of them had agreed on Monday that it must be modern and up-to-date in every way, while still retaining its basic character and charm. And of course it required her decorative imprint, the look and the stylishness that proclaimed it to be a creation of Havens Incorporated.

In the quietness of her hotel suite the previous night she had wondered what would happen after the inn was finished; she had an immediate answer for herself.

The inn would take a whole year to complete, therefore she would be spending a great deal of time in this city.

Paris. The City of Light. And of lovers.

Things will work themselves out, she reassured herself in the early hours of the morning. A long time ago Meredith had come to understand that life had a way of taking care of itself.

Day by day, step by step, she decided, as she prepared for bed. It’s the only thing I can do, and we’ll see what happens. Everything must take its normal course.

Meredith knew only too well that a relationship that looked promising could quite easily come to naught, fizzle out in a flurry of recriminations and Her Own Rules / 169

bad feeling. After all, that had happened with Reed Jamison. Her face had changed at the thought of him.

What an unpleasant encounter that had turned out to be in the end. But then, Reed and Luc were as different as any two men could be, poles apart, and anyway, to make comparisons was foolhardy, even odious.

Luc was so straightforward, so honest, she believed she would always know exactly where she stood with him. No game-playing there. And he was a thoughtful, responsible, mature man whom she knew respected her; certainly she respected him.

Meredith had spent most of Tuesday with Agnes, and she had been surprised that her French partner had not probed too deeply about the weekend; Agnes had asked only a few cursory questions. But then, they had been very preoccupied with their plans for the inn and busy rushing around Paris. They had visited innumerable antiques shops and fabric houses, taking Po-laroids of furniture and collecting samples of fabric and wallpaper. Since they had similar tastes and the same ideas about the decoration and furnishing of the inn, there were no problems in this respect.

It was on Wednesday afternoon, when they were sitting in Agnes’s office at Havens, that Meredith mentioned Luc. The two of them were selecting fabric swatches and lining them up on a flat board, endeavoring to create viable color schemes.

Quite suddenly Meredith said, “Last night Luc invited me to the château again. This weekend.”

Agnes glanced up. “I’m not surprised, he likes you a lot.”

170 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

“And I like him.”

Agnes laughed. “Most women do. He’s irresistible.

I’ve always wondered why he’s never remarried.”

“Perhaps it’s taking him a long time to get over his grief for his wife.”

“Oh, so he told you about her?”

“Yes, which is more than you did, after you’d promised. I sort of blundered in on that one, and I was afraid I’d upset him.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t phone you, as I promised, but Chloe was so sick, I had my hands full. Anyway, Alain and I had a chance to talk only on Sunday afternoon, and I certainly didn’t want to call you at Talcy to gos-sip about your host.”

“No, I understand that, and I’m glad you didn’t, I would have been embarrassed.”

“Alain has known Luc off and on for many years, Meredith, but not really well. We became a bit closer to him only in the last year, mainly because he was designing a house for Alain’s sister. And even so, he never discussed Annick…his past was sort of…well…
vague
to us, and we’re not the kind to pry….” She did not finish her sentence, merely looked across at Meredith and shrugged.

Meredith said, “I understand. You can know people, be very friendly, and yet not know too much about their private life at all.” She leaned back in the chair and crossed her long legs. “There’s so much I like about Luc, Agnes. I mean as a person, and he’s very straight, honest. Also, he really listens, pays attention. That’s a rarity these days.”

Her Own Rules / 171

“I believe him to be the kind of man who’s worth taking seriously. I know for a fact he’s not a playboy.

Not at all, not one bit the philanderer.” Agnes eyed Meredith and probed. “Could you become involved with him? On a serious level?”

There was a brief hesitation on Meredith’s part and then she said, “Yes, I could, Agnes. He’s the type of man I like, the kind I thought I’d never meet again.

Men like Luc are usually well and truly spoken for.”

“You are indeed correct,
ma chérie
, but I think Luc has chosen not to be spoken for. Until now. He did tell me he liked you, wanted to get to know you better.”

Meredith stared at Agnes. “
Oh
. And when was that?”

“Last week, just after he met you.”

“And you never told me. Thanks a lot, friend!”

Agnes burst out laughing. Shaking her head, her gray eyes full of merriment, she said, “He didn’t tell me not to say anything, but I thought discretion was the better part of valor, and all that. In any case, I didn’t want to frighten you away from him. I thought you’d probably bite my head off and tell me I was a romantic fool. Consider them, Meredith, the various men I’ve introduced you to in the past eight years.

They were attractive, eligible, but you never seemed interested in them. Not one little bit.”

“I wasn’t.”

“But you
are
interested in Luc?”