Lost heritage (15 page)

There was no reply and after a second or two she

shrugged and turned away. No need to wake Lizette yet; sleep did her no harm and she was invariably irritable for the remainder of the day if she was woken deliberately. Instead Charlotte set about tidying up the magazines and newspapers that were always scattered about on the furniture and floor. The fact that a daily woman would be arriving shortly to attend to such things she ignored, for it kept her occupied and stopped her from dwelling on that disturbing scene with Raoul earlier.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later when she looked at her watch again, and she glanced at the bedroom door uncertainly. Lizette had never slept this late before, and she felt she really ought to wake her whether or not she was irritable as a result. She knocked again on the bedroom door and listened.

Not even Lizette's rather heavy breathing disturbed the stillness and she experienced a curious fluttering sensation along her spine as she pushed open the door. Lizette appeared to be asleep at first glance, but then Charlotte sensed something disturbingly unreal about the position of the thin angular body as it sprawled across the bed. Clad in a wispy blue nightgown that cruelly emphasised the pallid skin and gaunt bones, she looked completely lifeless.

Charlotte's heart thudded hard as she approached the bed, then she bent her head to look closely at the colourless face, starting back with a hand to her mouth when realisation dawned with horrific suddenness. *Oh, my GodT

She stepped back hastily and almost tripped over an empty wine bottle, then stood for a second that seemed like hours, looking down at the seemingly breathless body, one hand flung outward among the rumpled bedclothes holding an empty pill botde in the curve of relaxed fingers. It was instinct alone that made her bend over again and sniff at the open mouth.

A faint flutter of warmth touched her skin and made it

crawl, but at the same time brought the only glimmer of hope she could see, for it meant there was still breath in Lizette's painfully thin body, even though it smelled sickeningly of drugs and wine.

Jerking herself upright, she ran out of the bedroom and dirough the salon to the gallery, looking left and right as she emerged from the apartment for someone close by, and praying fervently someone was there. Someone was—Raoul was coming along from his rooms as she turned her head and he spotted her at once. Changed out of riding clothes Into his more usual light business suit, he came pacing towards her with that long impatient stride, and she had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

'Raoul i' She called to him urgendy, her hands clutched tighdy tc^ether and her face almost as pale as the woman in the bedroom, her eyes as large as a child's. 'Raoul, please come quickly; please V

He did not hesitate, she registered the fact automatically despite the stunned blankness of her brain, and he took one look at her face, then went striding past her into the apartment. Without hesitation he made for the bedroom almost as if he knew what to expect.

Charlotte had left the door wide open and he could see Lizette there, sprawled across the bed, pathetically limp and thin and completely unconscious; barely alive. Charlotte followed him, arriving in time to see him bend over Lizette as she had done herself and snifiF her breath. Then he lodged up at Charlotte standing in the doorway and spoke sharply in a voice much more strongly accented than usual.

Tetch Grand'm^re!' he ordered, *and then see if you can contact Michel. I shall call Doctor Luman from here! Hurry!'

Charlotte did as she was bid automatically, taking only a moment to decide that at this hour Madame Menais would

almost certainly be downstairs in the salon with Celine. The old lady was still the hub around which the whole menage revolved and she ran her household as it had always been run, even though she was now virtually living alone.

'Madame!' She burst straight into the big salon without pausing to knock as she usually did, and both the women looked up sharply, Celine frowning automatically at such a presumption. *Madamey please come quickly,' she begged, unaware of the tears that were miming down her face while she spoke. *Madame Lizette has—she's—oh, madame, please come quickly! Raoul is with her and he's calling the doctor, but he wanted me to fetch you! The pills are all gone, and the wine '

^Pauvre Lizette!'

There was sympathy in the soft voice but also a certain inevitability, Charlotte realised, and Madame Menais moved with surprising agility for one of her years. Cdline accompanied her, looking anxious now and murmuring in French, something that the old lady acknowledged with a wave of her hand back and forth as if in dismiss^.

Charlotte only realised she was crying when tears splashed on to her hand as she walked beside the old lady across the hall, and she brushed them aside anxiously. 'I didn't know what to do,' she whispered, appalled by her own lack of decision, in retrospect. *I just didn't know what to do when I found her, madameJ*

*No, of course you did not, child!' A thin soothing hand patted hers reassuringly as they mounted the stairs, and Charlotte already felt the steadying effect of the old lady's presence. *It is fortunate that Raoul was nearby to help you. You say he is calling Doctor Luman?'

*Yes, madame,^

*Then there is little we can do until he arrives.' Her coolness and practicality were stunning, and yet Charlotte knew as well as anyone that the air of casualness was deceptive.

for no one cared for Lizette more than Madame Menais. Especially not her husband. It was always a possibility with someone as unhappy as Lizette,* she went on, 'and it was perhaps wrong of me to have placed such a young woman in your position. But I had hopes that the company of someone like you might have helped. I actually believed she had improved lately, but now *

The old lady's expressive shrug when she broke off served to remind Charlotte that Raoul had also instructed her to contact Michel. Apparendy he was not in his home-based office or Raoul would have said so, so she would have to ring the works.

Excusing herself, she hurried downstairs to use the telephone in the hall. A female voice answered and informed her in very bad English that it was impossible to put her in touch with Monsieur Michel, but if she cared to make an appointment, then it might be possible—later.

*This is an emergency,' Charlotte insisted. *A— sl family crisis, and it's absolutely imperative that I get in touch with Monsieur Michel at once; so will you please put me through to him?'

'I am not allowed to do so, mademoiselle^^ the voice informed her smoothly, and Charlotte could visualise exacdy the kind of situation the girl at the other end was imagining. One of Michel's conquests desperate to be in touch with him; she could almost imagine the girl smiling knowingly to herself. 'If you would care to make the appointment, mademoiselle^ —'

*K you don't put me in touch with him right this minute,' Charlotte warned desperately, *I shall fetch Monsieur Raoul to the telephone to tell you himself! It was he who told me to contact Monsieur Michel immediately!'

There followed a short but very meaningful silence which suggested Jean's claim for Raoul's reputation was not exaggerated, and the possibility of being faced with

his anger was enough to decide the issue. The voice came on again, just as smooth, but slighdy less confident. ^Tres bien, mademoiselley it said. *But Monsieur Michel is not on these premises.'

Then where is he?' Charlotte asked. * Where can I get in touch with him?'

Another pause suggested that the information was parted with only grudgingly. *The number to call is 357624, mademoiselley but this is a very—private number, made-moiselUy and I am not '

*I can guess!' Qiarlotte informed her shordy, and slammed down the receiver.

She had no need to guess that the number she had been given was that of Annette Villeaux, and she doubted very much if Michel had been home at all last night. As she picked up the receiver once more to dial she hoped desperately that she would find enough self-control to deliver the news she had to impart without betraying how she felt. There was time enough to tell Michel Menais exacdy what she thought of him.

Charlotte felt strangely lost with Lizette in hospital, although it was an enormous relief to know that she would recover. Madame Menais had stayed at the hospital because it was the old lady whom Lizette would rather see when she came round. Too many pills and too much wine combined had almost ended her life, but somehow she still clung to it, whether it was worthwhile or not.

Whether or not Michel had also gone to the hospital with her, Charlotte neither knew nor cared, but she sat alone in the big salon downstairs rather than stay alcme in her own room. It was there that Raoul found her and he glanced at her still pale face when he came in, then poured a large brandy and pushed it into her hand.

*Drink itl' he insisted when she shook her head, and

after a momentary hesitation she sipped from it. *You have had a shock, it will do you good.'

He took a cigarette from a pocket and lit it, narrowing his eyes against the smoke and expelling a long jet from pursed lips. As if he was playing for time, Charlotte mused as she watched him while she sipped the smooth fire of the brandy into her system. It warmed her blood and brought a curious sense of unreality to the situation, she felt, sitting here alone with Raoul

*How is Madame Lizette?' she asked, snatching her wandering senses back to earth before they got out of hand. *She's going to be all right, isn't she?'

*She is going to live,' Raoul said, and somehow managed to stress the difference between the question and the answer.

He was not indifferent, she knew it in her heart, but something in his manner, some innate reserve that prevented him from showing pity for Lizette, grated on Charlotte's nerves, and she got to her feet, too resdess suddenly to stay where she was, and feeling slighdy lightheaded from the amount of brandy she had drunk. All the anger and resentment she felt at Michel's treatment of his wife welled up inside her and overflowed into fury at Raoul's apparent callousness as she stood facing him in the big sunny room. ^^

Tor what?' she demanded. *Does she want to live? With a husband who doesn't care two pins for her? Who leaves her every night to go to his—his mistress, to be polite? You none of you care about her, do you? Only Madame Menais, and she cares for everyone! But Michel—he couldn't care less what happens to her! He brought her to this!'

*Stop it, Charlotte!'

His tone as much as his words silenced her for the moment and she stood breathing hard and feeling as if she

had run hard and fast for a very long way, with Raoul's steely bright eyes daring her to go on. She knew what result his anger could have, but somehow it was almost an encouragement and the brandy fuddled her brain; she'd had nothing to eat.

Her mouth trembled and there were tears streaming down her face though she was scarcely aware of it. 'It's true,' she insisted in a husky whisper. 'You know it's true, Raoul!'

^You know nothing of the matter!' Raoul declared firmly, and came to stand directly in front of her. 'You have been with us for—how long? A little over one month? And you imagine that you know the situation between my cousin and his wife better than we who have known them for so much longer?' The steely grey eyes flashed. 'You presume a great deal, ma fille !'

Reckless in her anger, Charlotte looked up into the stem 'shadowed face and tried not to remember how that tight mouth had been warm on her skin when he kissed her. 'You surely can't deny that Michel's—playing house with Annette Villeaux!' she said. 'That's where he was when I

rang to tell him that his wife had ' She shook her head

and swallowed hard. 'Do you think Lizette doesn't feel anything}^

Raoul drew on his cigarette deeply several times before he answered her. Then he spoke in a flat harsh voice that matched the steely gleam in his eyes as he crushed out the barely smoked cigarette. 'No one denies Michel's—shortcomings, but there are, as you English are so fond of saying, two sides to every question! Lizette is a woman who is seemingly incapable of making a relationship work; the fault does not lie entirely with Michel!'

Choosing to see an implication, whether or not one was intended, Charlotte looked up at him direcdy, her face flushed and a bright challenging gleam in her eyes. 'Is it

because she^s English that you have such a low opinion of her?* she asked. 'Do you find Englishwomen so much less satisfactory in that direction? Is that your opinion, Monsieur Raoul?'

She recalled how sure he had been that she enjoyed being kissed; how he had called it a weakness and anticipated with pleasure exploiting that weakness. Her heart was beating hard and fast, for she believed he had spoken the truth when he claimed he would enjoy making her tell him her secret and he was breathing deeply at this moment as if he held tightly to his self-control.

Then his eyes moved down to the soft tremulous quiver of her mouth. *I have no complaints personally,' he said. 'But then I am not married to one and I have a free choice I'

'So you condone his behaviour because you share your cousin's taste for promiscuity, I suppose!'

She spoke recklessly and she did not anticipate in time the sudden hardness of his hands on her arms, pulling her to him forcibly for the second time in such a short time that she could experience the lean, virile excitement of his body with her senses seconds before the actual physical contact took her breath away. He held her firmly as if he expected her to resist, then crushed his mouth over hers until her head whirled as if in delirium.

*You suppose correcdy, ma belle V he agreed harshly, and thrust her away from him to go striding out of the room without a backward glance.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Charlotte was very much at a loose end without Lizette, even though to help her take her mind off the shock of it Madame Menais had given her quite enough jobs to do to

keep her occupied for the whole of the following day. It had not been mentioned, of course, but they both knew why it was that the hospital doctor^s reports were not as encouraging as they might have been.