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Authors: Rebecca Stratton

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BOOK: Lost heritage
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Her footsteps deadened by the thick carpet, she walked along to the next room and stood for a full minute with her hand raised before she knocked. A faint voice bade her enter amost immediately, and she did as she was bid, walking in on legs that trembled alarmingly and trying desperately to moisten her suddenly dry lips.

The room was large and airy, but had the impersonal luxury of expensive hotels. The most personal thing about it that Charlotte noted was a lingeringly sweet scent that she inhaled appreciatively as she sought the owner of the voice, and an open paperback novel left carelessly on an overstuffed velvet settee.

The only occupant was an elderly woman who stood by the window gazing down into the street, a stance she abandoned as Charlotte walked in. *Ah!' The small soft sound would seem to imply satisfaction and they took stock of one another quite openly for a moment, then the older woman came forward, smiling and holding out a hand. *You are Miss Kennedy, are you not?'

*Yes, that's right.' So far Charlotte was reassured, for the smile was as kindly as the barely accented voice.

Tlease sit down. Miss Kennedy, although the chairs are not very comfortable, I am afraid.' Bright eyes twinkled at her in friendly confidence. *0r perhaps it is old age that makes it difficult for me to setde comfortably anywhere but in my own home.'

She was tall and slim with neat grey hair and grey eyes that were remarkably bright and alert for her years, and she was very unlikely to be the wife of the man in Room 522. She was sympathetic too, and obviously seeking to put her at her ease. 'You are our youngest applicant. Miss Kennedy, but I think our most suitable one judging from the information you gave on the telephone.' Bright alert eyes studied her quite frankly for a moment, taking note of large blue eyes and a smooth complexion; a mouth that had

a certain tremulous appeal at moments when she felt vulnerable, as now, and thick tawny lashes. 'But the work could prove to be—trying at times. Do you feel able to cope?*

Tm sure I could,' Charlotte said firmly, and Madame Menals smiled approval.

*I am accustomed to making swift decisions. Miss Kennedy. For many years I assisted my husband in his business and I was seldom at fault in my judgment, therefore I am making a decision now. There are only four days until we return to France—can you leave with us then?'

It was too startlingly sudden to answer without hesitation, but a glimpse of impatience in the old lady's grey eyes reminded her of the man in Room 522 and she spoke up quickly. *Yes, madamey I can!' She took a deep breath, trying to come to terms with the fact that not only had she got herself a new job but that it involved travelling to France and getting much closer to her basic roots, unless she was very mistaken. Til enjoy working for you, Madame Menais,' she said with a smile that gave brilliance to her blue eyes. *Thank you.'

There was a mistake, it was obvious from the way Madame Menais was looking at her, and she felt momentarily uneasy. *Oh, but you will not be working for me personally, child,' the old lady told her quiedy. *I am acting on behalf of another member of my family. My nephew's wife is often unwell and is in need of a companion to care for her, as well as a secretary to deal with her correspondence.'

*0h, I see, I didn't quite understand that.' It was disappointing to learn that she was not to be attached to this impressive but kindly woman after all, but Charlotte would not have relinquished the opportunity of joining the Menais family now for anything.

*You are not deterred?* Madame Menais asked, and Charlotte shook her head.

^No, madame, I'm not deterred.' Not even by the thought of the man in Room 522, Charlotte thought as she got to her feet, and saw that Madame Menais was smiling approvingly.

It had been such a rush that Charlotte did not know how she had achieved as much as she had in the four days available to her. Friends had come to her aid, and the house she had lived in for most of her life was rented, so that there was no problem of selling it. Her employer too was a very understanding man, and possibly suspected some deeper reason behind her sudden move than a desire to change jobs, though he gave no sign beyond an understanding nod and his consent to her immediate departure.

Madame Menais had told her they would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning and she gave herself plenty of time, having no hesitation this time about taking a taxi to the hotel. The desk clerk, she thought, looked at her rather strangely in^ J^ first instance when she enquired for Madame Menais, then he shook his head slowly.

*I think you must have something wrong somewhere, miss,' he told her. *Monsieur and Madame Menais left nearly an hour ago for the airport. Their flight leaves at ten, so I understood.'

Charlotte checked her watch automatically then gazed at the man in blank despair. It was obvious what she had done, of course. Madame Menais had not intended her to believe that they were leaving the hotel at ten o'clock, but leaving for France, and she had stupidly not checked with her. Momentarily at a complete loss, she gazed helplessly at the man behind the desk.

*ril never make it,' she said with a quiver in her voice. *What can I do?'

The clerk responded as he was bound to do when appealed to so direcdy by a very pretty girl, and he smiled encouragingly at her while he offered his help. *ril get you a taxi, miss, and you can take the next flight out.* He picked up the telephone while he spoke and winked a reassuring eye as he dialled. 'You might even make the oat you're scheduled for if it's been delayed, it's only half an hour on a good run to the airport. Don't you worry, miss, we'll get you there.'

It had to be some kind of miracle, Charlotte decided, that got her taxi through the traffic and to the airport so quickly, but even so she was too late for the flight she should have been on. Maybe, just maybe, Madame Menais had left her ticket with the reception desk and she could follow on another flight; but it was asking rather too much of a new employer, she reahsed, and she almost burst into tears as she got out of the taxi and glanced at her watch.

It was nearly ten-twenty-five, and if her ticket had not been left for her she could say goodbye to not only a job she had been looking forward to, but also the chance to unearth something about her background. The information desk was her immediate target and she had already turned in that direction when she spotted a face in the crowd that stopped her in her tracks.

Charlotte could never imagine herself pleased to see Raoul Menais's menacingly lean figure heading towards her, but for a second or two she actually welcomed the sight of him. But he was frowning and it seemed so inevitable somehow that welcome gave way to an inward sigl} of resignation. But for all that she spoke up quickly the moment he joined her.

I'm sorry about this, Monsieur Menais,' she said hastily, automaticaUy giving him his name. I'm afraid I didn't quite understand '

'There is no time for explanations now!' he told her

brusquely, and took her suitcases from her forcibly, leaving her to scurry after him as he strode back through the crowded hall. Tortunately for you, mademoiselle^' he told her in that brisk and completely impersonal voice, *our flight has been delayed or you would have been left behind. Please hurry!'

, *I am hurrying.* She defended herself automatically, still trying to understand why he was there, obviously lo(^dng for her, when she would have expected complete indifference to whether she came or not. Unless Madame Menais had sent him; that, on reflection, seemed the most obvious answer, but she still made an effort to let him know how it had happened even though he had already denied the necessity. 1 didn't realise that Madame Menais referred to a ten o'clock flight, you see, I went to the hotel.'

She could hardly keep pace with him and her voice was Ught and breathless, but obviously he still wasn't interested in explanations, for he shrugged his broad shoulders impatiently. It is of no consequence to me, mademoiselle^ except that you hurry!'

Charlotte complied, too dazed to do anything else, while he saw her dirough the necessary preliminaries, and she found herself boarding the Paris-bound plane with a firm hand under her elbow that seemed to suggest she was under some kind of restraint. Seconds later she was pushed without ceremony into a seat alongside a young man, and caught no more than a glimpse of Madame Menais's grey head further alcmg towards the front of the plane.

The young man who shared her seat looked vaguely surprised for a moment and glanced up at Raoul Menais. A few words in French apparendy gave him certain instructions and he nodded his head, a smile already in evidence. *Oui, monsieur^* he said with just enough deference to make his positicm clear, ^naturellement !'

Charlotte watched her erstwhile escort go striding off

towards the front of the plane, then turned when she reahsed that the young man beside her was smiling enquiringly. *Good morning,' she said, and saw the bright gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

*Ah, good morning, mademoiselle; I suspected that you might be EngHsh!'

From that brief exchange with Raoul Menais it was pretty clear that he also was an employee, and that she had been put in his charge during the flight. He helped her with her seat belt without being asked, so evidently he meant to take his instruction hterally, but he was good-looking and so far quite charming, so Charlotte had no objection at all.

'You almost missed the flight, mademoiselle,'' he said as he sat back in his seat. Terhaps Monsieur Raoul had it delayed especially for your sake?'

Taking the suggestion purely at face value, Charlotte pulled a wry face. *A scheduled flight?' she said, doubting if even Raoul Menais's powers extended that far. 'Hardly, I'm not that important—particularly not ia Monsieur Menais's opinion!'

*Then in the opinion of his grand'mere, perhaps?' he suggested, and so enabled Charlotte to fit another piece into place; Madame Menais was his grandmother.

Offering him her hand, she introduced herself. 'I'm Charlotte Kennedy, a very new girl to the ranks,' she said.

Her hand was grasped and her fingers squeezed tightly for a moment, and released only reluctandy. 'Jean Cordet,' he told her, 'and I too am a small cog in the wheel. Mademoiselle Kennedy—a what you call a P.R.O. with the Menais company and very unimportant.'

'Oh, Fm sure you're not unimportant if you've been brought along to this conference,' she said. 'It's a very important one, isn't it?' Anyone who had very much to do with Raoul Menais would be in need of an occasional morale-booster, she suspected, unless she had misjudged

the man. 'How long have you been with the finn. Monsieur Cordet?'

'Several years now, almost five years.'

'You enjoy it?' she asked, then caught his eye and noticed the bright dark twinkle there.

'Never so much as at this moment, mademoiselley* he told her.^I am grateful to Monsieur Raoul for making you my travelling companion. If you are to be an employee perhaps we shall see much of one another; in whsit capacity are you to be employed. Miss Kennedy? The publicity department, perhaps, that would be very gratifying!'

'I'm afraid not,' Charlotte denied, but she smiled when she said it, for being among the family was more important to her own interests than being just part of the general ofBce staff. 'I'm to be companion-secretary to another Madame Menais, so I've been told. I had thought perhaps it might be Monsieur Menais—that is Monsieur Raoul Menais's wife, but '

'But he has no wife, mademoiselle.^ Jean Cordet's eyes gleamed speculatively at her. 'Both of the other directeurs have wives, but only one of them, I think, will need the services of both a companion and a secretary. It will be Madame Lizette Menais for whom you are to work, Miss Kennedy, I have no doubt; the wife of Monsieur Michel.'

'Oh, I see.' Charlotte looked at him a little uncertainly, then laughed and shook her head. 'It all sounds a bit complicated at the moment, but I expect it's just me being slow to understand.'

'Oh no, I think not,' Jean Cordet denied gallandy, and smiled encouragingly. 'You will find it less confusing when you know everyone, of course. The directeurs are known by their first names to avoid confusion, so that will help a little, eh?'

'Every little helps,' Charlotte agreed, and laughed uneasily when it occurred to her that she might have got

herself into something rather more complicated than she thought.

Smiling and anxious to be of help, Jean Cordet turned in his seat. 'So,' he said. 'Monsieur Raoul, whom you have met, is known as le patron, which means the boss, eh?' Charlotte nodded, convinced it was a well-earned tide. 'Although it is Monsieur Bernard, his father, who is head of the firm since the death of Monsieur Hilaire; the third directeur is Monsieur Michel who is a kind of cousin, I believe. The ladies are Madame Menais, whom you have also met, Madame Marie who is the wife of Monsieur Bernard, and Madame Lizette who is the wife of Monsieur Michel.'

Charlotte glanced along to where the top of Raoul Menais's arrogant black head showed above the back of his seat. Nothing had been mentioned about another Raoul Menais, and for a moment she wondered if she might not have made all her effort in vain. However, it was early days yet and she was always optimistic.

'And you think it most likely I'll be working for— Madame Lizette?' she asked, and Jean Cordet nodded con-fidendy.

'I think it most likelyy mademoiselle.^

*Ah well,' she sighed, but foresaw more difficulties than she had anticipated, sorting out her own basic roots from the tangle she was presented with.

She was brought swifdy back to reality when light fingers reached over and clasped her hand. 'But may we not talk of other things for the moment, Miss Kennedy?' Jean Cordet suggested with a smile.

In fact the flight seemed far shorter than Charlotte expected, thanks to the interest of her companion, and as the plane touched down she felt a flutter of excitement once more at the prospect before her. On Jean Cordet's advice she made no effort to leave her seat, but let the rest of the passengers go first, while he pointed out aU the points of

BOOK: Lost heritage
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