The Perfumer's Secret (5 page)

It was like a prison sentence being passed on me – no, a death sentence. I couldn’t live happily without being allowed to create. Aimery knew very well what having the Nose meant. This was not a conscious choice and while subtle aspects could be learned, the gift of being able to discern different smells – dozens and dozens of them – was divine, and could not be acquired. He was effectively sneering at what was part of my soul. ‘May I then at least have some input in the Delacroix range?’

‘No. Fleurette, your family’s business is under the captaincy of Henri. We remain rivals, albeit friendly ones, and indeed family now. Nevertheless, I do not wish any crossover at this stage when it comes to our respective perfume empires. Maybe in time . . .’ He made a tutting sound as though it was all laid out neatly now and should be set aside. ‘Now, settle yourself down into running this vast house, the prospect of motherhood, and I’d very much like you to take on some charitable duties. You might care to start planning the Christmas lunch for our workers. It’s only a few months away.’

‘Aimery.’ I pointed uselessly off towards the terraces somewhere in the blackness of the Grasse night. ‘All those workers are marching to the drum of war. They’re not going to be attending the De Lasset Christmas meal.’

He smiled in a patronising way. ‘Nevertheless, the planning would be good for you, even if it is academic. This sort of skill can never be overlooked or overestimated. It’s excellent practice for the future.’

I wanted to scream.

‘Now,’ he said, and I realised this was his favourite condescending opening to any sentence, ‘let us forget about perfume, war, or anyone else for a short while – let’s begin our own private offensive here in this room. I am going to bed my wife and I hope in the next short while we shall make our first child.’ He gave a tight grin as he crushed the life of the last embers of his cigar and my hopes. ‘If not, we shall try again . . . and again.’ Aimery’s patience with me had petered out. He stood and began undoing the last two buttons of his shirt. ‘Get into bed, Fleurette, and let me show you what I wish you to do for me.’

I looked away as he began to undo his trousers. I felt the urge to run and yet my feet were leaden, weighted to the floor in a helpless lack of mobility. I had nothing to say. I couldn’t think; I knew this was it. I had to let it happen and stop hoping against hope that —

Aimery cursed aloud as I swung around at the sound of banging on the door. ‘What the hell?’

‘Monsieur Aimery?’ The voice sounded familiar. It was his housekeeper, Madame Mouflard.

I reached quickly for his dressing-gown and with an urging expression helped him into it. It was obvious he was furious by the way he pushed his arms into the sleeves and carelessly tied it at the front. Aimery flung the door open only just giving me time to hurriedly pull on a gown for my own modesty.

‘Madame Mouflard, what is this?’ he demanded with unconcealed rage.

She quailed beneath his fury. ‘Forgive me, sir, forgive me,’ she pleaded, casting me a beseeching look. ‘The bells say it all, Monsieur,’ she said, trembling.

‘I am highly aware of them, Madame, and what they mean,’ he snarled.

I gently pushed him aside, a calming hand on his arm, and was relieved he permitted me. ‘What is it, Madame Mouflard?’ I asked more gently. I eased into the little space left at the door’s threshold.

‘Captain Louis Drevan is here to see you, sir,’ she said, returning her attention to her employer. ‘He needs to speak with you.’

‘My captain?’ He spoke this title in a reverential tone. ‘Well, well . . . the decree has been signed, no doubt.’

‘We shall be down immediately, Madame Mouflard,’ I said. ‘Please offer the captain some refreshment.’ I closed the door on her before my husband could explode. ‘It’s the formal announcement of war,’ I said, more to myself than Aimery. ‘What else could it be?’

‘It better be, or I shall start one of my own,’ he snapped, tearing off his dressing-gown and re-buttoning his trousers. I was relieved to note his ardour had deflated with his mood, although I secretly wanted to kiss Captain Drevan for the intrusion.

I’d rearranged my silken dressing-gown and stepped into satin slippers. It was time to embrace my role as woman of the house, even though it was nearing midnight. ‘I’ll see you down there,’ I said, after checking my hair was still neatly pinned.

‘Fleurette!’ I halted at his shout, my hand on the door handle, looking over my shoulder. ‘You’re not going downstairs like that?’

‘Why not? It’s a ridiculous hour. It’s my wedding night. Why on earth should I worry about how I appear?’

His mouth pursed and I was reminded fleetingly of Henri for some odd reason.

‘Well, dear wife, mainly because I forbid it.’

I think I began mouthing the word
forbid
silently, as though I needed to understand what he’d just said, but he was talking over my shock.

‘Not only are you not going downstairs in that garment, but you are also not meeting a captain of our army at all. May I remind you that the captain has asked for me, not my wife. This is men’s business.’

Now he sounded like Henri.

‘War is —’

‘I will inform you with the rest of the household. For now, please let the men discuss men’s issues.’

I don’t know why Aimery didn’t just walk up to me and take a full swing to punch me in the jaw. My mouth went slack with dismay as he strode to the door, which he closed behind him. I remained rigid with the horrific understanding that my role in this house may have a title, but it held little weight.

Nevertheless, I defied him in a small way. If Aimery was refusing to let me join him during this most emotional of moments, then I would join the staff; I needed to be with others and share the worry of war. This was not about our wedding, me suddenly being his property or abiding by his rules; we were facing a much bigger problem and I had no time for Aimery’s chauvinism. I hurried downstairs and then deeper still into the dark belly of the De Lasset mansion to where it felt as though the entire household staff had gathered in tense expectation.

Distantly drums were adding new urgency to the bells as the town was coming to terms with what the call to action signified.

‘Oh, Madame!’ Madame Mouflard exclaimed, looking aghast to see me.

Everyone stood, chairs scraping back, hair pulled away from faces, all conversation ending abruptly. The aroma of cooked food mingled with the smell of working men, the sudsy freshness of washed dishes and the inevitable tobacco. A fog of smoke hovered above their heads.

Almost tiptoeing onto the flagstones, I could still hear my footsteps it was so instantly silent, save the tick of a clock in the corridor. I looked around at the staff’s dazed expressions and felt as lost as they appeared.

‘Please, everyone. Forgive me for intruding,’ I began. I could tell now it was a significant mistake to defy Aimery. I felt ridiculous with all of them fully clothed and me in garments clearly of the boudoir, and of a wedding night. It was unseemly of me and they averted their gazes but I had to press on now. ‘I am feeling as bewildered as you but I’m sure my husband will tell us what he has learned soon.’ I smiled to encourage them.

‘Madame De Lasset, we are so sorry that this has occurred on tonight of all nights,’ Madame Mouflard said, doing her best to ignore my silken-clad presence, instead glancing around at everyone who murmured agreement. ‘The mayor received the telegram from the prefecture and Captain Drevan came over to inform Monsieur De Lasset.’

I smiled to reassure but there was little humour in my gesture. ‘I think our nation’s security is entitled to win my husband’s attention. The message will surely go to my brothers next. I don’t suppose there’s any coffee left?’

My request and casual manner seemed to snap them out of their spell. Making noises not unlike a hen, Madame Mouflard, whom I found myself liking in spite of all my worst intentions to hate everyone in the De Lasset home, fussed until a mug of sweetened milky coffee was pressed into my hands by one of the young women. Despite the warm night, it was exactly what I felt like after those few sips of cognac.

‘Thank you. What is your name?’

‘I am Jeanne, Madame.’

‘And what do you do in the house, Jeanne?’

I noted the young woman look to her elder and Madame Mouflard gave a curt nod. ‘I am training to be your lady’s maid, Madame.’

‘Ah, that’s right. Madame Mouflard did mention this. You’re new, aren’t you?’ They hadn’t needed a lady’s maid in so long, it was clearly a novelty.

‘Er, yes, I am new. I began only a few days ago so I am feeling a little unsure.’ She blinked, wondering if she’d said too much but after another glance at her senior she continued. ‘I wanted to help you this evening but I was nervous and Madame Mouflard said you would probably appreciate privacy.’ She blushed, suddenly embarrassed she had referred to something she should not. I smiled to ensure she knew I’d taken no offence, despite the stiffening back of Madame Mouflard nearby. ‘I am not yet ready but I will be.’

I glanced at our housekeeper. ‘Let Jeanne start immediately. We can teach and learn together.’

She blinked. ‘Very good, Madame.’ She looked at Jeanne to say that was enough conversation. ‘Madame, perhaps I might introduce you to the rest of the staff here tonight?’ she offered. Like me, she was looking for anything to ease the tension.

‘A lovely idea,’ I agreed. ‘Please,’ I gestured.

‘Please meet Madame Clothilde. She is head of our kitchen.’

‘Madame Clothilde,’ I repeated, nodding at the flushed, round-faced woman watching me from small eyes. She curtsied, which set a trend.

Names were cast my way and I received nods of heads in polite bows from the men while the women gave a brief curtsey. My memory delivered each into its own compartment in my mind; I knew, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t forget them. Even though I did not need to, I politely repeated their names with a smile to each.

‘I’m sure you will not remember all of us,’ Madame Mouflard continued, and I chose not to correct her.

The uneasiness thrumming around us was intensifying. ‘Please sit,’ I urged, and people gratefully shuffled back to corners of the room or returned to their seats. ‘I’m sorry you are all up so late,’ I began and this was greeted with shrugs and tutting sounds that it didn’t matter. It didn’t, and neither did my weak apology.

‘Do we know anything?’ I wondered aloud, desperately feeling as though I needed to lead the staff through this uneasy time. And yet I was one of the youngest people in the room, with little experience of such adversity. All I had was entitlement and authority; it would have to be enough.

‘We’re hearing that our boys are already mobilising,’ said a man, looking dejected. He was nursing a wine.

This was news to me. ‘Do you have sons, Pierre?’ He had been introduced as the head gardener and I didn’t need to look at Madame Mouflard to know she was impressed by my recall of his name.

He nodded. ‘Two, Madame. One is nearing twenty-three, the other turned twenty-one in May. He’s at the beginning of his active duty. They’re both marching now, eager to be part of it even though they don’t have to formally depart for another nine hours,’ he said, sinking a gloomy swallow of his wine to drain the glass.

I couldn’t blame him. Already my thoughts were turning away from Aimery and towards my brothers. Felix had only completed his conscription service last year and I knew this meant he would be called up. As would Henri. The notion that my only living family would march off to war against Germany made spangles of fear explode like tiny bombs of nervous energy in my belly.

The cook’s maid, Marie, offered to top up my coffee but I declined. ‘Too much excitement already for one day,’ I said in a hollow excuse. She nodded, smiled, and moved on to the next person.

‘Oh, Madame.’ The housekeeper suddenly startled me. ‘I meant to mention that a small trunk arrived today for you.’

‘For me?’ I was puzzled. ‘From whom?’

‘From Monsieur De Lasset, the younger,’ she said, eyes glittering.

‘Sébastien?’ I sounded the disbelief I saw reflected in her gaze. ‘Is he here?’

She shrugged. ‘We received a telegram to expect him but no, we have not sighted him yet and now I doubt we shall.’

I put down my half-drunk cup of coffee. ‘Perhaps you could show me the trunk?’ I was intrigued but, dressed in my night attire, I mostly wanted to be away from the escalating tension of the servants. They surely didn’t want me around as my presence only added to their discomfort. ‘Definitely just for me?’ I asked as we moved to the door.

‘Oh yes, Madame. Only your name is attached with it. He sent a separate parcel for your husband.’ She gestured for me to go in front of her. ‘I was going to have it carried up to your room tomorrow, but if you’re sure. . .?’

‘I am.’ I turned. ‘Thank you, everyone. Please take heart. We’re all in this together.’ Again, bland, empty words, but what was one supposed to say at a time like this? I had no experience to draw upon. And I did say it with sincerity. I hoped that part came across genuinely. People stood, nodded, curtsied again. ‘Goodnight,’ I said, even though it was far from such a thing.

‘
Bonne soirée
,’ they echoed in a miserable chorus because none of us believed we were going to have a good evening at all.

I breathed in and sighed. ‘I wish I could say something to lift their spirits,’ I admitted to the housekeeper as I followed her silent footfall across the flagstones. How did she achieve that, while I clicked behind her, despite my best efforts to tread quietly? I didn’t mean to sound forlorn, but I was certainly feeling it.

‘You are here. That is enough for all of us who have wished a happy marriage for Monsieur De Lasset. Soon the sounds of children’s laughter will echo – it is everything our staff looks forward to. This marriage will help our household to remain optimistic through all of this upheaval.’

It sounded wonderful as a concept but I felt entirely dislocated as one of the main players of that theatre. I would have to start now, train myself to overcome my revulsion of Aimery if I was ever to give heirs to the De Lasset family.