Darkest Longings (5 page)

she said, ‘because all of Paris knows that I’m here, and why.’

The colour started to drain from Celine’s face and her

pale eyes widened in horror as she took in the full meaning

of what Claudine had said. ‘What!’ she gasped.

‘I’m afraid so,’ Claudine answered, with mock gravity.

‘You see, I told Henriette, and you know how hopeless she is

at keeping a secret, especially one like this.’

For a moment Celine was lost for words. ‘Oh no!’ she

moaned at last, covering her face with her hands. ‘Don’t you

realize, Claudine, that if you decide to refuse him now, all of Paris will assume that he has refused you. You will be yet another in the long line of Francois de Lorvoire’s rejected

women!’ Her voice rose in anguish as she contemplated the

derision that not only Claudine, but she too, would have to

suffer as a result of her niece’s thoughtlessness.

‘But if I marry him,’ Claudine said, very softly, ‘there

won’t be any scandal, now will there, Tante Celine?’

Once again Celine found herself bereft of speech. She

stared straight into Claudine’s piercing blue eyes as the

realization hit her. ‘You did it on purpose, didn’t you?’ she

said. ‘You made sure that the marriage arrangement would

be common knowledge, so that fear of scandal would force

me to withdraw my opposition to it.’ Suddenly her anger

gave way to distress. ‘But why are you so set on this

marriage, Claudine? Tell me why, I beg you.’

‘It isn’t only I who want it, Tante Celine,’ Claudine said

mildly. ‘When the proposal was put to Francois, he didn’t

object, he’s told his family, and Papa, that he will marry me.

And just as he has promised Papa to marry me, I promise you

I’ll marry him.’

‘But why?’

‘Because I am twenty-two years old and in danger of

becoming an old maid?’

‘Claudine, you are mocking me. I know you; there’s

something behind all this that you’re not telling me or your

Papa.’

‘If there is,’ Claudine countered, ‘then maybe it’s a secret

I want to keep.’

Celine fell silent. After what Claudine had done, the

marriage was now almost a fait accompli - and yet how could

she stand by and watch her niece ruin her life? ‘I promised

your father I would do nothing to interfere,’ she said slowly,

‘but I am going to break that promise. I am going to stop this

marriage, Claudine. I am going to stop it for your own sake,

and one day you will thank me for it.’

‘No!’ Claudine’s eyes held a dangerous gleam, and her

aunt stepped back, almost as if she had been struck. ‘This is

my life, Tante Celine, and I will do with it as I see fit. I have

made the decision to marry Francois de Lorvoire, and if you

do anything to jeopardize that, then so help me, Tante

Celine, I’ll… I’ll…’

‘Claudine!’ her aunt gasped. ‘Are you threatening me?’

Suddenly Claudine’s eyes were alive with laughter. ‘Do

you know,’ she grinned, ‘I rather think I am. But I am

serious, Tante Celine. I am no longer a child. My life, my

destiny, are in my hands now. And the reasons I have for

going through with this marriage are mine, and mine alone.’

Celine closed her eyes as her anger deflated. ‘Oh, this is

all such a mess,’ she sighed, gazing out across the river to the

Lorvoire forest. ‘How has it happened? I know your Papa

loves you…’ Her eyes moved back to Claudine’s and she

gave her a weak smile as she said, ‘I can’t give up, Claudine.

I will go and speak to your Papa again now. All is not lost

yet.’ And turning, she began to walk slowly back to the

chateau.

With the brown water of the River Vienne lapping her

toes, Claudine stood and watched her aunt disappear along

the avenue of limes. How hard Tante Celine had tried to make her divulge the reason behind her determination to marry Francois! But how could she tell her when the truth

was so ridiculous? Heaven knows, she would laugh herself if

she was told such a story, but when something like that

happened to you, when it touched your own life, it was a

different matter altogether. Somehow, you couldn’t shrug it

off, no matter how hard you tried. And when life was

unfolding in precisely the manner the old woman had

described …

She picked up her shoes and wandered over to the long

grass where she sat down, resting her elbows on her knees,

propping her chin on her hands, and staring sightlessly at

the river as it flowed past.

That was why she was here, that was why she was going to

marry Francois de Lorvoire. Because of an old gypsy, who

had sent the village children to tell her she must come and

see her. She hadn’t sought the gypsy out herself; she had

just returned to her Hertfordshire home from New York,

and hadn’t even known the fair was nearby until the children

told her. But the gypsy woman had known about her; so she

had gone, not out of vanity, not even out of curiosity, but out

of a desire to please the children.

Afterwards, she had all but forgotten what the gypsy said,

until six weeks ago her father returned from Rome, having

stopped en route for a brief stay at the Chateau de Lorvoire.

Then it had all come flooding back.

‘There is a man,’ the gypsy had said, ‘a very handsome man,

much older than you. I think perhaps he is your father. He will

come to you and tell you something you will find strange at

first, but you must listen to him, because your future is in his

words. Your future lies across the sea, in a foreign land, but I

see it is not such a foreign land to you.’ The old woman had

looked up from Claudine’s palm and searched her eyes. ‘Your father is English, I think,’ she said. ‘Your mother not.’

When Claudine nodded, the odd, foreign-looking face

smiled, before it was lost in shadow again as the gypsy bent

her head. ‘Tell me no more,’ she murmured. Then there

was a long silence, and Claudine could hear the shouts and

laughter outside and the sound of the fairground organ as it

piped and whistled a medley of cheerful tunes only a few

yards from the tiny domed tent in which she sat.

At last the old woman spoke again. ‘You will do what your father tells you, even though there will be many who warn you against it.’

‘But what is it?’ Claudine asked.

‘It is marriage. There is a man, again older than you.’ The

woman stopped. ‘But wait!’ she said. ‘There are two men.

Yes, I see two men. The man who will be your husband, and the other … There is a great love.’ She looked up, and there was an odd light in her eyes that made Claudine want to shiver. ‘And there is a greater danger,’ she rasped. ‘I

cannot tell which of them …’

‘Danger?’ Claudine repeated, when the old woman did

not go on.

She shook her head. ‘It is more than danger. There are

many influences … influences that will be beyond your

control. And always there are these two men. What is your

name?’

‘Claudine.’

The gypsy smiled, revealing the gaps between her stained

teeth. ‘I cannot say which of these men will bring you

happiness, Claudine, all I can say is that there is a long road

to travel before you find it, many mistakes to be made and

lessons to be learned along the way. My advice is to listen to

your heart, because it is a truer friend to you even than those

who believe they know what is right for you. Your marriage

will cause much trouble, but it will happen soon, sooner

than you think, and it will change your life.’

Claudine found herself smiling as the gnarled old fingers

closed protectively around hers. ‘It is not right that I should

tell you more,’ she said. ‘The lines in your hand fork many

times, you will decide which route to take as you approach

them. But perhaps you can avoid the pain, perhaps you can

overcome the fear and the danger if I tell you that there is

love there for you, a love so great that few people find it in

this life - but you will find it, and you will find it where you

least expect it… But never forget, child, that things are not

always as they seem.’

‘Not always as they seem …’ The words echoed through

Claudine’s mind as she sat there on the banks of the Vienne,

while the early evening breeze drifted through the trees of

the Lorvoire forest.

So, absurd as it was, that was why she was here, on the brink

of a new life, a life she could hardly begin to imagine - because

an old woman had told her to trust her instincts. And since the

day her father had first put the suggestion of this marriage to

her, Claudine’s instinct had told her that it was right. Just as

her instinct was telling her now that the ambiguity of the

gypsy’s final words concerned Francois de Lorvoire.

But the other man, the second man, who was he? And was

he the danger, or was he the great love? Again, as she had many

times these past six weeks, Claudine searched her mind for the

elusive words the gypsy had spoken. She had said something

more, something about the other man that was important. But

Claudine simply couldn’t remember what it was.

Breakfast on Sunday morning was served on the garden

roof of the chateau’s east wing, overlooking the orchard of

dwarf-like fruit trees and the maize fields beyond. The

breeze was no more than a whisper of warm air carrying the

mingled scents of roses, cut grass and freshly ground coffee.

The only sounds were the billing and cooing of the doves

and the distant clatter of dishes in the kitchens below.

The previous day, Magaly had arrived from Paris bearing

the dresses, suits, hats, shoes and lingerie Claudine had

been fitted for during her stay. Even Celine, whose

shopping sprees were legendary, had been amazed at how

much Claudine had managed to purchase in such a short

time, but she was even more impressed once the garments

had been removed from their protective coverings.

Claudine’s knowledge of what suited her had always been

exceptional, but on this occasion she had managed to excel

herself. With amusement, Celine noted that virtually every

designer in Paris was represented in the garments that

spilled from the endless number of tissue-strewn boxes

scattered around her niece’s bedchamber, from

Schiaparelli’s startling pinks and circus prints, to Piguet’s

sumptuously risque evening gowns, to Mainbocher’s

sophisticated daytime elegance.

Now, with so many things to choose from and with such

an important day ahead, the conversation over breakfast was

quite naturally about what Claudine should wear. Beavis,

with his head buried in the newspaper and a plate of

untouched kedgeree in front of him, paid scant attention to

Celine’s deliberations on what would be correct for an

afternoon party in the country. Though the news from

Germany and Japan came as no surprise to him, it was

nonetheless disturbing, and he was beginning to wonder

just how long he would be able to stay in Touraine. Long

enough, he hoped, to see his daughter’s wedding.

Finally, heaving a weary sigh, he put the newspaper down

just as Celine, looking utterly charming in her peach satin

peignoir, signalled to Jean for more coffee. ‘I have quite run

out of suggestions, cherie,’ she declared to Claudine, ‘but I

have a suspicion that you have already made up your mind.’

‘Do you know, Tante Celine,’ Claudine responded in a

conspiratorial tone, ‘I do believe I have.’

‘Beavis!’ Celine cried. ‘She is impossible. Quite, quite

impossible. Thank you, Jean,’ she added, as he refilled her

cup.

Chuckling, Beavis picked up his fork. ‘What time are they

expecting us?’ he asked.

‘Around three. After lunch - which, knowing you two,

you will be able to eat. As for me, I am simply too nervous

even for breakfast. Claudine, are you really going to eat all that?’ she said, as Claudine returned from the hot-plate with another helping of kedgeree.

Claudine looked down at her plate. And it was then, quite

unexpectedly, that the first pang of apprehension wrenched

at her stomach, completely obliterating her appetite. ‘I was going to,’ she said uncertainly. She sat down, and started to look anxiously around the table.

‘They’re under the newspaper,’ Beavis said, and watched

Celine’s bewildered expression as Claudine located the

cigarette packet and took one out.

‘You have an uncanny knack of doing that,’ Celine

remarked, smiling despite herself at the way Beavis had read

his daughter’s mind. ‘Perhaps, as an encore, you can

enlighten me as to what she is intending to wear today.’

‘Now that,’ Beavis answered, ‘is beyond even me.’

Claudine, still clad in black jodhpurs, riding boots and a

white silk shirt after her early morning canter across the

fields, got up from the table, wandered to the edge of the

terrace and leaned against the ornate railings. Her sudden

attack of nerves had disturbed her deeply; part of her was so

happy that she wanted to throw out her arms and embrace