The Eden Inheritance (22 page)

As she went down the stairs the study door opened and Christian came out. She jumped guiltily; she had not known any of the family were still in the house.

‘Christian – I thought you were at the distillery!'

‘I'll bet you did. You've been visiting the tutor again, have you?'

She froze, her hand gripping the banister.

‘What do you mean by that?'

‘Don't you know?'

‘No, I don't. I've been to see Paul, yes – he's not well this morning. He won't be able to take Guy for his lessons.'

‘I see. And I suppose he wasn't well last night either.'

She could not answer. Her mind was racing in wild circles.

‘You might fool Charles, Katrine. You don't fool me.' Christian sounded almost amused, but she could hear the stern undertone. ‘There's something odd about that man. I've always thought so. And I've seen the way he looks at you, too. Is he your lover?'

‘No!' Hot colour flooded Kathryn's cheeks and ebbed away again. ‘No – of course he's not!'

‘Really? You find it necessary to discuss Guy's education in the middle of the night then, do you? I couldn't sleep last night. I got up to fetch a drink of water. And I saw you come out of his room. Don't deny it, Katrine. I'm not given to hallucinations.'

So I was right to be worried about Christian, Kathryn thought. I was right to think he was suspicious. The confirmation of her fears was making her feel sick and shaky, yet at the same time it was almost a relief. Kathryn hesitated, weighing up what she should say to him. Should she pretend that Paul
was
in fact her lover and then, when he disappeared, let Christian think he had gone because their alliance had been discovered? Or should she tell him the truth and ask for his help? Of all the family Kathryn felt that Christian was the most likely to be sympathetic. He did not like what his father and Charles were doing, he had showed it often enough. He hated the Boche, hated von Rheinhardt. And he was something of a rebel, she knew.

Quite suddenly Kathryn felt unable to go on with the charade alone. She needed an ally. Without further ado, she made up her mind. She would trust Christian with the truth and pray to God he would not fail her.

‘Can I talk to you, Christian?' she said.

His brows came together. ‘Now?'

‘Yes, now.'

‘It's private, I take it?'

‘Very much so.'

‘They went into the study and closed the door behind them.

‘
Mon dieu
,' Christian said when she had finished. ‘Well, I knew there was something going on but I never for one moment expected this!'

‘Thank goodness you didn't. It probably means no one else suspects either. But what are we going to do? Paul is insisting on leaving, but he's not fit to. He'd be caught in next to no time.'

‘Then he'll have to stay here. If he came to France to help us, the least we can do is help
him
.'

Relief flooded her. Christian might very well have taken the easy way out, refused to do anything to put the family in greater danger than they already were. He could have replied that Paul had known the risk he was taking and brought it all on himself. He could have – but he had not. In that moment she felt closer to Christian than at any time since she had come to Charente.

‘He needs to see a doctor,' she said. ‘That's the first priority, I think, and I don't know if we can trust Artigaux. I was going to take him to a contact of his in Périgueux but I'm not sure if there's enough petrol in the Hispano.'

‘I have some petrol in my car,' Christian said. ‘But if he intends leaving I should think the first priority is to persuade him not to. Then we'll work out some kind of plan.'

‘Will you come and talk to him with me? I was going to get him something to eat – give me a few minutes and then come up.'

‘Very well. But Papa is expecting me back at the distillery. I'll telephone and say I've been delayed.'

Kathryn left him and went down to the kitchen, fortunately deserted at this time of day. The breakfast dishes had been washed and put away and Bridget would now be with Guy, Kathryn knew. She made coffee and found some bread and home-made preserve, wishing she had confided in Christian earlier. She should have known that a man who had fought with the French army could be relied upon.

He was still in the study when she went back upstairs with Paul's breakfast tray – she could hear his voice on the other side of the door though not what he was saying – and as she went along the upper landing she heard the sound of Guy giggling helplessly.

‘Bridget – stop it! You're tickling me!'

A brief smile touched Kathryn's lips. Bridget was very fond of Guy and played games with him all the time. Please God don't let anything happen to turn his laughter to tears! she prayed.

The door to Paul's room was closed. She turned the handle and pushed. Nothing happened. She pushed harder. Still the door would not budge. Something was jamming it.

‘Paul!' she called, softly, urgently.

No reply.

Alarmed, Kathryn set the breakfast tray down on the floor and pushed at the door with both hands. It opened a crack, no more, but it was enough for her to see what was holding it jammed closed. It was Paul's body.

‘Oh my God!' she whispered.

Leaving the tray where it was and praying that Guy and Bridget would not come along and find it she ran back down the stairs.

Christian had finished his phone call; she met him in the doorway of the study.

‘What's wrong?' he asked, seeing her frightened face.

‘Come quickly, Christian. It's Paul. I think he has collapsed.'

He preceded her up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

‘You're right.' He dropped to his knees, managing to get the door open enough to force his arm inside. Useless. There was no way he could move Paul's inert body.

‘Paul! Can you hear me?' Christian called in a low voice.

Miraculously he was rewarded by a low groan. Paul must be beginning to regain consciousness.

‘Try to roll away from the door!' Christian hissed.

After a moment Paul managed to do as he said. The door, with Christian's weight behind it, opened all of a rush and he practically fell into the room, Kathryn close behind.

‘Paul!' She dropped to the floor beside him. He was pale as death, every vestige of colour drained from his face. ‘For God's sake, Paul, are you all right?'

Paul ignored her, looking up at Christian in horror.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘It's all right, Paul, he knows. I've told him.' Suddenly she remembered the breakfast tray, still in the corridor, and ran to fetch it.

Christian helped Paul to his feet, supporting him back to the bed. The fall had started his arm bleeding again – Kathryn could see fresh scarlet staining the towel.

‘What happened, Paul?' she asked, closing the door behind her.

‘I tried to get up. You were such a damned long time. I got as far as the door and then … I couldn't get any further.'

‘You fainted,' she said. ‘You're weak from loss of blood. Now do you believe me when I say you can't possibly go wandering off on your own? Christian is going to help us. I have told him everything and he is with us.' She tried to sound calm and reassuring, though in fact she only sounded panicky.

‘Why the hell didn't you say something before?' Christian said. ‘I've been wanting to do something for the Resistance for a long while but I didn't know who I could trust in this nest of collaborators. You can count on me.'

‘Christian says he has petrol in his car. We can get you to the doctor.'

‘I'll take you,' Christian offered.

Momentary relief flared in Paul's foggy eyes, then he shook his head.

‘It's too dangerous. If we should be stopped …'

‘For heaven's sake, man, what choice have you? You've got to get patched up. If we're stopped, let me do the talking. I'll say you put your arm through a window. It's all right – stop worrying. I'm well known round here.'

Paul laughed harshly.

‘That won't do you much good. Two Germans were shot last night. Didn't Kathryn tell you? Patrols will be everywhere.'

‘Do they know that whoever did the killing was also shot?'

‘Not unless they have seen the blood on the road. But I think I managed to stem it until I got to the crossroads, then I cut across the fields. I was bleeding like a pig by then.'

‘So they have no reason whatever to link the shooting of the Germans to the château?'

‘No. Let's face it, if they did they'd have been here by now.'

‘True,' Christian agreed ruefully. ‘ That's it, then. I'm getting my car out, then I'll come back for you. Give me five minutes,' Paul tried to say something but Christian cut him off. ‘You're in no shape to argue. You have already discovered you can't go anywhere by yourself and it's in our interests to make sore you are all right. The last thing we want is a dead body with a gunshot wound we can't explain on our hands.'

‘He's right,' Kathryn said when Christian had gone. ‘Not very tactful, perhaps, but right.'

‘You told him about the doctor in Périgueux,' Paul said belligerently. ‘ You shouldn't have done that.'

‘I had no choice but to trust him. You must see that.'

‘I suppose so. I'm sorry, Kathryn.'

‘Is there anything else we should know about what happened last night?' she asked, thinking of the aircraft she had thought she heard.

‘Not at the moment. The less you know the better. If we get away with this and I'm laid up for any length of time there may be things I shall have to ask you to do, though.'

‘Anything,' she said. ‘Your colour is beginning to come back now. Try to drink some coffee.'

She poured some into a cup and sat down on the bed beside him, steadying his hand while he drank it. When he had finished she set the cup down but remained sitting beside him, covering his hand with hers, and a sense of closeness enveloped them both. In spite of her anxiety, in spite of her fear, she felt a surge of fierce joy.

When Christian returned and found them sitting there his brows lifted slightly but he said nothing and they did not even realise how obvious was the bond between them. Not a word had been said but no words were needed. They were reaching out to one another on a level so basic that words would have been totally superfluous.

‘I've brought the car round to the door,' Christian said. He had taken charge with a swiftness and a decisiveness that surprised Kathryn – he had always seemed such an easy-going character, interested only in enjoying himself.

‘Shall I come with you?' she asked, unwilling to let Paul out of her sight.

‘Better not. There's no point putting you at risk as well. You can stay here and cover for us if necessary. When we've gone, break a window just in case I have to tell someone that's why Paul's arm is bleeding. I'd do it myself but I don't want to alert anyone by the sound of breaking glass before I've got him safely downstairs and into the car.'

‘But won't they think it odd they heard glass breaking
after
you'd gone?'

‘True. Perhaps it would be better to leave that. After all, if the Boche are suspicious enough to check on a broken window they'll be suspicious enough to examine Paul's arm, and I don't suppose a gunshot wound could be confused with a bad cut. The bullet isn't still in it, is it?'

‘I don't know. I haven't felt up to investigating.'

‘All right. Check the coast is clear for us, Kathryn, then stay here to ward off Bridget should she come out of Guy's room. And don't worry!'

He helped Paul up and supported him along the passage and down the stairs. A few minutes later Kathryn heard the sound of the car starting up and watched from the window as it passed below. She could see Christian's face, tense with concentration, but not Paul's. He was hunched in the seat, leaning his head against the glass.

Don't worry! she thought in anguish. All very well to say that – she would not be able to stop worrying until they were safely back again. And even then there would be a new set of problems to confront.

But at least this way Paul stood a chance and at least she had an ally in the camp. That alone would make things easier.

When the car had disappeared down the drive Kathryn spent a few moments collecting herself and then went in search of Guy and Bridget.

The hours passed more slowly than Kathryn would have believed possible. She was nervous as a kitten, jumping at every sound and watching the drive long before she knew she could reasonably expect them back.

‘What's the matter, Mummy?' Guy asked, noticing. ‘You're funny!'

‘No I'm not. Don't be silly, Guy.'

‘Where is Paul? Aren't I having any lessons today?' He looked forward to the sessions with Paul; they stimulated him in a way Bridget's games never could.

‘Paul has gone out with Uncle Christian,' she said vaguely, praying they would be back before Charles and Guillaume came home from the distillery and there were more questions to answer. ‘I'll take you for some lessons,' she went on. ‘Fetch your book and you can read to me, show me how you are getting on.'

It would keep him quiet and take her mind off the waiting, she had thought. But sitting beside him, watching his small plump finger trace the words, she was not sure it was such a good idea. She could not concentrate and every time he stumbled and she had to correct him she wanted to scream.

‘That's enough for now,' she said when she could stand it no longer. ‘ Why don't you put on your coat and go out to play for a little while?'

‘I don't know what to do.'

‘Guy, you have a hundred and one things to do. Go and ride your tricyde in the yard. It's a lovely day – the fresh air will do you good.'