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Authors: Susan Lewis
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she
remembered that of course he would have had to change his
clothes.
‘How was your… ? How did… ? Celine laughed, ‘I
don’t know how to put it,’ she said.
‘How was our first meeting?’ Claudine suggested, helpfully.
‘It was … eventful.’
‘But what do you think of him?’
‘I imagine, the same as he thinks of me.’
Celine’s face brightened as she let go of Claudine’s hands
and embraced her. ‘Oh, thank heavens, cherie. So you will
put all this nonsense behind you now and return to
London?’
‘Oh, Tame Celine,’ Claudine laughed, ‘to think that you
have such little faith in my charms!’ She pushed her aunt
away, but keeping her hands on her shoulders, she said,
‘You are presuming, are you not, that he found me … how
shall I put it? Not to his taste?’
Celine’s eyes rounded. ‘You mean, I am wrong? You
mean that he has… ?’ She blinked. ‘Has he asked you to marry him?’
‘Not yet, but he will.’
‘And you are going to accept?’
‘Of course.’
Celine took a step back from her niece, and stared at her.
‘Claudine,’ she said, ‘what has happened to you? You are
not yourself. Your eyes, they are so cold. What has he done
to you? Oh to think that I could have allowed this to happen,
what would your poor mother say if she could see you now?’
‘Please don’t distress yourself,’ Claudine smiled.
‘Francois has done nothing to me, except perhaps to open
my eyes to the reality of what our marriage will be like. And
maybe it would help you to know that I want this marriage
now with all my heart.’
‘Your heart? Mon Dieu!’ You have fallen in love with him!’
Laughing, Claudine slipped an arm around her aunt’s
shoulders and started to lead her back to the house. ‘You are
jumping to conclusions, Tante Celine,’ she said. ‘I mentioned
nothing about love.’
And after that she refused to discuss him any further, for
in truth she had no idea why she was still so determined to
marry Francois when she found him so utterly abhorrent,
and when every shred of common sense she possessed was
screaming at her to leave Touraine and never return.
4
In the days that followed her first encounter with Francois,
Claudine became aware that the boundaries of her world
were beginning to draw in. It was as though anywhere
beyond Lorvoire and Montvisse had become so far distant
as no longer to matter: the focus of her life was here, these
few acres of French countryside - and the man she was
unshakably determined to marry.
It surprised her a little to find that she harboured no
desire to return to the glamorous, carefree life she had
pursued in London, and there were moments, as she
roamed about the gardens of Montvisse, or gazed at herself
in the mirror while Magaly fought with her wilful hair, when
she found herself as intimidated and perplexed by her
determination to marry him as she was by Francois himself.
The emotion she experienced every time she thought of him
was always enough to restore the unparalleled sense of
purpose he had left her with - and yet, whenever she
thought seriously about her future she felt as though she was
being sucked into an ever-changing mirage, in which that
saturnine, almost sinister presence dominated and eclipsed
her. But despite the confusion, she was determined to see
the marriage through, and there was nothing in her outward
manner to indicate either the resentment she bore Francois,
or the self-loathing she felt whenever she recalled her
behaviour that day in the water-garden. On the contrary,
she gave every appearance of being happier than Celine
could remember, which, given Claudine’s intrinsic joy in
life, was quite something to witness.
In the middle of the week Claudine’s Lagonda arrived
from England. To see her niece hover round Pierre for a full
two hours while he checked the car over, to see her take a
cloth herself to make sure every inch of the
remembered that of course he would have had to change his
clothes.
‘How was your… ? How did… ? Celine laughed, ‘I
don’t know how to put it,’ she said.
‘How was our first meeting?’ Claudine suggested, helpfully.
‘It was … eventful.’
‘But what do you think of him?’
‘I imagine, the same as he thinks of me.’
Celine’s face brightened as she let go of Claudine’s hands
and embraced her. ‘Oh, thank heavens, cherie. So you will
put all this nonsense behind you now and return to
London?’
‘Oh, Tame Celine,’ Claudine laughed, ‘to think that you
have such little faith in my charms!’ She pushed her aunt
away, but keeping her hands on her shoulders, she said,
‘You are presuming, are you not, that he found me … how
shall I put it? Not to his taste?’
Celine’s eyes rounded. ‘You mean, I am wrong? You
mean that he has… ?’ She blinked. ‘Has he asked you to marry him?’
‘Not yet, but he will.’
‘And you are going to accept?’
‘Of course.’
Celine took a step back from her niece, and stared at her.
‘Claudine,’ she said, ‘what has happened to you? You are
not yourself. Your eyes, they are so cold. What has he done
to you? Oh to think that I could have allowed this to happen,
what would your poor mother say if she could see you now?’
‘Please don’t distress yourself,’ Claudine smiled.
‘Francois has done nothing to me, except perhaps to open
my eyes to the reality of what our marriage will be like. And
maybe it would help you to know that I want this marriage
now with all my heart.’
‘Your heart? Mon Dieu!’ You have fallen in love with him!’
Laughing, Claudine slipped an arm around her aunt’s
shoulders and started to lead her back to the house. ‘You are
jumping to conclusions, Tante Celine,’ she said. ‘I mentioned
nothing about love.’
And after that she refused to discuss him any further, for
in truth she had no idea why she was still so determined to
marry Francois when she found him so utterly abhorrent,
and when every shred of common sense she possessed was
screaming at her to leave Touraine and never return.
4
In the days that followed her first encounter with Francois,
Claudine became aware that the boundaries of her world
were beginning to draw in. It was as though anywhere
beyond Lorvoire and Montvisse had become so far distant
as no longer to matter: the focus of her life was here, these
few acres of French countryside - and the man she was
unshakably determined to marry.
It surprised her a little to find that she harboured no
desire to return to the glamorous, carefree life she had
pursued in London, and there were moments, as she
roamed about the gardens of Montvisse, or gazed at herself
in the mirror while Magaly fought with her wilful hair, when
she found herself as intimidated and perplexed by her
determination to marry him as she was by Francois himself.
The emotion she experienced every time she thought of him
was always enough to restore the unparalleled sense of
purpose he had left her with - and yet, whenever she
thought seriously about her future she felt as though she was
being sucked into an ever-changing mirage, in which that
saturnine, almost sinister presence dominated and eclipsed
her. But despite the confusion, she was determined to see
the marriage through, and there was nothing in her outward
manner to indicate either the resentment she bore Francois,
or the self-loathing she felt whenever she recalled her
behaviour that day in the water-garden. On the contrary,
she gave every appearance of being happier than Celine
could remember, which, given Claudine’s intrinsic joy in
life, was quite something to witness.
In the middle of the week Claudine’s Lagonda arrived
from England. To see her niece hover round Pierre for a full
two hours while he checked the car over, to see her take a
cloth herself to make sure every inch of the
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