restore your spirits. Besides, the weather in Paris is intolerable. Blustery and wet one day, and temperatures that would not shame the Algerian deserts the next.' 'I own that is true, but-'
'And you were telling me how much you wished for an adventure, yet when an opportunity presents itself, you are too timid to take it.'
'But Tante Isolde might be thoroughly disagreeable. And how would I occupy my time in the country? There will be nothing for me to do.' Léonie threw a challenging glance at her mother. 'M'man, you never talk about the Domaine de la Cade with anything other than dislike.'
'It was a long time ago,' Marguerite said quietly. 'Perhaps things are different.'
Léonie tried an alternative approach.
'But the journey will take days and days. I cannot possibly travel so far. Not without a chaperone.'
Marguerite let her gaze settle on her daughter. 'No, no . . . of course not. But, as it happens, last evening General Du Pont suggested he and I might visit the Marne Valley for a few weeks. If I were able to accept his invitation . . .' She broke off and turned to her son. 'Might I prevail upon you, Anatole, to accompany Léonie to the Midi?' 'I am certain I could be spared for a few days.' 'But, M'man,' Léonie objected.
Her brother talked over her. 'In point of fact, I was just saying how I was considering a few days out of town. This way, the two things could be combined to everybody's satisfaction. And,' he added, fixing his sister with a conspiratorial smile, 'if you are anxious about being so far from home, petite, and alone in an unfamiliar environment, I am sure Tante Isolde could be prevailed upon to extend her invitation to me also.'
At last, Léonie caught up with Anatole's reasoning. 'Oh,' she said. 'Could you be spared for a week or two, Anatole?' Marguerite pressed. 'Pour ma petite soeur, anything,' he said. He smiled at Leonie. 'If you wish to accept the invitation, then I am at your service.'
She felt the first prickling of excitement. To be at liberty to walk in the open countryside, and to breathe unpolluted air. To be free to read what she wished and when she wished without fear of criticism or rebuke.
To have Anatole to myself.
She weighed the matter a little longer, not wishing it to be obvious that she and Anatole were in league together. The fact that her mother had not cared for the Domaine de la Cade did not mean that she would not. She looked sideways at Anatole's battered, handsome face. She had thought the whole business behind them. Last evening had brought it home to her that it was not.
'Very well,' she said, feeling a rush of blood to her head. 'If Anatole will accompany me and perhaps stay until I am comfortably settled, then yes, I shall accept.' She turned to Marguerite. 'M'man, please would you write to thank Tante Isolde and say that I - we - will be delighted to accept her generous invitation.'
'I shall send a wire and confirm the dates she has suggested.'
Anatole grinned. He raised his coffee cup. 'A I'avenir,' he said.
Léonie returned the toast. 'To the future,' she laughed. And to the Domaine de la Cade.'
PART II
Paris October 2007
CHAPTER 9
Paris
Friday 26th October 2007
Meredith Martin stared at her reflection in the window as the train hurtled towards the Eurostar terminal in Paris. Black hair, white face. Stripped of colour, she didn't look so good. She glanced at her watch.
A quarter of nine. Nearly there, thank God.
The grey backs of houses and small towns flashed by in the gloom, more frequent now. The compartment was pretty empty. A couple of French businesswomen in pressed white shirts and grey pantsuits. Two students asleep on their backpacks. The soft tapping of computer keys, low calls made on cell phones, the rustle of the late-edition newspapers - French, English, American. Across the aisle, a quartet of lawyers in striped shirts and chinos with razor-sharp creases, heading home for the weekend. Talking loudly
'And you were telling me how much you wished for an adventure, yet when an opportunity presents itself, you are too timid to take it.'
'But Tante Isolde might be thoroughly disagreeable. And how would I occupy my time in the country? There will be nothing for me to do.' Léonie threw a challenging glance at her mother. 'M'man, you never talk about the Domaine de la Cade with anything other than dislike.'
'It was a long time ago,' Marguerite said quietly. 'Perhaps things are different.'
Léonie tried an alternative approach.
'But the journey will take days and days. I cannot possibly travel so far. Not without a chaperone.'
Marguerite let her gaze settle on her daughter. 'No, no . . . of course not. But, as it happens, last evening General Du Pont suggested he and I might visit the Marne Valley for a few weeks. If I were able to accept his invitation . . .' She broke off and turned to her son. 'Might I prevail upon you, Anatole, to accompany Léonie to the Midi?' 'I am certain I could be spared for a few days.' 'But, M'man,' Léonie objected.
Her brother talked over her. 'In point of fact, I was just saying how I was considering a few days out of town. This way, the two things could be combined to everybody's satisfaction. And,' he added, fixing his sister with a conspiratorial smile, 'if you are anxious about being so far from home, petite, and alone in an unfamiliar environment, I am sure Tante Isolde could be prevailed upon to extend her invitation to me also.'
At last, Léonie caught up with Anatole's reasoning. 'Oh,' she said. 'Could you be spared for a week or two, Anatole?' Marguerite pressed. 'Pour ma petite soeur, anything,' he said. He smiled at Leonie. 'If you wish to accept the invitation, then I am at your service.'
She felt the first prickling of excitement. To be at liberty to walk in the open countryside, and to breathe unpolluted air. To be free to read what she wished and when she wished without fear of criticism or rebuke.
To have Anatole to myself.
She weighed the matter a little longer, not wishing it to be obvious that she and Anatole were in league together. The fact that her mother had not cared for the Domaine de la Cade did not mean that she would not. She looked sideways at Anatole's battered, handsome face. She had thought the whole business behind them. Last evening had brought it home to her that it was not.
'Very well,' she said, feeling a rush of blood to her head. 'If Anatole will accompany me and perhaps stay until I am comfortably settled, then yes, I shall accept.' She turned to Marguerite. 'M'man, please would you write to thank Tante Isolde and say that I - we - will be delighted to accept her generous invitation.'
'I shall send a wire and confirm the dates she has suggested.'
Anatole grinned. He raised his coffee cup. 'A I'avenir,' he said.
Léonie returned the toast. 'To the future,' she laughed. And to the Domaine de la Cade.'
PART II
Paris October 2007
CHAPTER 9
Paris
Friday 26th October 2007
Meredith Martin stared at her reflection in the window as the train hurtled towards the Eurostar terminal in Paris. Black hair, white face. Stripped of colour, she didn't look so good. She glanced at her watch.
A quarter of nine. Nearly there, thank God.
The grey backs of houses and small towns flashed by in the gloom, more frequent now. The compartment was pretty empty. A couple of French businesswomen in pressed white shirts and grey pantsuits. Two students asleep on their backpacks. The soft tapping of computer keys, low calls made on cell phones, the rustle of the late-edition newspapers - French, English, American. Across the aisle, a quartet of lawyers in striped shirts and chinos with razor-sharp creases, heading home for the weekend. Talking loudly
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