Chapter 38
It had been decided that Hélène and Simon’s wedding should be a quiet one, just the families on both sides and a few close friends. Hélène was glad; she didn’t want the huge celebrations that had attended Clarice’s nuptials, bringing unwelcome memories of the day when she’d first seen Rupert. The actual marriage would take place in the Mairie followed by a service conducted by Father Bernard in the church, but it would be a low-key affair without bridesmaids or other attendants. There would be a select group invited to the wedding breakfast at Belair, after which the newly married couple would quietly retire to their new home to begin their married life.
Annette had been told she would be moving with Hélène, and safe in the knowledge that Pierre was waiting for her, she was happy enough to go.
When Hélène is thrust into that house of strangers, Annette thought, she’ll need me as a friend to confide in, as well as a maid to look after her.
She was folding Hélène’s clothes into a trunk for transportation to the Garden House when Lizette appeared, breathless, at the bedroom door.
‘Annette, Madame wants you in the drawing room,’ she said. ‘Right away.’
Annette smoothed the blue silk evening dress she had been folding into the case and, getting up from her knees, hurried downstairs. In the drawing room she found Madame St Clair and Hélène seated by the fire, and Simon Barnier pacing the floor like a caged lion.
‘Ah, Annette,’ said her mistress. ‘Monsieur Barnier is taking Miss Hélène over to Gavrineau directly. The carriage is waiting outside. Please be ready to attend them.’
Annette bobbed a curtsy and said, ‘Yes, madame, at once.’
She quickly collected her own hat and coat and then helped Hélène into hers, a new fur, a present from her father. Ten minutes later they were bowling down the drive in the Gavrineau chaise, driven by Simon himself. Hélène and Annette were seated side by side behind him. Neither of them spoke, anxious, in front of Simon, to maintain the relationship of mistress and maid. Though shafts of pale winter sunshine occasionally burst through the clouds, there was also a chill in the air and despite her new coat, Hélène shivered.
The carriage turned in through the gates of Gavrineau and made its way along the tree-lined drive, the bare branches of the winter avenue stark against the grey January sky. Ahead of her Hélène could see Gavrineau itself, standing sombre and tall. It was an imposing house with echoes of the chateau it might have been in earlier days, but its turrets were now to add grandeur rather than for fortification, and its windows were wide and high to let in light and to offer a view. Hélène knew the house from childhood, but it was not yet to be her home and she was glad. Used as she was to the easy comfort of Belair, she found Gavrineau too grandiose for her taste, with its sweeping staircases and marble floors. She and Simon were to live in the much smaller Garden House, which had been built for Simon’s great-grandmother when she was widowed.
‘I’ve never been into the Garden House before,’ Hélène had confided to Annette earlier that day when she’d had a message to say that Simon intended to take her there that afternoon. ‘I’ve been to Gavrineau many times, but until she died last winter, old Madame Barnier, Monsieur’s mother, was living in there. I wonder what it will be like inside.’
Annette wondered too. If nothing had changed since the old lady had died, it might be rather old-fashioned. Perhaps Monsieur Barnier would let Hélène redecorate it, at least that would give her something interesting to think about; but for the moment Annette kept those thoughts to herself – they were suggestions for another day.
When the carriage reached the wide gravel sweep in front of the portico, it did not stop but proceeded slowly round the side of the house, following the extended drive until it drew up in front of the Garden House, and Hélène saw her future home. Simon handed her down from the chaise and, turning to Annette, said brusquely, ‘You can wait outside. I prefer to show Miss Hélène round her new home in private.’
Annette saw a look of anxiety flit across Hélène’s face, but it was gone as soon as it had come, and raising her chin, Hélène preceded her fiancé up the steps to the front door.
Annette knew she would have to do as he ordered, but as soon as Simon had unlocked the door and they’d stepped inside, she moved quickly to stand in the porch, which would give her some protection from the east wind… and keep her closer to Hélène.
As she reached its shelter, she heard Simon say, ‘I have employed an entirely new staff for the house. My grandmother’s servants were well past the age of service and I turned them off. I have chosen the new servants very carefully, experienced staff who know how a household should be maintained; they will answer to me until you have established yourself as mistress. I will see them installed tomorrow, ready for when we come home from Belair the following day.’
‘You seem to have thought of everything,’ Hélène said softly, and then, although she continued speaking, they passed out of her hearing and Annette could only hear her voice, not what she was actually saying.
She waited in the porch for some time as Simon took Hélène into the reception rooms on the ground floor. Their footsteps returned across the hall and Annette heard Simon saying, ‘… and of course you may furnish your parlour as you choose. Now, let’s go upstairs.’
Hélène had liked the principal rooms downstairs, elegant and tasteful, nothing too grand or stately. She followed Simon up to the first-floor landing, where the corridor divided, leading to the two wings that projected from the back of the house. He turned left and led her past two closed doors before flinging a third one wide and standing aside to let her enter.
‘This will be your bedchamber, Hélène,’ he said. ‘It was my grandmother’s, but I have had it redecorated, ready for you.’
Hélène walked to the middle of the room and looked about her. The walls had been covered in pale grey silk, and the hangings were of a deep rose pink; not what she would have chosen but inoffensive enough. The room was comfortably furnished with a large bed, dressing table, wardrobe and chest of drawers. Two easy chairs stood on either side of the wide fireplace, in which a fire was already laid, simply awaiting a match. At one end of the room was another door, leading to a cabinet furnished for her ablutions, and beside it was yet another door, but when she tried the handle, thinking it a further closet, Hélène found it was locked. She looked questioningly at Simon and asked, ‘Why is this cupboard locked?’
‘It’s not a cupboard, my dear, it’s the door that leads to my bedchamber, the next room. When I come to your bed, I will simply unlock it and walk through.’ He reached for her hand and said, ‘Nothing could be more convenient.’
‘And where is my key?’
‘Your key?’ His voice hardened. ‘Why would you need a key? You won’t be coming to my chamber… unless I tell you to, in which case I will unlock the door for you.’
‘But…’ faltered Hélène.
‘But what?’ His grip tightened on her hand. ‘Are you suggesting that there might be occasions when you’ll be unwilling to receive your husband as you should?’ He looked at her sardonically. ‘Surely not! I’m certain your mother has explained that a husband has his needs… and it is up to you to satisfy them.’ He grasped her other wrist and pulled her to him, making her cry out.
‘Simon! Stop! Let go! You’re hurting me.’ Hélène tried to jerk her hands free, but he held them fast.
‘Stop?’ he teased. ‘My dear girl, I haven’t started yet.’ There was something in his voice, a tone, a roughness that triggered a memory and made her shudder.
‘I just thought,’ he went on, ‘that you might like a little foretaste of what will happen when I come to visit you on our wedding night.’ He spoke mildly, as if explaining to a child. ‘Just so that you understand what I expect of you.’
He was too strong for her, and despite her efforts to break away, he pulled her closely against him. She could feel the length of his body leaning against hers, somet
hing hard pressing against her stomach. His breath was hot on her face, but she felt an icy chill as further memories slid into her mind. ‘Don’t!’ she cried. ‘Don’t! Leave me alone.’
It was a strangled cry, but Simon took no notice of her distress, simply lowering his head and kissing her long and hard, his tongue probing her mouth. She almost gagged as she tried to curl her own tongue away so that it didn’t touch his. Still she had the taste of him in her mouth and it almost made her sick. Even when at last he raised his head, she could not break free, his body pressing on hers as he edged her into a corner of the room, trapping her against the wall. She struggled, still trying to pull away, and seeing the fear in her eyes, he gave a soft laugh. Fear in a woman’s eyes had always been an aphrodisiac to him and it was no less so now that this woman he wanted would soon be his wife… to do with as he chose; such anticipation was exciting.
He looked down at her and smiled. ‘What’s the matter,’ he mocked, ‘didn’t the Englishman kiss you properly like this?’
‘Certainly not!’ she cried. ‘He was a gentleman!’
‘Ah, but you see, husbands don’t have to be gentlemen,’ he told her. Holding her face firmly between his hands, he bent his head once more to claim her mouth – one last taste before, in two days’ time, he could claim the rest of her. But as he lowered his lips to hers, she twisted away, letting out a piercing scream. With an oath he slapped her cheek, cutting off her scream, and let her go.
Annette, still standing shivering in the porch, heard Hélène’s terrified scream and flung herself in through the front door, and took the stairs two at a time. As she reached the landing, they were coming towards her with Simon saying in a loud and hectoring voice, ‘For goodness’ sake, Hélène, it was only a spider! A large one, I’ll grant you, but only a spider nonetheless. I’m afraid that you’ll have to get used to those here. The Garden House is an old building and there are bound to be spiders.’
As he spoke his fingers gripped more tightly round her wrist, the stone of his signet ring biting painfully into her flesh. She dared not speak out, and he knew it. He turned his wrath on Annette. ‘I thought I told you to wait outside,’ he growled.
‘I beg your pardon, monsieur.’ Annette was all contrition. ‘I thought perhaps Miss Hélène had had a fall. I came to help.’
‘There is no need of your help when Miss Hélène is with me, and I’ll thank you to remember it!’
Annette ducked her head submissively and murmured, ‘Yes, monsieur.’ She had seen the mark of his hand on Hélène’s face, but wisely dropped her eyes again, giving no indication.
‘Well,’ he said briskly, ‘enough of that now. It’s time to get your mistress back to Belair. I’m sure she’s longing to tell her parents of the arrangements I’ve made here for her comfort.’
They went back downstairs, and having handed Hélène into the chaise, Simon turned back to lock the house while Annette waited for permission to get in beside her mistress.
Simon, turning back towards her, gripped Annette by the wrist. ‘Miss Hélène was disturbed by a large spider,’ he said softly, ‘and I wish to hear nothing else about it.’ His voice was menacing as he added, ‘You understand me, Annette? One word and I’ll throw you out on the street.’
‘Yes, monsieur, I understand you very well.’ And she did. She didn’t know exactly what had happened upstairs in the bedroom, but seeing the red mark on Hélène’s face she could guess. Hélène sat beside her, pale-faced and mute, as Simon drove them back to Belair.
Simon did not stay once he had seen Hélène into the house. Before he turned back towards the front door, he said, ‘My compliments to your mother, my dear, but I must beg her to excuse me. I have to return to Gavrineau directly. My mother’s sister is arriving today and I must be there to greet her.’ He reached for Hélène’s hand and lifted it to his lips. She kept her eyes lowered but he squeezed her hand hard, his signet ring again digging into her skin, leaving a deep indentation as if in wax, as if he had sealed her as his own.
The moment Didier closed the door behind him, Hélène went straight upstairs, retreating to the sanctuary of her room, and locked herself in. She flung herself down on her bed in a depth of despair too deep for tears. She had seen the look in Simon’s eyes as he’d held her face in his hands. He had been enjoying her fear, and that was the most frightening thing of all.
Chapter 39
Annette went into the kitchen, where Agathe was discussing the preparations for the wedding breakfast with Madame Paquet. Agathe took one look at Annette’s face and brought her conversation to a close, saying, ‘I’m sure it will be perfect, Adèle. I rely on you entirely.’
‘Aunt Agathe, I need to talk to you for a moment.’ Seeing how serious Annette looked, Agathe led her into her sitting room and closed the door.
‘You look worried,’ she said. ‘What on earth’s happened?’
‘I am worried, Aunt. We’ve just been to the Garden House with Monsieur Barnier…’ She hesitated, trying to find the words to explain.
‘And…?’ prompted Agathe.
‘And something happened while we were there.’
‘Something? What something?’
Annette explained how she had been told to wait outside while Monsieur Barnier showed Hélène round the house that was going to be her home.
‘He’s dismissed all the servants who waited on old Madame Barnier and he’s hired a whole new staff. Hélène won’t know any of them, except me.’
‘That usually happens when a bride moves into her new home,’ Agathe pointed out. ‘Even if the old servants were still there, she wouldn’t know them, would she?’
‘No,’ agreed Annette cautiously, ‘but surely a new bride should have some say in the hiring of those who will wait on her.’
‘Perhaps Monsieur Barnier simply wanted to save her the trouble of engaging new servants.’
Annette shook her head. ‘No, Aunt, I think he has chosen them to spy on her.’
‘That’s a serious accusation,’ Agathe warned her. ‘You must be careful what you say.’
‘I’m only saying it to you,’ Annette said. ‘But that’s not all. Something happened while we were there. I was waiting downstairs in the porch as instructed while he took her upstairs to show her her bedchamber. They had been up there for some time when Hélène suddenly screamed. Such a scream! I rushed upstairs to see what had happened, but by the time I got to them they were coming back along the landing and Monsieur Barnier was scolding her for screaming at the sight of a spider.’
‘Perhaps she had…?’ suggested Agathe mildly.
‘That scream was not about a spider, Aunt, it was a scream of pure terror. You should have seen her face.’
‘But what could he have done with you standing in the hall downstairs?’
‘Almost anything,’ replied Annette. ‘He had certainly hit her, the mark of his hand was red on her cheek. He’s a monster and she shouldn’t be marrying him.’
‘Well,’ said Agathe with a sigh, ‘there’s nothing we can do about that.’
‘Isn’t there?’ Annette looked at her. ‘I know what it’s like to be dominated by a man and have no escape. I was lucky. I could simply walk away, flee when he was out of the house, but if she marries Simon Barnier she’ll never have that choice. Even when he’s not there, she’ll be surrounded by his people, watching her every move. She’ll be tied to him for life.’
At that moment they heard a bell ring in the kitchen. ‘That’s her bell,’ Annette said, getting to her feet. ‘I’d better go and help her dress for dinner.’
‘Annette, please tread carefully,’ Agathe warned. ‘You must say nothing of your own troubles.’
‘Troubles?’
‘Father Thomas!’ Agathe whispered as if she might be overheard.
‘Don’t worry, Aunt, she knows about him already.’
‘Hélène does? Who told her?’ One look at Annette’s face gave her the answer. ‘Oh, Annette, how could you? If Madame St
Clair ever hears that, we shall both be turned out into the street.’
‘Hélène and I agreed that neither of us would tell, so if you don’t, then Madame won’t know, will she? Look,’ she went on, ‘I’ve been through it all, I know what it’s like. Father Thomas and Simon Barnier are exactly the same. They’re bullies. They simply take what they want from a woman… because they’re stronger… because they can.’
The bell rang again, louder and longer than before, and Annette hurried out of the little sitting room and upstairs to Hélène.
Left alone in her sitting room, Agathe thought about what Annette had told her. She did not like Simon Barnier, but unless she changed her mind, Hélène was going to be married to him in two days’ time and there was certainly nothing they could do about it.
She remembered the day, seven years ago, when Father Thomas had found Hélène in the church. She, as the clergy housekeeper, had been called and had taken the child back to the Clergy House to wash and feed her. Agathe had immediately realised that something had happened to her. There had been bruises on her body and it had been clear that she was afraid of men – she was certainly afraid of Father Thomas. Agathe had guessed that someone, somewhere, had been abusing her. She remembered the child’s nightmares, and knew that it was for this reason that Madame St Clair had been determined Hélène should not hear of Annette’s misfortunes. Annette said Hélène had screamed in terror and it was nothing to do with a spider. Agathe feared that she might be right and wondered what had occurred. Had Simon Barnier really hit her? He seemed so cultivated, with such civilised manners. But even if he had done whatever it was, there was surely nothing that she and Annette could do about it.
The French Wife Page 31