The French Wife

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘No, monsieur, I’m sure he wasn’t. If you’ll excuse me I’ll go up to his suite.’

  Rocher returned through the old oak door to his quarters, and Parker went up to the empty suite and looked down into the street. There were plenty of people about, but no sign of Redhead, or anyone else idly loitering as if waiting for someone.

  Parker went back downstairs and walked away down the road, turning into the Boulevard St Germain and taking a circuitous route to St Eustache. When he was quite sure he had shaken any possible tail, he made his way to the church, where Rupert was waiting.

  ‘I’m going to speak to someone now you’re here,’ Rupert told him. ‘Keep your eyes peeled and if there’s any sign we’re being watched, simply walk past me whistling and we’ll deal with it.’

  While he had been waiting for Parker to find him, he had walked through the marketplace and spotted the poulterer’s stall, where Annette was dealing with a customer. He would go nowhere near her until Parker returned without a tail.

  Now, he wandered casually between the jumble of stalls, pausing at several before approaching Annette.

  Although she had been expecting him, she only saw him at the last minute.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said with a smile.

  Annette looked anxiously about her, but no one seemed to be interested in either of them.

  ‘We can’t talk here,’ she said and, pointing out the café she and Pierre usually frequented, added, ‘I’ll meet you there as soon as Benny comes back.’

  Twenty minutes later they were sitting in the corner at the back of the café with coffee and pastries in front of them.

  ‘How is she?’ Rupert asked. ‘Is she safe?’

  ‘She’s quite safe,’ replied Annette. ‘No one knows where we are.’

  ‘Well,’ Rupert said, ‘I don’t want to worry you, but Simon Barnier turned up at my hotel this morning, warning me away. Saying that he and Hélène were about to get married.’

  ‘How did he know where to find you?’

  Rupert shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Just bad luck, I think. He must have seen me yesterday when I arrived. Anyway, he came to the hotel this morning to warn me off.’

  Annette stared at him, pale-faced. ‘What did you do? What did you say?’

  ‘Well, first of all I didn’t say I wasn’t married,’ Rupert said, ‘so he doesn’t think I’m a real threat at present. I don’t know how he found out I was in Paris, but he set someone to follow me when I left the hotel this morning.’

  ‘You haven’t been followed here, have you?’

  ‘No, my man Parker dealt with him. However, now they know where I’m staying, they may well try again and it would certainly be better if you didn’t come back to the hotel.’

  ‘Madame Sauze was here in Paris yesterday. She came to tell me that you were on your way and to warn you not to go to St Etienne. She was afraid you might meet up with Simon Barnier and everything would be stirred up again. Anyway, when she was catching the train she saw him. He was catching it too, though he didn’t see her at the time. The trouble is he did see her at the station when they arrived. She had waited until he’d disappeared but then almost bumped into him as he was getting into a fiacre.’

  ‘Did he speak to her?’

  ‘Yes, she told him she was going to a funeral. But the thing is, he seemed to know what was happening at Belair, news that Agathe had only heard herself the day before. He must have someone spying for him there.’

  ‘Then Pierre must take extra care,’ Rupert said.

  ‘Aunt Agathe was going to warn him. She considered warning Madame St Clair too, but that would have meant revealing that we were all involved in Hélène’s disappearance, and perhaps lead them to her.’

  ‘I think we have to leave that end of things to Pierre,’ Rupert said. ‘As long as he’s been warned. I’m more worried about what Simon Barnier is doing here in Paris and how he found me so quickly.’

  Silence lapsed about them for several moments as each of them assessed the new situation. It was Rupert who broke it, his thoughts returning to Hélène.

  ‘Will she see me, do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Annette. ‘She doesn’t know you’re here, and she doesn’t know… well, about your wife. You have to understand she was devastated when you wrote and told her you were married. It was only the second letter she’d had from you since you’d left.’

  ‘I know. My sister Frances was intercepting our letters, both the ones Hélène wrote to me and the ones I wrote her. Frances has admitted that now and I have all the letters she took.’

  ‘She didn’t take the one saying you were married,’ pointed out Annette. ‘Why was that?’

  ‘I didn’t know that she was taking them, but I posted that one myself.’ He looked at her worried face. ‘I had been going to suggest that you bring her to the hotel, where we could meet in private, but clearly we can’t do that now. Simon Barnier will suspect I’m up to something and have the hotel watched.’

  ‘Well, you can’t come to the apartment for the same reason,’ Annette told him firmly. ‘I’m not even going to tell you where it is, in case you’re tempted to come and bring your shadow with you.’

  ‘That’s fair enough for the moment,’ Rupert agreed. ‘Look, Annette, you’ve been a good friend to Hélène, and so I’m going to trust you even more than before.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle tied up in brown paper. ‘These are all the letters that Frances stole. She didn’t read them, they were still sealed when I got them back. I’ve opened them and when they are read in order, they tell the whole sorry story. Please will you go home to Hélène and tell her that I’m here in Paris? Tell her that Kitty, the girl I married, died with our child in February. Tell her… no, I’ll tell her that myself. Please give her the letters so that she can see I was begging her to write. Ask her to read them all and then ask her if she will let me come to her.’

  Annette hesitated and then reached for the bundle and tucked it into her bag. ‘I’ll tell her what you say,’ she promised. ‘I have to get back to the stall now, but if you come and find me tomorrow I’ll tell you.’ She stood up and went on, ‘Don’t come near me again today – if you’re being followed we can’t risk them transferring the follower to me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Annette.’ Rupert tried to sound reassuring. ‘I promise you, no one followed me this morning.’

  ‘Make sure no one does when you come tomorrow,’ warned Annette.

  When she had gone, the precious bundle of letters in her bag, Rupert ordered more coffee and waited for her to get safely back to the market stall. When he left the café, he found Parker waiting for him outside.

  ‘You saw that girl I was with?’ Rupert asked.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘When she leaves the market later today, I want you to follow her and see where she goes. I want to know where she lives, and make sure no one else is tailing her. I’m going back to the hotel now.’

  ‘What about your shadow, sir?’

  ‘Oh, if he’s come back, or I get another, I’ll keep them busy. There’s lots of Paris to see, after all! Report back to me at the hotel this evening and we’ll take it from there.’

  Chapter 48

  Annette left the market and walked back towards the apartment. Several times she stopped and turned suddenly, and once she went round a corner and ducked into a doorway, watching to see if anyone was following her, but by the time she approached the apartment building she was almost certain there was no one. Even so, she first went into the butcher’s shop as if to buy something, and looked out of the window. It was then that she nearly caught sight of Parker, but he, as he saw her looking out of the shop window, continued walking and disappeared round the corner. While the street was still empty, Annette slipped out of the shop and in through the door beside it, and ran up the stairs to the apartment.

  Hélène was sitting in the window, finishing collars and cuffs on some blouses. ‘They should p
ay more for these,’ she said as Annette came in. ‘They’re very fiddly!’ She looked up as Annette crossed to the window beside her and peered down into the street.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Hélène asked.

  ‘Just checking that I wasn’t followed here, but I can’t see anyone down there now.’

  ‘Followed?’ Hélène was immediately apprehensive. ‘Who was following you?’

  ‘No one, but yesterday Aunt Agathe came into Paris and when I saw her she said that Simon Barnier was on the same train, and though she tried to avoid him, he saw her at the station and demanded to know why she’d come in.’

  ‘Madame Sauze? Was she coming to see us?’ asked Hélène. ‘To bring us news from Belair? What did she say?’

  ‘She told him she was coming for a funeral.’

  ‘And was she?’

  ‘No, she was coming to find me. She wasn’t coming here, as she didn’t want to risk it, but she was coming to find me at the market, as she did have some news for us.’

  ‘What was it? Is someone ill? Maman or Louise?’

  ‘No, nothing like that, but we do have to talk, Hélène.’

  Hélène folded the last blouse and laid it aside. ‘Well, what news did she bring?’

  Annette didn’t answer immediately. On her way home from the market she had been deciding just how she would break the news about Rupert to Hélène. She had thought she would find the words when necessary, but now they failed her.

  ‘Was it bad news? Come on, Annette. Tell me.’

  ‘Not bad news, no,’ replied Annette. ‘Just something… surprising.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ urged Hélène with a smile. ‘Surprise me!’

  ‘Pierre has had a letter – well, it was addressed to him on the envelope, but inside it was to me.’

  ‘Who was it from?’

  ‘It was… it was from Rupert Chalfont.’

  The colour drained from Hélène’s face and she said, ‘I don’t think that’s a very good joke, Annette.’

  ‘I promise you, it isn’t a joke. He wrote to me to ask about you.’

  ‘Why?’ demanded Hélène angrily. ‘Why did he write to you? No, I don’t want to hear. I never want to hear a word about him, ever again.’

  Ignoring her outburst and knowing she must go on until she’d told all, Annette said, ‘He wrote to me because I wrote to him.’

  ‘You wrote to him?’ Hélène was incredulous. ‘Why? When? What for?’

  ‘I wrote to him back in January, to tell him you were going to marry Simon Barnier. I said I hoped it made him feel as sick as it made me.’

  Hélène managed a weak smile at that. ‘Nothing like as sick as it made me,’ she said.

  ‘Anyway, he didn’t write back,’ Annette went on. ‘I wasn’t surprised, I didn’t expect him to. He didn’t answer the letter Pierre wrote to him, back in the autumn.’

  ‘Pierre wrote to him? What on earth for?’

  ‘To ask him why he wasn’t answering your letters.’

  ‘Well, we know the answer to that now,’ said Hélène bitterly. ‘It was because he was married.’

  ‘Let me finish,’ Annette said firmly. ‘Let me explain everything.’

  Hélène gave a heavy sigh. ‘If you must.’

  ‘I must,’ insisted Annette, and quietly she began to explain exactly what had happened, about the letters, about Frances, about Kitty and her baby, and finally about Rupert being in Paris.

  ‘He thought, because of my letter in January, that you were married to Simon now, that you were beyond his reach. He had set my letter aside as he dealt with his father’s illness and death and then the death of his wife and baby. It was only when he came across it again very recently that he answered it, mentioning the three deaths his family had suffered, one of them being his wife. It was his final farewell to you. Pierre and I didn’t know what to do.’ For a moment Annette lapsed into silence.

  ‘So, what did you do?’

  ‘We talked it through and in the end decided to write and tell him you hadn’t married Simon, that you’d run away before the wedding and were in hiding.’

  ‘You didn’t think to consult me?’ Hélène suggested coldly.

  ‘No, not then. At least, we did think of it but decided against it until we knew more.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I did write and it was in answer to that letter that we received one the other day. It was sent to Pierre at Belair.’

  ‘What did it say?’ Hélène’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  ‘He said he was on his way, and to make sure we kept you safely hidden until he got here. Well, he’s here now, in Paris. I saw him today. He came to the market to find me… and he wants to see you.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to see him.’

  ‘He’s given me something for you,’ Annette said.

  ‘I don’t want it, whatever it is,’ asserted Hélène.

  In answer, Annette took the parcel from her bag and put it down on the table between them. Hélène didn’t pick it up, simply looked at it.

  ‘What is it? Does he think he can buy me with presents? Take it back to him, wherever he is, and tell him it’s all too late. I’m not going to marry Simon Barnier, I’m not going to marry anyone and I don’t want to see him. I’ve forgotten him now and there’s no point in opening old wounds and so you can tell him.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Annette, getting up from her chair. ‘I’ve brought home some chicken legs. I thought I’d fry them for supper. Have we still got onions and garlic?’

  Faced with this sudden change of subject, Hélène said, ‘Onions? I don’t know.’

  ‘Have you finished your sewing?’ asked Annette. ‘If so, I’ll drop it off at the workshop tomorrow on my way to the market.’

  Later, when they had eaten their evening meal, taken in almost complete silence, Annette said, ‘I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day, and Benny wants me all day tomorrow.’

  Left alone in the living room, Hélène looked at the brown paper parcel that still lay on the small table by the window. Whatever he had sent her, she didn’t want it. But it was there, almost like a magnet, drawing her towards it, and she turned her chair away so that she could no longer see it. She pulled the curtains across the window, shutting out the night, and below in the street someone turned away, as certain as he could be that no one from that apartment was going to go out again that night.

  In the apartment Hélène turned down the lamp and went into her bedroom, the one that had belonged to Fleur, Madame Sauze’s sister. Madame Sauze. Madame Sauze had seen Simon Barnier yesterday and been seen by him. What was he doing in Paris? Had he simply come up on business or was he really still looking for her? As she got undressed and climbed into bed, she shuddered at the thought of his touch on her face. She was about to blow out the candle when she changed her mind and went back into the living room. The shadows jumped about the flickering candle as she crept over to the table in the window, picked up the brown paper parcel… and carried it back to bed.

  When Annette got up in the morning she noticed that the parcel had disappeared and made no comment. When she left for the market she took with her the blouses complete with their attached collars and cuffs and said she would bring more home that evening.

  Once she was alone in the apartment, Hélène retrieved the bundle of letters from under her bed and laid them out on the table. She had read through them last night, squinting at the handwriting by the light of her candle. Now she wanted to study them in closer detail. To the pile she added the ones she had brought with her from Belair. As she read the earliest ones, she found herself listening to Rupert’s voice, once again bringing tears to her eyes. She had long ago promised herself she would cry no more tears for him, no more tears for any man, but despite this, she found them slipping down her cheeks. If she closed her eyes she could see his beloved face, and immediately she snapped them open again. Whatever had happened about the letters, he had allowed himself to be persuaded t
o marry someone else when he was already promised to her.

  ‘You allowed yourself to be persuaded, too,’ a little voice inside her whispered.

  ‘But only when I knew he was already married,’ she answered aloud.

  She read all the letters through again, including the ones sent by Pierre and Annette. She had been angry that they had taken it upon themselves to tell Rupert her heart was breaking. It left her no pride, and it was pride had carried her through the dark days that followed the news of Rupert’s desertion.

  She thought of Rupert, coming at once to Paris when he heard she was not married. He had spoken to Annette in the marketplace yesterday, given her the letters. Perhaps he would come to the market again today to find out what she had said. Well, she had told Annette to send him away.

  She picked up the letters one by one and folded them back into their envelopes. It was too late. Whatever reason there had been, all the misery and misunderstandings, it was too late.

  And with that thought in mind she put on her hat and coat and left the apartment. It was too late, she kept telling herself as she walked to the market, but perhaps she could see him, just one more time. See him without him seeing her. When she reached the market square she moved from stall to stall, keeping watch on the poulterer’s stand, seeing Annette serving customers, and then suddenly, there he was. Her Rupert. Not her Rupert. Just Rupert. He walked casually to where Annette was selling eggs to a large woman with a basket, waiting for her to be free. Benny was there too, and when he saw Rupert, he nodded to Annette and the two of them drifted away from the stall. Staying well back, Hélène watched them enter the café. It took all her determination not to follow them inside. Annette would be giving him her message now and then it would all be over. Rupert would go back home to England, he’d settle down at Pilgrim’s Oak, probably after some time he would remarry and start a family and she would never see him again. She would be able to push him into the recesses of her mind, as she had already begun to do.