The French Wife

by Diney Costeloe

  I shall sleep on it, he thought, and make my decision in the morning.

  Rupert, once assured that he had no tail, made his way quickly to the British Embassy in the Rue du Faubourg St Honoré, where he gave his name and asked if he might speak with David Bertram. He was shown into a small reception room, where David appeared five minutes later.

  ‘Rupert,’ he said as they shook hands. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ Rupert said with a smile. ‘I’m sorry to come and beard you in your lair, David, but I’ve got a problem and I thought you might be able to help me sort it out.’

  David looked doubtful but said, ‘Well, I will if I can, old friend, but if it’s embassy business I haven’t much clout here. I’m very much an underling. What’s the problem?’

  ‘Well, it’s all a bit complicated,’ Rupert began, and as briefly as he could he explained the situation. ‘She is afraid if she goes back to her family now, she will be forced into marriage against her will, with this man Simon Barnier.’

  ‘I see; a bad business.’ David Bertram took out his pocket watch and, glancing at it, continued, ‘Look, old chap, I was about to go home. Why don’t you come with me and we can discuss all this over dinner? Christine would be delighted to see you and maybe she can think of something to help you.’

  Rupert readily agreed. He felt he hadn’t made everything as clear as he had wished and perhaps Christine, as a woman, might bring a different perspective to the various problems that needed to be solved.

  In this he was not disappointed. Christine listened attentively to his story of their earlier engagement and everything that had happened since Justin’s death last year, asking nothing until he fell silent.

  ‘And does she want to renew her engagement to you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Rupert. ‘She does. I just need somewhere safe for her to stay while I arrange for us to be married.’

  ‘She can’t stay at the embassy, if that’s what you’re after,’ said David firmly. ‘She’s a foreign national.’

  ‘I understand that,’ Rupert said, ‘but what I wanted to discover was whether it’s possible for us to be married in the embassy. Under British law. I assume that we’d be on British soil there.’

  ‘Indeed you would,’ agreed David. ‘Well,’ he went on thoughtfully, ‘I suppose it might be possible to bring in an English priest to marry you there. It’s not something that would happen very often, but in special circumstances it might be arranged. You’d need a special licence, of course, but you could apply to the ambassador’s office for that. But you’d have to find her somewhere else to stay until it can all be arranged.’

  ‘I thought of her staying at one of the large hotels. She will have her maid with her, so it would be quite proper, but she would be easier to find. I’m afraid if he found her Barnier might well put pressure on her to return to him.’

  ‘If that’s the case,’ Christine Bertram said, ‘you’re welcome to bring her here, Sir Rupert. It is clear to me that you have to be married before she goes home to her family. She must return as a respectable married woman. That way her reputation will be safe and there could be no question of coercion into marriage with this Monsieur Barnier.’

  ‘It will have to be declared that there is no legal impediment to the marriage,’ pointed out David thoughtfully.

  ‘Just bring her here,’ his wife said. ‘We’ll look after her. She will live with us until one way or the other you can be married, at the embassy or at the local Mairie.’

  ‘What about her parents?’ asked David. ‘

  ‘They gave me their consent some months ago,’ replied Rupert.

  ‘Hmm,’ David grunted. ‘I wonder if that still stands!’

  ‘Well, I imagine that they will be only too pleased that she is legally married when she reappears,’ Christine Bertram said, ‘so that it scotches any scandal, and in the way of these things, the matter of her disappearance will soon be overtaken by some other excitement.’

  ‘When we get back to England it will never be known,’ stated Rupert. ‘I shall simply be bringing home the bride I married while I was in France.’

  They discussed what they were going to do, and when their plans were made, Rupert thanked them for their hospitality and offers of help and returned to his hotel.

  There was nothing more he could do until tomorrow, but at least they now had a plan, and if it worked, he and Hélène finally had a future.

  Chapter 51

  Rupert had an early breakfast and then walked to the market, where he found Annette.

  ‘Is Jeannot still with Hélène?’ he asked.

  ‘He said he’d wait till you came for her,’ Annette replied.

  ‘I’m going there now,’ Rupert told her. ‘And you must come with me. We have to maintain the proprieties.’

  That made Annette laugh. ‘Isn’t it a bit late for that?’

  ‘No, it’s most important. I’ve arranged for her to stay with a friend of mine and his wife, and when we get to their home, Hélène must be seen to be accompanied by her maid. And it isn’t as if you haven’t been living with her in the apartment, is it?’

  ‘Have you told Jeannot what you’ve got planned?’ asked Annette.

  ‘I outlined it to him yesterday, but gave no details. I didn’t know then if my idea would work. Now I’ve got everything arranged, we need to put it into action as soon as we can. We need to get you both to a safe and respectable place while I make arrangements for our wedding.’

  ‘Hélène told me you were going to be married,’ Annette said. ‘I hope you mean it this time.’

  ‘I meant it last time,’ Rupert said ruefully.

  ‘But you got talked out of it.’

  ‘Annette, you know what happened and you know the trouble it’s caused, but now I’m going to put it right.’ He took her by the shoulders, turning her to look at him. ‘You did everything I asked you to before I left. I’m incredibly grateful to both you and Pierre. If you hadn’t helped her, she’d be married to that monster now. I’m for ever in your debt, and I shall see that you lose nothing for doing what you did.

  ‘Now I’m asking you to do this one more thing, to stay with Hélène until we can be married and return to Belair as husband and wife.’

  Annette looked up at him scornfully. ‘And where else would I be?’ she demanded, and turning away, she marched ahead of him as they returned towards Batignolles.

  When they reached the apartment they found Hélène waiting with Jeannot.

  ‘All set?’ asked Jeannot.

  ‘Yes, Hélène and Annette are going to stay in the home of some friends of mine, Monsieur and Madame Bertram. They will stay there until we can be married. I’m hoping that will be in a few days’ time, at the British Embassy. Madame Bertram will act as chaperone, and Annette will be with her so that all possible proprieties can be maintained.’ He turned back to Jeannot. ‘Did you find a fiacre?’

  ‘Yeah, a mate of mine, Joubert, drives one. He’ll be here in a while. Very convenient memory he’s got. Once he drops you off, he won’t have any recollection of where he picked you up or where he’s been.’

  ‘Are you coming with us, Jeannot?’ Hélène asked.

  ‘Nope!’ replied Jeannot. ‘You got someone else to look after you now, ain’t you? Three’s a crowd.’

  ‘But I’ll see you again, won’t I?’

  ‘Never know your luck,’ grinned Jeannot. ‘When you’re back in the Avenue Ste Anne. I look in on Pierre from time to time.’ He added, ‘That’s if he’s allowed callers at the door once he’s married?’ And he gave her a broad wink as he saw Annette’s cheeks flush pink.

  Ignoring this interchange, Rupert was watching from the window for the arrival of Joubert in his fiacre. As he stared along the street he suddenly saw a movement in the mouth of an alley a little further along. A young man he’d seen in the Hotel Montreux stable yard, a young man with a halo of red hair. Redhead! No doubt about it. Rupert drew back from the w
indow and murmured to Jeannot, ‘Come and have a look.’

  Jeannot peered down into the street.

  ‘There, in that alleyway, there’s… somebody. I think he was at the Montreux the other day. A bloke with red hair.’

  ‘I see him,’ said Jeannot, ‘and I know him, too. Caught him following Hélène when she was fool enough to try an’ go visiting her ma. Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. Look, here comes Joubert. Once you’re downstairs, quick as you like into the cab. If Redhead makes any trouble he’ll wish he hadn’t.’

  ‘Come on,’ Rupert said to the two girls as he picked up the two valises. ‘Straight out and into the cab. I’m right behind you.’

  ‘I told him to drive on soon as you’re all inside,’ Jeannot told Rupert. ‘Once you’re out of sight you can tell him where you want to go.’

  ‘What do I pay him?’ asked Rupert.

  ‘Nuthink!’ answered Jeannot. ‘He owes me!’

  ‘So do I, now,’ said Rupert.

  ‘’S’all right.’ Jeannot grinned. ‘I’ll remember.’

  *

  André had known he was in trouble when he woke up that morning with a raging thirst and a sledgehammer pounding his brain. When he opened his eyes, he found himself naked in his own bed, but with little recollection of how he had come to be there. He’d had a drink in a bar, he remembered that, and there’d been a girl. He’d bought her a drink too, but as they passed the evening together, working their way through his wages, things became rather hazy. He was alone now, but he was pretty sure the girl had come back to his room with him. He hauled himself out of bed and crossed to the jug of water standing on the table, and took a long swallow. His head continued to pound, and he sat back down on the bed. His clothes were in a heap on the floor and as he dragged on his trousers, he put his hand into his pocket, feeling for the last of his cash, and found it empty.

  Shit! he thought. The bitch has cleaned me out!

  As he struggled with his shirt, he heard the church clock at the end of the street strike nine and his heart sank. He should have been back outside the Montreux hours ago, watching for the Englishman to go out again. He’d have missed him by now for sure. Not daring to return to Monsieur Barnier and admit that he’d overslept and awoken with a hangover, he drank another long draught of water. With his money gone, he’d have to go back to the street in Batignolles. He could always tell Barnier that he’d followed the Englishman there again this morning and hope he was believed.

  André had hurried as fast as his hangover would let him and had only just arrived and taken his position in the alley when a fiacre turned the corner into the lane. He wondered what a four-wheeled cab was doing in such a shabby little street, and then to his surprise it pulled up outside the butcher’s shop, blocking his line of sight to the apartment house door. He scurried out from his hiding place in time to catch sight of two people already settling into the cab before the blinds were drawn and they were hidden from view. They were followed by a man with a valise in each hand, getting in and slamming the door behind him. At once the driver whipped up the horse and the cab moved away, causing André to jump back into the alley. At first the street was so narrow that the fiacre made slow progress and André, setting off after it, managed to keep up, but as it reached a junction, the road widened and the cab picked up speed, leaving him choking in the cloud of dust it left behind. He stood gasping as he watched it round a corner and disappear, with no idea of where it was going, or indeed who was in it. What was he going to tell Barnier? It wasn’t his fault that they’d driven away in a fiacre. He had tried to follow, but it was, of course, impossible on foot. Still, he was pretty sure that the man he’d seen climb in was the Englishman he’d been following much of yesterday; but who were the other two? He wasn’t even certain that they were women. Was one of them the girl Monsieur Barnier was looking for? If so, she was gone.

  He turned back the way he had come, considering what to do next. Should he continue to keep watch on the apartment, just in case there was something further to see, or should he go straight back to Barnier and tell him what he’d seen? He needed something to report or there’d be no more cash.

  He was just deciding to go to the Pension Marguerite when a figure emerged from the alley and André suddenly found himself being dragged back out of sight, his arm twisted so high up his back that he screeched in pain.

  ‘Shut it!’ said a voice in his left ear. ‘And listen to me. I got a few questions for you. Answer them straight and I’ll let you go. Right?’ There was another sharp jerk on André’s arm and he screamed again. ‘Right?’ repeated the voice.

  ‘Right!’ croaked André. ‘Right!’

  ‘Who’re you working for?’ demanded the voice. ‘Barnier?’

  ‘Barnier!’ agree André.

  ‘And where will I find Monsieur Barnier?’

  ‘Pension Marguerite,’ squeaked André. ‘Rue des Loups.’

  ‘There we go then.’ The pressure went from his arm and he was given a hefty push that sent him staggering into the midden that ran down the middle of the alley. When he’d struggled to his feet, covered in the effluent of the street drain, and looked about him, he was alone. The alley was empty.

  Chapter 52

  Sir Rupert and Lady Chalfont were married a week later in the embassy chapel by the ambassador’s chaplain in the presence of Mr and Mrs David Bertram and Madame Annette Dubois and Mr Peter Parker. The arrangements had been far more straightforward than Rupert had feared. David Bertram had made the necessary enquires and all they were asked for was a declaration that there was no impediment to their marriage. Rupert was declared a widower and Hélène, spinster.

  In the few days Hélène lived with the Bertrams, Christine told her a good deal about the British way of life. She also suggested that Hélène should practise her English. Mademoiselle Corbine had done her best, and Hélène had the basics, but when Christine realised how limited Hélène’s grasp of the language was, she only spoke to her in English from then on. She also took the question of Hélène’s wardrobe in hand and, using her influence with her own dressmaker, managed to ensure that Hélène had a suitable outfit in which to be married and another for travelling. At Hélène’s insistence, Annette was also provided with new clothes. Though bought ready-made, the two dresses and the skirt and bodice were far better than anything Annette had ever owned before.

  After the short ceremony, they left the embassy hand in hand as husband and wife. Christine had insisted on providing a celebratory meal for when they returned to their apartment.

  ‘It’s not going to be much of a wedding day for the poor girl if we don’t celebrate together and have a glass of champagne to toast your happiness.’

  Rupert agreed. How could he not when the Bertrams had been so kind in looking after Hélène?

  As the evening began to draw in, Rupert took his bride to his suite in the Hotel Montreux. He had ordered Jacques Rocher to fill it with flowers and to serve a quiet supper for the two of them. A fire had been lit against a chill in the air and they sat together in front of its warmth as the darkness deepened outside.

  ‘Happy?’ asked Rupert as Hélène nestled against him.

  ‘Mmm,’ she sighed. ‘Very.’

  That night they slept in each other’s arms. Rupert made no effort to consummate the marriage, simply held Hélène close until, unafraid, she drifted off into sleep.

  The following morning, when they had been served breakfast in their suite, they prepared to travel to St Etienne. Rupert had hired a carriage and a coachman to drive them, so that when they arrived at Belair it would be in some style. The journey by road would take two days and they would have to pass a night at an inn on the way, but to Rupert’s mind that was no bad thing, enabling Hélène to become less afraid of the marriage bed before arriving at Belair. Annette was travelling with them, happy enough to return to her place as Hélène’s maid, and longing to be back with Pierre.

  Rupert and Hélène’s second night together,
though in a rather lumpy bed at the inn, passed as peacefully as the first, with Rupert making no physical demands on her and Hélène comfortably asleep in his arms. Annette, in a small side room, lay wondering what sort of reception she was going to get when she arrived at Belair. She was sure that even if they welcomed Hélène back with open arms, they would blame her for going with her. Well, she decided, she didn’t care; Pierre would be there waiting for her. Would he really marry her and would everything be different with him, as she’d told Hélène?

  They arrived in St Etienne early the next afternoon. Rupert stopped the coach at Le Coq d’Argent and bespoke a suite for them for that night. He was aware that their arrival at Belair might not be as welcome as it might once have been. He had noticed Hélène growing increasingly tense the nearer they got to the village and he wanted to be able to remove her from any unpleasantness if necessary.

  It was Louise who saw the carriage first. She stared wide-eyed as she realised who was in it.

  ‘Maman,’ she shrieked, bursting into her mother’s parlour. ‘Maman, Hélène’s come home. She’s in a coach and she’s with Rupert!’

  Rosalie stared at her in dismay. With Rupert? Surely the silly girl hadn’t run all the way to England to find him, a married man who’d deserted her?

  ‘Calm down,’ she instructed her daughter. ‘Stop shouting while I go and find your father.’ She hurried down the stairs and found Emile in his study.

  ‘Hélène’s come home,’ she told him. ‘Rupert Chalfont has brought her home.’

  ‘She shall not enter this house,’ Emile stated. ‘She has disgraced us all and is no longer a daughter of mine.’