Darkest Longings

by Susan Lewis

She flinched, but then she looked him straight in the eye. ‘I want our marriage annulled,’ she said.

  ‘Do you now?’ His tone gave her the distinct impression that that was precisely what he had expected her to say. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Claudine, but that isn’t possible.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘To begin with, you need my agreement.’

  ‘And you won’t give it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But why?’ she cried. ‘Why, when this marriage is obviously as repugnant to you as it is to me?’

  ‘We shall both learn to tolerate it,’ he answered.

  She was beginning to panic, and her hands were trembling with the desire to strike his hideous face. ‘You raped me!’ she hissed. ‘Am I supposed to tolerate that?’

  He sighed, as if already bored by their exchange. ‘It is a legal impossibility for a man to rape his wife,’ he said. ‘Now, get into the car.’

  ‘I will not!’ she cried.

  He didn’t move, but a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes and she felt herself beginning to shrink away. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that this is as good a moment as any to remind you that less than twenty-four hours ago you swore before God to love, honour and obey me. I do not expect the first, but I unconditionally insist upon the second and the third. Now, get into the car.’

  ‘Why?’ she said, casting wildly about in her mind for words she could hit back at him with.

  ‘Because we are going to Biarritz to continue our honeymoon,’ he answered.

  She froze, and her eyes rounded in horror. ‘You’re insane,’ she breathed. ‘You can’t seriously believe that I’ll continue this farce of a marriage as if nothing had happened?’

  ‘I do. And you will.’

  ‘But people have seen me, they know …’

  ‘They know,’ he interrupted, ‘that we have returned to Lorvoire for Magaly, who incidentally is already packing. Perhaps you would like to thank me for seeing to it that you have company during the long, lonely days beside the sea?’

  Her head was beginning to spin. ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered.

  ‘Only that I shall be unable to spend all my time with you. Of course, I shall return to the hotel each night, when I expect you to perform your wifely duty.’

  ‘I don’t believe this is happening,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘And I don’t understand why you want to stay married when you hate the situation as much as I do.’

  ‘You should have thought about what our marriage would be like before you walked down the aisle, Claudine. I gave you no reason to believe that my feelings towards you would change once we were married. If you imagined they would, then I’m sure you know by now that you were deceiving yourself. Now, I won’t ask again, so get into the car.’

  ‘Why do you hate me, François?’ she said. ‘What have I done to make you treat me like this?’

  ‘I don’t hate you, Claudine,’ he said, opening the car door.

  ‘What about my car?’ she asked, so bemused she hardly knew what she was saying.

  ‘Someone will come to fetch it.’

  She looked at him, then not knowing what else to do, she got into the car.

  ‘I hate you,’ she said quietly as they started back down the hill. ‘I despise you. How can you possibly want to make love to someone who feels about you the way I do?’

  ‘But we won’t be making love, Claudine. We will merely be performing an act in order to conceive children.’ His lip curled in a smile. ‘And try to remember, while you’re reciting the Marseillaise, or whatever it is you women do when you’re lying on your backs, that you are not the only one performing a duty.’

  Too appalled to speak, she turned to stare out of the window. In the space of a few hours her life had somehow turned into a nightmare from which, it seemed, there was no chance of waking.

  – 8 –

  THE HONOURABLE FREDERICK Benjamin Prendergast was ambling back through the gardens of Montvisse from the dovecote when he saw the creamy-white Armstrong Siddeley, driven by Céline’s chauffeur, pass the black de Lorvoire Bentley under the avenue of limes. The Armstrong Siddeley, he knew, was taking Beavis to the station at Chinon; he had said his farewells to Beavis half an hour before. It had been an awkward meeting, like most of their meetings this past week, since Beavis felt obliged to tell Freddy on each occasion that he would consider it a great favour if Freddy would refrain from mentioning, to anyone, Claudine’s impromptu return to the château the morning after her wedding. Freddy repeatedly assured Beavis that he had already forgotten the incident, which brought a grim smile to Beavis’ face: he was relieved it was only Freddy who had been up at that hour of the morning, for it would have been an embarrassment, to say the least, to have to ask the other guests to keep silent – and madness to expect them to do so.

  However, almost everyone who was staying at the Château de Lorvoire – which included Freddy’s sister, Dissy – knew that François and Claudine had made a brief return, and all had found it highly amusing that Claudine was unable to manage for more than a day without her maid. What none of them knew was that she had gone to Montvisse first, and had come in a lorry a good half an hour before François. They did not know, either, that even before François’ arrival, Claudine had already sped off again in the Lagonda.

  Freddy had seen François go after her, and he had also seen the two of them return, but he had no idea what had gone on behind the closed doors of the library and drawing-room after that. All he knew was that François and Claudine had left the château an hour later, and that when he next saw Céline it was apparent she had been crying.

  It wasn’t that Freddy had been deliberately spying on the family’s comings and goings, it was simply that he had woken that morning with the sunrise, to compose a sonnet for Monique, and had gone to sit at the window of his room, which happened to overlook the avenue of limes … And Monique had simply adored the sonnet, he thought cheerfully now watching her alight from the Bentley as it came to a stop in front of the château. And thank heavens she spoke English so well, else his sublime efforts might have been in vain.

  Seeing him come across the gardens, Monique called out to him, and Freddy’s entire body gave a quiver of pure rapture at the way she pronounced his name.

  ‘Monique!’ he cried, and running up to her, he caught her hands, kissed them, then held them to his heart.

  ‘Oh là là,’ she smiled, as she saw the look of adulation in his eyes, and pulling a hand free, she started to tweak at his disorderly thatch of sandy hair. ‘What have you been doing, chéri?’ she said. Then she moved her eyes to his in a way that brought the colour sweeping across his face.

  ‘What do you think?’ he said shyly.

  ‘Not another! Oh, Freddy, what am I to do with you?’

  He longed to tell her that he was hers to do with as she pleased, but he didn’t quite have the courage, so he said, ‘Would you like to read it?’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Here, next to my heart,’ he said, reaching inside his pullover to take the poem from his shirt pocket.

  Monique laughed. ‘Then keep it there. I shall read it later, when we …’

  ‘When we what?’ he prompted.

  Her answering smile was so lingeringly provocative that he found himself leaning towards her.

  ‘Freddy,’ she murmured. ‘You are a naughty boy. I do believe you are thinking to kiss me, right here in front of Montvisse.’

  Mortified, Freddy pulled himself together, all his ardour now glowing in his fresh, youthful cheeks, and laughing, Monique turned to Marcel, who promptly leapt from the car and opened the back door for her to get in. ‘Come along, chéri,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder at Freddy.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Wait and see,’ she answered, taking his hand as he got in beside her.

  ‘But aren’t you going to call on Céline before you leave?’

  ‘Was she expecting me?’
r />   ‘Er, no, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Then there is no reason for me to do so, is there? You may have me all to yourself this afternoon, Freddy. That is what you want, is it not?’

  ‘I’ll say,’ he breathed, and she laughed gaily at his boyish enthusiasm as Marcel turned the car round and started back down the drive.

  ‘I am so pleased you have stayed on at Montvisse,’ she said, when they were heading along the road towards Chinon.

  ‘It was kind of you to ask Céline if one could,’ he responded. ‘She’s an absolutely spiffing woman, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Oh, spiffing,’ she said, making him laugh. She adored him most particularly when he smiled.

  ‘You know,’ she sighed, ‘I had no idea life had become so dreary until you arrived.’

  ‘Oh, but surely life can’t be dreary with Claudine around,’ he protested. ‘Céline tells one she’s been on top form ever since she arrived in France.’

  Monique smiled, almost to herself. ‘Oui, elle a de la presence.’

  Not too sure what that meant, but assuming it was a compliment, Freddy nodded happily.

  ‘She’s made quite a change to our lives at Lorvoire,’ Monique went on. ‘We have all come to love her a great deal, you know. Maman is missing her terribly, especially now all the guests have gone. Still I’m sure she’s having a simply marvellous time in Biarritz.’

  She cast a quick look in Freddy’s direction, but so far, pumping him about the morning Claudine and François had returned to Lorvoire had produced no results – he’d made it clear that he wasn’t prepared to say anything. For her part, she didn’t for one minute believe that nonsense about the maid, but no one else, not even Céline, had confessed to finding the fleeting return unusual, so as yet she had been unable to discover what lay behind it.

  ‘You’re very fond of Claudine, aren’t you, Freddy?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll say,’ he answered. ‘Always have been. Used to hope that one day one might marry her, but of course she’s too old for one. I mean, that is to say, she couldn’t possibly be interested in someone so young,’ he added hastily. ‘Not with so many other chaps vying for her attention. That was before she was married, of course. Sure it’ll be different now. In love and all that, you know.’ It seemed nothing he said was coming out quite right, so he decided to shut up.

  ‘Do you think she is in love with my brother?’ Monique said, gazing nonchalantly out of the window as they crossed the bridge at Chinon.

  ‘Oh, absolutely certain of it. Wouldn’t have married him otherwise. Would she?’

  ‘Wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Grand chap, your brother,’ Freddy said, feeling his colour begin to rise again.

  ‘I think so,’ she smiled. ‘I just hope Claudine does too. And as for François, well, he obviously adores her. I mean, the way he brought her back to Lorvoire the morning after the wedding to collect her maid proves it, doesn’t it? But he’ll quite ruin her if he insists on indulging her every whim.’

  ‘He’s a jolly lucky chap,’ Freddy remarked in a dull voice.

  Monique sighed, and allowed her head to fall against the back of the seat. ‘I do so envy them being so much in love, don’t you, chéri?’

  He took some time to think about that, then with heartfelt solemnity he said, ‘Love can be a very painful experience at times.’

  ‘Oh, but it can!’ she cried in surprise, but instantly warming to the subject.

  He turned to look at her, her lips looked so inviting that he felt his own begin to tremble. For a moment he gazed longingly into her wide amber eyes, but then he turned quickly away, ashamed at the thoughts that were trespassing across his mind. How crude she would think him if she knew the true extent of the passion that beat in his heart, that drummed through his loins and set his blood on fire with ignoble lust. How he longed to hold her, to smother her with kisses and fill her with the rapture she instilled in him! But he had only to look at her to be reminded of what a callow youth he was. A youth whom she had excused the presumption of his adoration, and whose poems she smiled upon in her benevolence.

  Swallowing her impatience, Monique looked out of the window. She didn’t have much longer to wait, she reminded herself, and one didn’t actually expire from a want of kisses, even if just at that moment one felt one might …

  ‘Are we going to the village?’ Freddy asked a few minutes later as they passed the gates of the Château de Lorvoire.

  She nodded. ‘I have a message for Liliane St Jacques from Maman. Then we shall walk together, and you shall read me your poem, oui?’

  ‘Oui,’ he smiled, and his limpid brown eyes misted with adoration.

  They left the car at the edge of the village and tramped over the cobbles, strolling up the steps at the centre of the main street to the old well, where each evening the men heaved up the bucket and splashed themselves with water to rinse away the dust of the fields. Now, in the middle of the afternoon, the village with its grey stone cottages and drab street signs was almost deserted. Monique was a little sorry that there weren’t more people to see her with this tall, handsome youth, with his unruly mop of hair, ruddy cheeks and lean, awkward body.

  Before his arrival at Montvisse it had never occurred to Monique that she might find a man so much younger than herself attractive, much less fall in love with him, but almost from the moment she had laid eyes on Freddy Prendergast she had felt herself coming to life in a way she hadn’t experienced for a long time. She knew, from the poems he wrote her, that he shared her feelings, but she also knew that he was too diffident to presume any further. In a subtle way she had done all she could to encourage him, but so far she had been unable to break through the barrier of his timidity. But she was determined, and after some thought she had decided to bring him to a particular clearing in the forest behind the St Jacques’ house.

  It was known as the waterfall table, a small oval of flat land with a tiny lake at the centre, filled from a waterfall which flowed through the trees and then down behind the village into the Vienne. Clustered around the lake, protecting it from view, were the roots of the huge forest trees which grew up over the hillside. It was a perfect setting for love, and already Monique’s heart was fluttering with the anticipation of what she had resolved to accomplish there.

  A few minutes later they rounded the wall of the chapel and climbed the grassy slope to Liliane’s house. Freddy waited outside, but Monique was gone only a short time, and soon she and Liliane came out together. The old lady, with her toothless smile, waved to him, then called something after Monique as she came over and took his arm.

  ‘What did she say?’ he asked, as they started up through the vineyards towards the forest.

  ‘She was telling me to be sure that Claudine goes to see her the minute she returns.’ Then, after a pause, ‘It was odd, you know, but she said that Armand saw Claudine’s car the morning after the wedding, and that Claudine was driving it. Of course I told her that Armand must have been mistaken, but she absolutely insisted.’

  She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, and saw how troubled he looked. Yes, she was almost sure now that, just as she’d suspected, Claudine had returned to Montvisse the morning after her wedding. And the only conclusion to be drawn from that was that Claudine had run away from François. Which meant, of course, that things were already going badly between them. However, instead of the satisfaction that might have given her a week ago, Monique felt only sadness. Now that she was on the brink of finding love herself, she no longer resented it in others. ‘Come on,’ she said to Freddy. ‘What I want now is to listen to your poem.’ And she ran on up the hill ahead of him.

  Relieved to be let off the hook, as he always had found it hellishly difficult to keep a secret, Freddy started after her, and taking the hand she held out to him, climbed up through the vines with her and into the woods.

  ‘Here,’ he said, stopping her as he stooped to pick a flower.

  She waited as he tucked it in
to her hair, then picking one herself, she put it behind his ear and stood back to admire him. ‘Tu es très beau,’ she murmured as she gazed into his eyes. Then she stood on tip-toe to brush her lips gently over his before taking his hand and running with him through the trees to the clearing. When they reached it, she stopped and looked up into his face, and with a flutter of joy she saw that his reaction was all she had hoped for.

  ‘Sit here,’ she whispered, pulling him down onto the grass beside her. ‘Sit here and listen to the waterfall.’

  He sat, his eyes transfixed by the beauty of the lake; the way the beams of sunlight streamed through the trees in ephemeral lines of silvery mist that exploded in a glittering mass of light as they touched the water. The way the gnarled, leafy branches drooped to their reflections, and the lily pads floated in the current. After a while Monique pulled him back so that he was lying with his head in her lap. He looked up at her, but she ran her fingers over his eyes, closing them. ‘Be still, chéri,’ she murmured.

  They stayed like that for a long time while she stroked his hair, then his face, then his neck. Above them the birds were rustling the trees, while the waterfall trickled and gurgled down through the forest. It was cool, and blissfully calm. In the end Freddy’s eyes fluttered open. Monique was resting against the bole of a tree, and pulling himself up on one elbow so that his face was very close to hers, he murmured, ‘ “Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake: So fold thy self, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me.”’

  ‘Oh, Freddy,’ she whispered. ‘Did you just think of it?’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, but it was written a long time ago by Tennyson.’

  She moved towards him, but as her leg brushed against the treacherous hardness of his body, he turned abruptly away.

  ‘What is it?’ she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning him back.

  As he looked at her, his face was crimson and his eyes flooded with pain. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said, looking down at the ground. ‘Nothing at all.’

  Monique smiled, and understanding only too well what was troubling him, her heart went out to him in such love and pity that it was all she could do to stop herself taking him in her arms. But she knew it would be wrong to touch him at that moment, so lying back in the grass, she allowed several minutes to tick silently by before she said, ‘Have you ever made love to a woman, Freddy?’