Chateau Despair

by Red Rose Publishig

  “Why not? You are my guest, Clothilde. I have no reason to fear you would abuse my trust. We have been friends for too long, have we not?” He was almost purring, reminding her of a large cat with a mouse between his paws, playing with its prey.

  “It is some months now since we met,” Clothilde acknowledged and smiled, deciding to play him at his own game. “Before you came we feared the salon might have to close. I have always wondered what made you choose us?”

  His eyes met hers without a flicker. “Someone must have mentioned your name. I really cannot remember.”

  “It is not important,” Clothilde said with a little shrug. “We were fortunate that you came to us.”

  Von Sturmbakker lifted his glass to her. “The pleasure has been mine, Clothilde. Such beauty as yours is rarely met with…”

  “I hope your fiancée was pleased with the clothes? I do not believe you ever mentioned it…that seems a little strange?”

  Helene made a little choking sound and put down her glass. Von Sturmbakker glanced at her but made no comment. His eyes came back to Clothilde, his gaze narrowed and chilling.

  “Undoubtedly she was pleased. The clothes were beautiful and well made. Such a gift must always be acceptable to any woman.”

  Clothilde smiled, sensing that she had pierced his guard somehow even though he gave no sign. She glanced across the table at Kurt, who was looking puzzled. Clearly he wondered at her challenging the major and was anxious that she should not continue her dangerous game. She sipped her wine, allowing the conversation to lapse until she was addressed by another officer she had previously met at one of Von Sturmbakker’s parties.

  “So, Kurt persuaded you to leave Paris,” he said. “He is a lucky man, Clothilde. I did not think you would desert your beloved Paris for anyone – especially to come here.” He glanced at Sturmbakker, his expression one of distaste. It was fleeting and quickly replaced by a suggestive smile as he looked at her again. “If you tire of Von Secker, I should be delighted to be your escort.”

  “You are most kind, Major Steinberg. But for the moment I am quite happy.”

  He nodded and glanced at Helene thoughtfully. “Do you know Mademoiselle Picard well?”

  “We have met a few times previously – why do you ask?”

  “No particular reason,” he said, but she noticed that he looked at Helene several times during the evening as though he was puzzled about something.

  Clothilde sipped her wine, listening and observing what was going on around her. Helene was clearly terrified. She looked as if she might faint. It was imperative that she be got away from this place as soon as possible. If Sturmbakker decided to question her she would break under the slightest strain.

  “Perhaps the ladies would like to retire?”

  Von Sturmbakker’s voice cut across Clothilde’s thoughts. She rose at once and Helene followed, seeming as if she could not wait to be out of the room. They walked in silence up the main staircase that led to the upper storey of their own part of the chateau, where they might perhaps stand less chance of being overheard. It was the older wing of the house not often used by the family until the Germans took it over.

  “I thought I should faint when you were questioning him at dinner,” Helene said. “He seemed angry. I do not know how you dare stand up to him. I am frightened to speak to him – to any of them.”

  “Some of them are not so bad. Most are simply soldiers doing the job they are commanded to do – but you are wise to be careful of Von Sturmbakker.”

  “Why do you say that – why him in particular?” Helene looked at her inquiringly.

  “He is in command here, that is all. Besides, you said you did not trust him.”

  “I do not trust any of them. I hate all Germans.”

  “Von Sturmbakker is an Austrian, of good family I am told.”

  “I know – but he is also an officer in the German army.”

  “Yes, and dangerous. I think you must leave here as soon as possible. If they are planning to torture you, Helene, it may be soon. I believe Von Sturmbakker knows you are nervous. He is waiting to pounce – as a cat might with a mouse.”

  Helene’s face was deathly pale. “Without help I should be picked up before I could reach the village.”

  “I shall go there tomorrow. Give me a name and tell me where I can contact your friends.”

  Helene gave her a long hard look, then inclined her head. “I am going to trust you because I have no choice. Go to the bar and ask for Jeanne…”

  “A woman?” Clothilde was surprised.

  “She is my contact. She knows how to reach the others.”

  “Good. I shall tell her that you need help urgently. You must be prepared to leave almost at once. I think tomorrow night if it could be arranged.”

  “But how shall I get out of the chateau? There is always a guard at the garden door at the bottom of the stairs from the old wing. That is why I was put here. The only escape route without returning to the main wing the way we came is down the back stairs and through the door at the bottom. That leads straight into the gardens at the rear of the house and gives easy access to the woods – which is why they guard it day and night. The rooms below ours were always used by the servants and are now occupied by soldiers - and it would be impossible for me to climb out of an upper window.”

  Clothilde looked at her consideringly.

  “We are much the same size and we have similar colouring. At night it would be difficult to tell us apart from a distance. I shall tell the guard that I am going for a walk outside, then, while I distract him, you will slip past and I shall follow… once you are safely away.”

  Helene looked disbelieving. “They are not such fools! We must kill him. You talk to him and I will slit his throat from behind.”

  “No! That would merely cause reprisals. They would have patrols looking for you everywhere. Try it my way, Helene. If need be, I shall seduce him. Believe me, he will not be looking for anyone else when I have finished with him. If you slip out quietly they may not notice for hours. It will give you a chance to get away.”

  “But what of you? What about afterwards? You must come with me or they will kill you.”

  “I shall stay here and swear that I know nothing.”

  “You are either brave or foolish. I would rather you came with me.”

  “It is best that I stay. Your friends would find it more difficult to hide both of us, Helene. Captain Von Secker will stand by me. He loves me.”

  “Perhaps he will not be able to protect you.”

  “I am willing to take my chance. Do not argue, Helene. I shall go to the village tomorrow and tell Jeanne that you are in danger…”

  “Will you take me to the village?” Clothilde asked Kurt the next morning. “I need to visit the shop. I must also write to Madame Robards, and I have forgotten to bring something personal with me.”

  “Any letters you send must go through security, and they will be opened and read,” Kurt reminded her. “If you need shopping I can send someone to buy it for you.”

  “It is personal. If you are too busy I can walk.”

  “Tomorrow, Clothilde. Surely it can wait?”

  “Very well.” She pouted at him. “I shall walk.”

  “I’ll detail one of the drivers to take you – though I cannot see what is so important that you must have it today.”

  “That is because you are a man.”

  Kurt laughed. “You always get your own way, don’t you, Clothilde? We can none of us resist you, and that is because we are men. Even Von Sturmbakker claims you are his friend…” His brow furrowed. “What was that about last night? Why did you question him like that…after all this time? He suspected you of having an ulterior motive. You should not push him too far, Clothilde.”

  “I do not know why I asked those questions. It just occurred to me that he had never mentioned his fiancée’s reaction – and surely any woman would have been delighted with such a gift. Most people would have
mentioned that fact. I suppose I wanted to prick at him because he said we had been friends a long time.” She looked at Kurt, her brow arched. “Has he ever shown you a photograph of his fiancée? Does he speak of her at all?”

  “Good grief no!” Kurt exclaimed. “We are not on those terms. I have often wondered if she even exists – and what kind of a woman she must be. There has been no sign of it but I have often wondered if his tastes lie in other directions…”

  Clothilde was puzzled for a moment, then, “You mean he likes men?”

  “Perhaps. There is a whiff of depravity about him occasionally. Most of the time he controls his thoughts and feelings, but I think he might be capable of anything…”

  Her laughter brought a look of indignation to his face. “You do not like him, Kurt. What do you think he is – a molester of children or a voyeur?”

  He smiled reluctantly. “I wish I knew, Clothilde. I would feel much better if I knew what was going on in his mind right now…”

  Clothilde smiled at the young driver as he stopped the car at the side of the road and got out to open the door for her.

  “My instructions are to wait and collect you in an hour, mademoiselle.”

  “Go and have a drink – or visit your girlfriend.”

  He grinned at her, responding eagerly to her warmth out of the loneliness of a young soldier away from home. “There is a girl. She does not trust me because I am German – but sometimes she speaks to me.”

  “Take her some flowers, Hans. Flowers always impress a lady.”

  “I wish she was as friendly as you, fraulein.”

  Clothilde nodded, leaving him to walk across the road to the small shop, which smelled of spices and sausage and seemed to sell almost everything. She made several purchases from the man behind the counter. He glared at her suspiciously, obviously having seen her get out of the German car. However, he took her money, even though he spat on the floor as she left.

  It was clear that he thought of her as a traitor and a collaborator, but she ignored him. In Paris she had met with hostility from certain people, although in the city it was accepted that life had to go on regardless. Until the Germans left most people would keep their heads down and ignore what went on around them; it was a matter of survival.

  Clothilde strolled leisurely along the street. The village was much as the one she had known as a child, the houses built close on the cobbled street, bright flower boxes beneath the small windows. But there was also a square with a memorial to soldiers of the last terrible war, a water trough for horses nearby. Three women stood gossiping in the sunshine, baskets over their arms. An old man was sitting outside his house reading a newspaper, while a dog hunted in the gutter nearby. She went inside the bar. There were three customers, all male, all French. They had been talking and laughing, but when they saw her they finished their drinks and went out.

  She heard one of them mutter, “German whore!” and her cheeks flushed. It was a common insult and she had learned to ignore it.

  “What do you want?”

  Clothilde looked at the woman behind the bar. She was large- boned and ugly, her hands red and rough from work. The hatred in her eyes was so fierce that Clothilde recoiled.

  “A glass of wine perhaps?”

  “We don’t serve German whores.”

  “Then I shall keep my money.” Clothilde almost left in anger, but remembered Helene’s white, scared face. “Are you Jeanne?”

  “What if I were?”

  “I have a message – from Helene Picard. She needs help.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. She stared at Clothilde for a few moments, then went to a curtain at the end of the bar and called for someone named Pierre. A man who was of the same coarse breed and looked as if he might be her brother walked through into the bar. She whispered to him, jerking her head in Clothilde’s direction.

  His gaze was cold and hostile as he stared at her. Something about him at that moment made her think of Betrand – except that this man wasn’t stupid. He was assessing her, seeming almost to strip her bare to her soul.

  “Who are you?”

  “Is that important? I was a friend of Auguste Picard and I want to help his daughter.”

  “What is wrong with her?”

  “She is a prisoner at the chateau. She has been questioned about her friends but she didn’t give anything away – now she fears she may be tortured and then she may break.”

  Jeanne looked at him, a flash of fear in her eyes. “If she gives them my name they will come here. She knows many names.” His eyes glittered as he looked at Clothilde. “You say she is a prisoner?”

  “No – not for the moment. She cannot leave the chateau, but we are going to try and get her past the guard. But it should be soon. Her nerves are shattered. I do not think she can bear much more. If Von Sturmbakker questions her she will tell what she knows.”

  “Tonight,” he muttered. “Tell her it will be tonight…”

  “But where?”

  “She will know – the usual place.”

  Clothilde nodded. He was still wary of her and not prepared to give her any details. Perhaps it was just as well. She could not betray what she did not know.

  “Thank you. I shall give her your message.”

  He nodded, scratched himself beneath the armpit and went back through the curtain. Clothilde turned to leave.

  “Your wine, mademoiselle.”

  She looked back and saw that Jeanne had poured a glass of red wine for her. “Thank you.” She sipped it and then drank it straight down, which earned an approving look from the other woman. “You serve good wine, Jeanne. How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. You risked your life coming here.”

  “Oh no. I am a friend of the Germans. I came only for a glass of wine.” She laid a coin on the bar and then walked out into the sunshine.

  She would spend the next half an hour or so in the church. She needed a little time to think and pray.

  Helene looked at herself in the mirror. Clothilde had brushed her hair into a different style, and, wearing her clothes, they did look very alike.

  “I never realized we were so similar…”

  “Auguste noticed it at once. He told me I looked like a cousin of his – a woman who disappeared some years ago. You looked younger then, but you have lost weight and your face is thinner – it makes us even more alike, at least from a distance.”

  “Are you sure you won’t come with me?”

  “It is much easier my way. I shall distract the guard at the door while you slip outside. Then I shall tell him I am going for a walk. Anyone who sees you will think you are me – and I shall return a little later. If we are lucky no one will suspect you are gone until the morning.”

  Somewhere in the house a clock struck twelve.

  “You must leave now,” Clothilde hesitated, then kissed Helene’s cheek. The younger girl was trembling. “Be careful. I wish you luck and a safe journey.”

  “Thank you…”

  Clothilde opened he door of her room and looked out. The chateau had been quiet for a while now. The only soldiers about would be sleepy ones who had drawn the late duty. She knew that there was one posted at the foot of the stairs leading from this part of the chateau. But once through the door, it was an easy escape into the gardens. Helene knew how to find the woods that lay beyond, and it was there that she would meet her friends.

  Helene was pale and nervous as they left the bedroom and started along the narrow hall. She kept glancing over her shoulder as if she expected to be discovered at any moment. Clothilde was nervous, too, her heart thumping. If someone came she would think of an excuse but she prayed that they would not.

  She had brought some cigarettes with her but no lighter. She had planned how best to distract the guard and thought that she would flirt with him a little and then get him to light cigarettes for them both. It was a shock when she saw that the chair was empty and there was no sign of the guard who usually sa
t there.

  “Wait here a moment,” she whispered, pushing Helene into the shadow of an alcove. “I shall see what has happened to him.”

  She walked to the doorway; the door was slightly opened and she wondered if the guard had gone outside for a breath of air. Glancing into the room to the side of the hall, which in the day was often filled with soldiers either drinking or playing card games, she saw that it was empty.

  This was too easy! Something wasn’t right, she sensed it and it set her nerve ends prickling – but there was no time to waste. The guard might come back at any moment. She beckoned to Helene, hurrying her through the hall and out of the door, shivering as the chill breeze caught her.

  “Are you coming with me after all?”

  “No. I’m just making sure you get safely away to the woods. If anyone sees us, I’ll go up to him – you run for it. If we’re undiscovered I’ll go back as arranged.”

  Helene nodded. Clothilde thought she seemed relieved, although she had tried hard earlier to persuade her to go with her.

  They hurried through the garden. Clothilde was aware of a deep unease at the back of her mind. Why hadn’t the guard been there?

  Helene’s escape was proving too simple. Yet perhaps the gods were with them and she ought not to question their good fortune. Yet her spine prickled and she was tense, waiting for the shout that would denounce them at any moment. Surely they couldn’t be this lucky?

  They had reached the end of the formal gardens. The wood loomed dark and forbidding in front of them. Clothilde stopped, an icy chill trickling down her spine. Helene took a few steps ahead of her, and then looked back.

  “You are sure you won’t come?”

  “Go on! You must not keep them waiting.”

  Helene nodded, then began to run towards the woods.

  Clothilde watched until she was swallowed up by the darkness, then, turning cold, she began to walk back to the chateau. Once again she passed through the doorway without meeting anyone. There was still no sign of the guard who ought to have been on duty.

  Everywhere was unnaturally quiet! Clothilde’s sense of unease was growing as she went up the stairs. She expected to be pounced on at any moment, but she reached her own room without being challenged.