Chateau Despair

by Red Rose Publishig

  Closing the door, she leaned against it for some minutes, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She was feeling sick and she knew – she knew that what had taken place that night was not as it should have been.

  Helene’s escape might almost have been planned by the Germans

  themselves…

  Chapter Nineteen

  Penhallows

  Christine was pleased to discover another egg beneath the gooseberry bushes in the kitchen garden. She was getting rather good at discovering them; she had a dozen in her basket now and since it was just beginning to spot with rain, she decided that would be enough for the time being.”

  “Morning, Miss Christine. Looks like we might be in for a bit of a downpour later.”

  “Yes, it does look a bit dark, doesn’t it?”

  Christine deposited her basket of eggs on the kitchen table and escaped before Cook could press a slice of her cake on her, making her way through to the main hall. She was just on her way upstairs when she heard Helene’s voice and turned to look at her.

  “I was looking for you.”

  “I’ve been collecting the eggs. The hens lay them in some very strange places, but I managed to find several.”

  “That is good.” Helene nodded her understanding, her eyes going over Christine thoughtfully. “You have lost so much weight that your clothes do not fit you well. I was thinking that I might make something for you, Christine – something more exciting than you can buy in your English shops. We could use some of your old dresses, and create new garments. It will be fun planning it together, no?”

  “Yes, it would,” Christine agreed. “Would you really do that for me, Helene? I thought you did wonders with those old dresses of mine that Mummy gave you.”

  “Have you forgiven me for that?”

  “Yes, of course.” Christine gave her a rueful smile. “In fact I have a lot more things that we could alter either for you or for me.”

  “Merci!” Helene sparkled with mischief. “That is good I think. Now we can really become friends – yes?”

  “Yes, of course. I really am pleased that you’re going to marry Jack.” Christine looked at her thoughtfully. Helene seemed to be becoming more French somehow. “Jack told us that you were forced to flee France in 1943, but that you had been working with a group of Resistance fighters for almost three years before that. I don’t know much else about you, Helene. I don’t want to pry, but I should like to try and understand.”

  “Yes.” Helene looked at her thoughtfully. “There is much I should tell you, Christine. Will you be patient for a few days more? I do want to tell you, to tell all of you – but I must wait until Jack is here with us.”

  “You mustn’t feel obliged to tell us anything if it upsets you,” Christine said. “It’s just that – well, I thought it might be better if we all understood each other a little better.”

  “Yes, I think it is right that you should know. When Jack comes I shall tell you.” She laughed huskily. “And now perhaps we can look at your clothes and see what can be done to improve them.”

  “Oh yes, I should like that. You have such good taste, Helene.”

  Christine had enjoyed her time with Helene, giving her an armful of old dresses that were apparently going to turn into miracles of creation once she had taken a pair of scissors to them.

  It was rather nice having Helene as a friend, Christine had discovered, and she had begun to like her more than she would ever have thought possible a few weeks earlier. In fact she was feeling much better, both in herself and about herself. The only problem was, what she was going to do about Freddie?

  Christine was thoughtful as she set out for a long walk with the dogs. She was beginning to think that it would be unfair to marry him if she couldn’t love him, and a few days reflection had taught her that it was unlikely she would ever feel more than affection for Freddie. It would hurt him terribly if she told him she had changed her mind, and yet might it not hurt him even more if she married him and then found herself unable to return his feelings?

  It was a very unpleasant situation and she wished that she could go back and wipe out the past few days, but that was impossible. She was going to feel awful if she jilted Freddie, but perhaps it was better to face up to things now.

  She saw that Jack’s car was parked outside the house when she returned from walking the dogs that afternoon, but there was no sign of Freddie’s Bentley. Christine checked her watch. It was past three. She had expected Freddie to be here by now.

  “Oh, there you are, Christine darling.” Beth greeted her as she walked into the drawing room. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid Freddie can’t get down until tomorrow – an unexpected meeting.”

  Christine felt a flood of relief, then realized that she was merely putting off the evil day. The sooner she told Freddie, the better.

  “Did he phone while I was out? That’s a nuisance. I wanted to talk to him about something.”

  “You’ve still got me,” Jack grinned at her. His former good nature seemed to have been restored since Helene had agreed to marry him. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

  “Yes, of course I am. I hope you will be very happy.” She kissed his cheek and got a hug as a return. “Where is Helene? Does she know you are here?”

  “She went upstairs to fetch something,” Jack said. “Apparently, she has an announcement of some kind to make. She wants all of us to hear it. I have no idea what it might be – but it seems quite important to her.”

  “Perhaps it has something to do with the war being over,” Beth looked thoughtful. “She may want to go back to France to see how things stand at the chateau. Have you thought what you will do if Helene wants to live in France, Jack?”

  “I asked her and she said she didn’t want to go back there – too many bad memories I think.”

  “Ah, here she is.” Beth turned as Helene entered the room. “You have intrigued us, my dear. Is Jack right – do you want all of us to be here?”

  “Yes please. I am going to tell you my story.” She looked at Jack, and Christine sensed that she was nervous, her hands fluttering slightly as she clutched the parcel she was carrying. It was made up of brown paper tied with string and looked much creased, as if it were old. “I wanted to be honest with you when I rang the other evening, Jack. You said there was nothing you needed to know about my life, but there are things that I need to tell all of you.” She looked at Beth and Christine. “If I married Jack without revealing the truth our lives would be a lie.”

  Jack frowned. “Perhaps you should have told me the other evening despite what I said. Are you sure you want to tell everyone?”

  “What I have to say isn’t that terrible.” Helene seemed hesitant, uncertain. “I haven’t been honest with you, but I hope that by the time I have told you everything you will be able to understand and forgive me for having deceived you.”

  “I think you should sit down, my dear,” Beth advised. “In fact we all should. Somehow I don’t think this story is going to be a short one.”

  “I would rather stand for the moment, but I should like you to sit.” Helene laid her parcel down on an occasional table. “I want to tell you about a girl called Clothilde Sanclere…”

  Christine’s attention was drawn to the door, which had just opened. Henry entered, standing just inside the door to look at them.

  “Excuse me for interrupting,” he said. “May I join you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Beth replied, and then glanced at Helene. “That is if you don’t mind, my dear?” She went over to her father and took his arm, leading him to his favourite chair by the fireplace. “Helene has something to tell us.”

  “I should like to hear it,” Henry said. “If that is agreeable to you, mademoiselle?”

  “Yes. It is right that you should know… that you should all know the truth.” Helene moistened her lips, waiting until he was settled comfortably. Christine knew she was very nervous, and wondered what was making
her look like that. “Clothilde Sanclere…was born in a woodcutter’s hut in the woods near the chateau. The woods were named Sanclere as is the village nearby, and belonged the family who had lived there for centuries. The chateau itself bore the family name, but the villagers spoke of it by another. They called it Chateau Despair and most of them would not go near it...”

  “I met someone by the name of Sanclere once,” Henry said from his chair by the fireplace. “She was a Comtesse I believe.”

  “Grandmere,” Helene said with a nod of confirmation. “Clothilde called her Grandmere, but in fact she was no relation. Clothilde’s mother died when she was born and the woman who had tended her took the child and left it in the church. Comtesse Sanclere found the baby and took her home, bringing her up to believe she was her grandchild by a bastard daughter.”

  “That was a kind act…” Beth stopped as she saw Helene’s expression. “Or perhaps not. Please go on, my dear.”

  “Clothilde’s childhood is not important. She lived a strange life, for the chateau was gradually crumbling into decay and Grandmere was perhaps a little mad. A few years previously there had been three violent deaths at the house. Madame Sanclere’s legitimate daughter and her lover were murdered by the daughter’s husband – who then killed himself. Some people thought the comtesse killed him in revenge, but that was never said openly for it could not be proved.”

  “My God!” Beth stared at her. “That is shocking – no child should be taken to a house like that.”

  Christine was remembering little things Helene had said to her when she first arrived and afterwards, and thought she was beginning to understand. Suddenly so much that had puzzled her about Helene’s manner and behaviour was becoming clear.

  “The local priest agreed with you, Beth, but he could do little – except teach Clothilde her lessons. There were many books at the chateau and she read all she could – though some were not suitable for a child. She read them anyway, because she was thirsty for knowledge of life outside the chateau. She seldom went anywhere other than the woods, and occasionally to the priest’s house or to church. She met other children, mingled with the villagers on occasion, but she had no real friends – except perhaps one. A boy called Andre, who later became a priest.”

  “What happened?”

  Jack was frowning, clearly disturbed by Helene’s story.

  “Let her tell it her own way,” Beth warned with a frown and he subsided.

  “When Grandmere died, Clothilde went to Paris. She was happy there before the war. She had friends…”

  “How did you meet her?”

  “Jack! Give Helene a chance.”

  Beth looked at him disapprovingly, but Christine could see that he was wound up tight, on the verge of exploding.

  “Sorry…”

  He had been standing by the window, but now he threw himself down into the nearest armchair, scowling at everyone.

  “Auguste Picard took his daughter to buy clothes from Madame Robards’ showrooms where Clothilde worked.” Helene faltered, her gaze seeking out Jack and then falling away. Christine thought she looked very nervous. “He fell in love with her almost at once. His wife had been dead for some years and he was lonely. They became friends. Auguste wanted to marry her, but Clothilde would not agree. Later…she regretted it but by then he was dead, killed by the Germans.”

  Jack’s expression was growing darker by the minute, but he did not interrupt her. Helene took a deep breath and continued, her hands fluttering at her sides as if she found the telling of this story difficult.

  “Madame Robards wanted to keep the showroom open, and Clothilde wanted to stay in Paris. They knew they would have to serve German officers once the invasion came.”

  “I believe others did the same,” Beth remarked. “It must have taken courage.”

  “Some people thought they were collaborators. Especially Clothilde, because she went to parties given by a German officer called Major Von Sturmbakker.”

  “Was he her lover?” Jack’s voice cut across hers sharply. Christine looked at him, witnessing his pain. Had he guessed where Helene’s story was leading? Surely he must have?

  “No. Von Sturmbakker was never her lover – but there was a German officer. He protected Clothilde and…” Helene hesitated as Jack stood up and went over to the sideboard to pour himself a drink. The glasses rattled on the silver tray as he slammed down a cut-glass decanter. “Clothilde went to the parties because she had no choice – and she listened to what she heard there…”

  “You mean she was working for the Resistance?” Christine asked, already knowing she was right. “She must have been very brave. She would have been shot if they had caught her…perhaps tortured.”

  “She was suspected,” Helene said. “But Von Sturmbakker had something else in mind for her. She was nothing to him, but there was someone else who meant much more. He was an evil man…”

  “For God’s sake get on with it!” Jack muttered. “You might as well drop the pretence. You’ve obviously been lying to us all this time. You are Clothilde Sanclere.” He looked at her angrily. “Did you imagine we were all fools?”

  “No. I lied at the start because I was curious about your family and because of the connection to Helene – and before that because I was afraid for my life.”

  “You are Clothilde?” Beth asked, staring at the girl she had known as Helene Picard in astonishment. “You have been telling us your story? But it is the story of a brave woman, my dear. I see no reason why you should feel shame.”

  “Don’t you?” Jack growled, and Christine watched as his hands curled at his side. He was clearly close to boiling point.

  “Jack! Please be quiet and allow Clothilde to continue.”

  “Thank you, Beth.” Clothilde’s face was very pale. “I know you are angry, Jack. I wanted to tell you before this…”

  “I’ll just bet you did!”

  “I am sorry if this makes you hate me. I do love you in my way, Jack. I know I have behaved badly, but I hoped you might understand when you heard everything.”

  “I doubt you know the meaning of the word love!” he flung at her bitterly.

  “Be quiet, Jack.” Henry’s voice carried the ring of authority. “I want to hear what Clothilde has to say if you don’t. If you are going to stay here sit down and listen – or go and sulk alone if you can’t behave.”

  Jack looked furious but went over to the window, choosing a chair as far away from everyone else as possible, his attitude one of brooding despair.

  Christine watched, feeling sympathy for him. Clothilde’s story must be more painful for him than anyone else. Her heart went out to him, but she too was anxious to hear the rest of the story.

  “Please tell us everything,” she invited. “It’s very important to you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” She shot a grateful smile at Christine. “I wanted you to understand why I lied – and why I behaved so badly. It was wrong of me but I was angry.”

  “Angry?” Beth frowned. It was an odd choice of word. She would have expected hurt or fear, but anger implied something more. “What did this Major Von Sturmbakker do to you, Clothilde?”

  “If she is Clothilde Sanclere – where is Helene Picard?” Jack demanded and was frowned at by his father.

  “I must apologise for my son, Clothilde,” Henry said. “He appears to have lost his manners. However, I must admit to a certain curiosity. Would you mind telling us what happened to Helene?”

  Clothilde clenched her hands at her sides. She looked so tense that Christine thought she might faint at any moment.

  “She…she was killed… and in a way it was my fault.”

  “My God!” Jack muttered. “It gets worse.”

  “Would you tell us how it happened?” Henry’s voice was gentle, almost coaxing. “And please sit down, my dear. You look as if you might faint – and we should none of us like to see you hurt yourself.”

  Clothilde gave him an uncertain smile. She had not th
ough Henry approved of her, but he was being understanding and kind. His kindness made her eyes sting with tears she refused to let fall.

  “Thank you. Perhaps I shall.” She sat awkwardly in the wing chair he indicated, clearly uneasy and avoiding Jack’s accusing look. “Helene’s death has haunted me for years, because I feel I should have been able to prevent it.”

  “Take your time, child.”

  “It began when Von Sturmbakker came to order clothes for his fiancée, but nothing happened for months. I suspected that he was plotting something. There was a look in his eyes that chilled me from the beginning, but if I had refused his invitation he would have closed the showrooms – and Madame Robards might have been arrested. Her husband was one quarter Jew. She was very frightened for herself and her son. I did not want to do anything that might endanger them, and I wanted to serve France if I could.”

  “I think we all understand that you did what you had to do,” Beth said. “Those of us in this room who were brave enough might have done the same in your situation.”

  “Thank you…” Clothilde’s face was white with distress, her hands trembling in her lap. “It began when Kurt told me he was leaving Paris for a while and asked me to go with him. I went because I had heard a rumour that a woman member of the Resistance was about to betray her comrades and I was afraid it might be a trap for me.”

  “I think I should have tried to run away then,” Christine gasped. “I wish I was half as brave as you, Clothilde.”

  “You are brave in your own way. I was not brave inside. I was very afraid, but Kurt loved me. He had promised to protect me from Von Sturmbakker and I trusted him. I imagined we would live in a village somewhere and he would visit me when he was off duty, but instead we went to the Chateau Chambray…”

  “Auguste Picard's place!” Henry said and then apologised for interrupting.

  “I had been once before for Auguste’s funeral,” Clothilde said. “Just before we arrived I learned that Madame Picard had been shot for resisting when the Germans commandeered the chateau. Von Sturmbakker told me that Helene was a prisoner, though if she were sensible she would be allowed freedom within certain parts of the house. I, on the other hand, was an honoured guest – although my room was almost next to Helene’s, in the old part of the chateau that was easy to guard. I sensed that I too was a prisoner, though I was allowed to come and go as I pleased at the beginning – that was a part of his plan…”