Chateau Despair

by Red Rose Publishig

  “You knew some of it, didn’t you?”

  “Alexander heard a rumour at the time,” Beth confirmed. “He never told me exactly what, but I knew you were unhappy when you came home – and I suspected there might have been a love affair.”

  “It was my fault,” Henry said sighed. “She was much too young, Beth – and so innocent. I fell head over heels for her. I was young again and in love for the first time…” He raised his head to look at her, and his expression was one of remorse mixed with grief. “I can’t lie to you, my dear. You know that I never loved your mother. The marriage was a mistake…”

  “I know you were unhappy – but you were always kind to her. Poor Mother, she wasn’t a particularly loveable woman.”

  “She was frigid. We both knew it almost at once. She ought never to have married. After you and Jack were born she asked me to sleep in my own room and I did. Our marriage was over years before poor Sylvia died.”

  “Why didn’t you divorce her? If you loved Elena?”

  “It was out of the question. My generation didn’t – or very rarely. Besides, Elena was a Catholic. She was a gentle, sweet girl. She told me we must never hurt other people, and when we parted she sent me away with a smile, telling me never to regret what had happened, because she didn’t. I never knew she was carrying my child. If I had…” His face contorted with grief. “It was only later when she left home after a terrible quarrel with her family that I realized what had happened. I tried to find her, Beth. I swear I did try…”

  “I believe you, of course I do. You must have been haunted by the thought that Elena might be suffering…”

  “I was desperate for a while, but then something told me she was dead. I wondered about the child sometimes, but I felt Elena had gone beyond me.” His hand clenched on the arm of his chair. “I should have looked harder! I should have found her, Beth. I should have found Clothilde. What that child has been through because I did not do my duty by her and her mother…” His voice broke on a sob. “I feel so guilty…so ashamed…”

  “I am glad you are ashamed of what you’ve done! Your careless behaviour has ruined enough lives. You made my mother miserable and now you’ve finished any chance of happiness I might have had.”

  Henry’s face went white as he looked at the doorway, the evidence of Jack’s bitterness stamped into his face and his voice. Beth whirled on her brother, temper flaring.

  “I’ve had just about enough of you today, Jack. You behaved disgracefully to Clothilde earlier – and you can just apologise to Father. You aren’t a saint yourself and you’ve no right to criticise just because you’ve been hurt. Henry is suffering enough as it is.”

  “I’m damned if I’ll apologise! If he hadn’t seduced a girl young enough to be his daughter…”

  “Then I must ask you to leave,” Beth said. “This is Henry’s house and my home. If you can’t be decent please go away until you’ve learned how to be civilised again.”

  “You always take his side,” Jack accused, too angry to think what he was saying now. “I saw the way our mother suffered. I’ll swear that French girl wasn’t the only one he…”

  “Please go! You are my brother and you mean a great deal to me, but I don’t want to see you again until you are ready to apologise.”

  Jack stared at her angrily, then turned and went out without another word. He slammed the door behind him.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Beth,” Henry said gently. “He’s right, you know. I have ruined his life. He is in love with her. I believe it is the first time in his life – and now it is impossible for them to marry. That’s what I’ve done to my own son…”

  “How could you know it would happen? Elena’s child could have died with her – or been a boy. Besides, the chances of this happening must have been millions to one. It was just unfortunate.”

  Henry gave her a sad smile. “It was Fate. They say the sins of the father come home to roost, and that couldn’t be truer in this case. I did a great wrong to Elena – and to my wife. If Jack hates me for the rest of my life I shall have to bear that. But there’s no need for you to suffer, Beth. Go after him and make it up. You two have always been such friends. I don’t want this to spoil your lives, too.”

  “Jack knows he’s wrong. He will come to his senses soon enough.” She looked at her father anxiously. “What are we going to do about Clothilde? She is owed so much.”

  “It is just like you to go straight to the point,” Henry said. “But I think we have to see what she wants. A home, money…to be a part of the family. She has a right to demand whatever she wants.”

  “I don’t want anything,” Clothilde said as she and Christine sat together in the summerhouse watching the sunset. The sky was a glorious mix of red, gold and a pale blue that gradually deepened to midnight. It was so peaceful in the gardens that all the horrors Clothilde had been describing seemed a lifetime away, unreal. “I can work and earn what I need – but I would like us to be friends, Christine. I would like to visit sometimes, to think that I had a friend...”

  “Well, of course you can,” Christine frowned. “But why are you talking of visiting? This is your home. You’re not going to leave us, are you? Just because Jack lost his temper…”

  “It isn’t just because of Jack. I am glad I’ve found my family, Christine – but I don’t truly belong here. For visits, yes. I should like that but I cannot live here. It would make it awkward for Jack and there’s the child…”

  “Jack will get over it, he has to, and I don’t see what your daughter has to do with it. If you’re thinking that her father being a German would make us turn against her, you are wrong. We would love to have her here, of course we would.” Christine broke off as she saw Jack striding purposefully towards them. “Oh dear, here comes trouble.”

  Jack stood at the foot of the wooden steps leading to the veranda, on which they were sitting, glaring up at them.

  “I want to speak to you !”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Christine warned. “Jack – go away and calm down. You can’t speak to Clothilde like that.”

  “I intend to go away, but before I do I want a few words with her!” he yelled. “In private…”

  “Her name is Clothilde. And I’m not going to leave you with her in this mood.”

  “Please go,” Clothilde pleaded in a low voice, her face very pale. “I want you to, Christine. Jack has every right to be angry. I am not afraid of him. He won’t hurt me.”

  Christine looked from one to the other, then got up and began to walk back towards the house. The arguing began before she had gone more than a few yards.

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Jack demanded, the tone of his voice telling Christine that he was beside himself with fury. “How do you think I felt hearing all that – with everyone else listening? You made me look a fool!”

  Jack was beside himself with temper. Christine saw his hands clenching at his sides and knew he was close to striking Clothilde.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I wanted to be honest…”

  “You bitch! You don’t know the meaning of the word!”

  Christine glanced back. She saw Clothilde strike Jack across the face and then go running off towards the woods and hesitated as he turned away in another direction. Something was telling her to go after Clothilde – but how could she?

  For a moment longer she wavered, but then she remembered Miss Timpson, and the regret she had felt that she had not followed her when she was distressed. If anything happened to Clothilde she would never forgive herself!

  “Clothilde,” she called. “Wait for me…”

  Clothilde was too far ahead to hear her, of course, but if she ran she might catch up with her.

  Clothilde was thoughtful as she walked, her head bent. She ought to have let Jack come with her, because she knew that she owed him an apology – and he would have apologised to her in time. He was a good man, a decent man and she couldn’t blame him for being angry. She had li
ed to him, deceived him and it had ended in grief for them both.

  She ought to have listened to him but she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Yet they were so painful, so full of her memories.

  Telling her story had made her think of another man. Leon Robards had taken her into his group when she went to him after her flight from Paris. She had been surprised by the change in him, from being a boy he had become very much a man, a brave man she had admired. He had given her his protection, helping her when she gave birth to her child and afterwards they had become lovers…until his death.

  She would never forget the night Leon died. They had gone together to blow up a train transporting German soldiers, and they had been waiting for them. Leon had gone down in a hail of bullets and she had been wounded. She had remembered nothing until she woke in a strange bed to be told that she was the only survivor of the sabotage attack that had failed.

  She had almost died then, of her grief and her wounds, hiding in the cold damp woods until the group that had found her got her out of France because she had become a liability to them. The Germans were hunting for her and she had known too much…

  Clothilde had come to think of Leon as her husband, loving him in a way she had thought she never could, and in the days of delirium when she hovered between life and death she had vowed she would never take another man as her husband.

  But her feelings for Jack were stronger than she had believed. Not wanting to love again, because she knew that to do so only invited grief, she had shamefully used Simon to stop herself loving Jack. She had blamed herself for Simon’s death, even though she knew it was an accident. She had almost decided to go away then, but Jack had been so insistent that they should marry, and she did care for him in her way. Now she had brought him pain too.

  She was a curse on all those she loved, Clothilde thought as she walked, her face stained with the tears she was ashamed to shed. She brushed them aside angrily. She would not feel pity for herself. She had a child to care for and in future she would devote her life to Andrea.

  She would return to France as soon as it could be arranged, and if it were possible she would take Andrea somewhere she would be safe. She did not think it would be safe in France for a woman who was known as a collaborator and a traitor. There were too many stories in the papers of the way such women were treated these days.

  Clothilde realized that she was turning cold. It was becoming darker and the woods seemed lonely. She turned, prepared now to return to the house and face the showdown with Jack before she packed her things. She would leave Penhallows after she had spoken to Henry in the morning.

  The shadows that had hung over her for so many years were receding. At last she knew who she was. She had a family who would help her if need be, but she could stand on her own feet as she always had. She thought of her treasures at the chateau; they would still be there waiting for her to collect them. When she had done everything she needed to she would return to this country and begin her new life…

  Hearing the sound of a twig snapping beneath someone’s foot, she was startled out of her reverie. She turned, glancing back anxiously as she recalled the last time someone had followed her in these woods – and what he had said to her.

  “Who’s there?” she asked. “Is it you, Jack?”

  There was silence for a moment, and then a man stepped forward. A shiver ran down Clothilde’s spine and she was suddenly very afraid.

  “Why are you here?” she asked. “What do you want of me?”

  “You know what I want,” he replied. “I have come for you …it is time that you paid for all those lives you destroyed…”

  “No…” Clothilde cried. “I told you I am not her. That was a lie…”

  She could see that he did not believe her, and her heart caught with fear. Giving a little moan of despair, she turned and began to run through the trees…

  Christine heard the scream and her blood ran cold. That was Clothilde, she was sure it was. Her heart pounding with fear she ran towards the sound, certain now that there was a struggle going on. Was someone attacking her? Was it Jack?

  Suddenly she saw them, the man and the woman struggling. He was trying to strangle Clothilde. Christine didn’t stop to think, she simply ran towards them, jumping on the man’s back, which was turned towards her. Intent on his murderous business, he hadn’t noticed her approach and her sudden attack took him by surprise.

  Her weight pulled him back and as Clothilde staggered and sank to her knees, choking, he whirled about wildly trying to shake Christine from his back, but she had her hands across his face and she instinctively went for his eyes. He swore and stumbled, clutching at his face as she fell to the ground.

  Scrambling up, Christine looked round for a weapon. There was nothing to be seen, so she took off her right shoe, holding it ready to strike him as he looked up at her and she suddenly realized who he was.

  “Captain Saunders…” Christine said, feeling stunned. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  “She betrayed good men and women,” he muttered getting to his feet. One eye was closed and clearly causing him pain, blood trickling down his cheeks where Christine had scratched him. “You don’t know who you are protecting.”

  “Yes, I do. She’s my cousin, Clothilde Sanclere – and she has never betrayed anyone.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about…”

  “I most certainly do,” Christine said. She was still holding her shoe, prepared to strike him. “You are the one who is mistaken, Captain Saunders. I think you should apologise and go away. I’m going to report this to the police when we get home.” She glanced at Clothilde, who had risen to her feet but was still fighting for breath. “Are you all right? I’m sorry I was so long in coming.”

  Clothilde shook her head but could not speak. Christine looked back at the man who had attacked her, feeling frightened. If she tried to help Clothilde he might attack them again. He took a couple of steps towards her and she screamed, raising her arm ready to strike him if he tried to touch either her or Clothilde.

  “Keep away from her!” she yelled, terrified that she would not be able to stop him attacking Clothilde again. “Keep away from her I tell you! You’re wrong. She didn’t betray anyone…”

  He stared at her, eyes narrowed and she was afraid that he would attack her next, but then she heard the sound of twigs cracking as if someone was coming and she thought perhaps Jack had decided to follow Clothilde after all.

  “We’re over here! Help! He’s trying to kill us…”

  The sound of someone crashing through the trees startled their assailant, and as a man rushed towards them, he turned and fled in the opposite direction.

  “What’s going on? I heard you scream – what is it, Christine?”

  Christine turned as she heard Paul’s voice, her body sagging with relief. “Oh, Paul. It was Captain Saunders. He was trying to strangle Clothilde…”

  “Clothilde?” Paul stared at her in bewilderment. “I don’t understand. Are you hurt – Helene?”

  Clothilde shook her head, her voice coming out in a rasping whisper. “I’m all right…”

  “Helene is really Clothilde Sanclere, my mother’s half sister.” She saw confusion in his eyes. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, Paul. It’s a long story and I’ll explain later – just help Clothilde and get us home, will you?”

  Clothilde looked as if she was on the verge of collapse, although she tried to walk as Paul approached her, but collapsed against him, making no further resistance as he swept her up in his arms.

  “That’s right, carry her,” Christine urged as she walked beside them. “I’m all right, Paul. Don’t worry about me. It was Clothilde he tried to attack.”

  “I was coming to the house and I saw you go into the woods. I wanted to…apologise for the other day.”

  “Please don’t. We’ll talk later.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “The most important thing is to get your friend t
o her home.”

  Beth was horrified when she heard the story.

  “It’s Jack’s fault for upsetting her. She wouldn’t have gone into the woods alone if he hadn’t.”

  “Captain Saunders must have been hanging around on the off chance of seeing her alone. Someone has to phone the police. He might try again if they don’t stop him.”

  “Jack is seeing to that. He feels awful over this – and so do I. Anything could have happened if you hadn’t followed her, Christine. You probably saved her life.” Beth’s face went white. “He might have killed both of you if Paul hadn’t arrived when he did.”

  “It’s all right, Mummy,” Christine told her. “I’m fine and Clothilde is lying down now. She tried to say she didn’t want the doctor, but she can hardly speak and I think perhaps she ought to have him.”

  “Yes, of course she must. I’ll telephone the doctor at once if Jack hasn’t already done it. As I said, he was distressed over what had happened, and I am sure he will apologise to Clothilde as soon as she is feeling better. This has all been distressing for all of us,” Beth said. “And to think that Clothilde was attacked in our own woods! Captain Saunders must be having a nervous breakdown or something. He should be in hospital or locked up where he can do no more harm. I remember Helene saying that he had been a bit odd with her at the dance…I mean Clothilde, of course.”

  “It’s going to take a bit of getting used to.” Christine looked at Paul, who had carried Clothilde up to her room and was now standing uncertainly in the hallway. “Come into the study, Paul. I would like to tell you about Clothilde – at least part of her story. It’s very long and involved and I think we both need a drink.”

  Paul followed her inside, watching in silence as she poured sherry for them both and then brought him a glass. “I want to apologise for what I said to you the other day. I had no right.”