Lost Heritage

by Rebecca Stratton

  She got to her feet and went hurriedly along the bus, signalling to the driver that she wanted to get off, and he obligingly pulled up only a few metres beyond Annette Villeaux's gateway. He winked an eye as she got off and smiled, murmuring something in French about forgetful women.

  Charlotte had never been so angry in her life before, and she did not even stop to consider that it stemmed from a new and very protective feeling for her natural mother. It was directed entirely against Michel Menais because he could quite openly visit his mistress while his wife lay in hospital without the will to recover, unable to bring herself back from an attempt to stupefy herself into oblivion, or death.

  She did not even hesitate but went straight in through the open gateway and along the short drive with her heart hammering wildly, echoed by a thudding pulse at her temple that made her head spin. Maybe she was just a little n^d in that moment, but she felt she had good reason. She had just made a staggering discovery about Lizette,

  and Lizette had suffered enough from Michel Menais' promiscuity, no matter what indiscretion she might have been guilty of in the past. Twenty-two years was too long to pay for the crime of once having had a lover, and she meant to tell Michel and his mistress so.

  The house had a neat white front door, a virginal expanse that Charlotte eyed contemptuously before she raised her hand and knocked hard on the wood panel. She had heard voices, she felt sure, immediately before she knocked, but it was silent now and she listened tensely for someone coming. It seemed like an eternity, but eventually the door was opened part way and she was looking directly into the bold dark face of Annette Villeaux.

  It was hard to believe that she looked discomfited, and yet that was the impression that Charlotte got in the first few seconds while the girl's dark eyes stared at her in disbelief. *What—what is it that you want?' she asked in a vaguely unsteady voice, and glanced hastily over her shoulder into the house, a gesture that Charlotte noticed and frowned over.

  *To say something to you that I can't keep to myself any longer!' Charlotte answered bluntly, and once more Annette Villeaux gave that curiously apprehensive look over her shoulder. It surely could not matter so much to her that Charlotte had called while Michel was with her when she had openly boasted about her conquest. *And I don't care if Michel Menais hears me too!' Charlotte stated rashly. *In fact I rather hope he does! I don't suppose it matters to you or him that Madame Lizette isn't even trying to fight for her life, but to the people who care for her there's something—something obscene about her husband being with his mistress while she lies there trying to find something to live for! Maybe you think '

  Charlotte stopped and caught her breath audibly, staring at the man who came from a room to the left of the tiny

  entrance hall. He stood for just a second in the doorway, then started across towards the door, and the moment he started coming her way Charlotte turned and ran.

  Her stomach was churning as if she was about to be sick and tears ran down her face as she ran along the short drive to the road. Never in her life had she felt so embarrassed or so stunned by events, and she instinctively blamed Raoul for it, because he had never by so much as a flick of a brow given her any inkling that he shared his cousin's taste in mistresses.

  She had no idea where she was going; it did not seem to matter at the moment except that she got as far away as possible from Annette ViUeaux's house and a situation that made her feel physically ill. She would never be able to feel the same way about Raoul again, and that, deep in her heart, was what troubled her most.

  Her legs felt weak and unsteady as she walked out on to the road and a passing motorist set his horn shrieking angrily at her when she unconsciously swerved too far out into the road. Whichever way she chose to go she would have to walk, for there was no other bus for more than an hour, and another fact came to her as she strode jerkily along with her head bowed. She had left Lizette's case on the seat in the bus. It was the last straw, she felt, and she cried unrestrainedly as she stumbled along the gritty road to Paris.

  It was several moments before she became vaguely aware of another car approaching from behind, and she simply stepped further into the side to make way, heedless of anything but her own humiliation and misery. She did not even turn her head when it drove past her and then drew up just ahead. Not until she recognised the car she had seen on Annette Villeaux's drive and Raoul's long legs swinging out on to the road to come striding back* towards her did she realise he had followed her. And that, even to her fuddled

  brain, made no kind of sense at all.

  He stood immediately in front of her, blocking her way, and she shook her head urgendy, finding it hard to believe he meant to embarrass her further. She would have sidestepped and gone on walking, but Raoul took possession of both hands and made it impossible, bringing her to a halt with the pressure of strong brown fingers.

  The overhead trees cast dancing, fluttering shadows over his face and thick lashes hid whatever was in his eyes, then he put an arm about her shoulders, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and turned her in the direction of the car. It was then that Charlotte recovered something of her self-possession, and she shrugged away from the caressive arm angrily, imagining she could smell that strong exotic scent of Annette Villeaux's on him.

  *Don't!' she whispered huskily. *Go back to your—your girl-friend and leave me alone! Just go away and don't make things any worse for me! I'm just as embarrassed as you are—more so!' she added bitterly.

  *I simply wish to explain ' Raoul began, but Charlotte turned swiftly and faced him, there on the road with the sunshine dappling their shadows with shifting gold lights on the dusty surface.

  *You don't have to explain anything!' she told him breathlessly. *Don't you understand? I didn't know—I

  didn't have any idea How could I know that you as

  well as Michel ' She turned and walked off once more,

  heedless of the direction she took but despairing of making her escape when she heard firm footsteps on the road behind her. Then a liand on her arm, spinning her round towards him once more. 'Oh, please, Raoul, go away! I'm— I'm sorry I came, I didn't want to embarrass you, I just didn't know '

  *You still do not know,' Raoul interrupted quietly, and she looked up at him for just a second.

  The grey eyes had a curious and unfamiliar look that sent litde thrills of sensadon fluttering up and down her spine when she looked into them, then hastily looked away again. *You were there with—her,' she said in a small flat voice. *But if you're anxious in case I tell Michel ' She swallowed hard and brushed away a tear that trembled on her lashes with the back of one hand. *It's none of my business; you don't have to worry!'

  *I am not in the least worried, Charlotte, except that you are so obviously distressed. And you have no need to apologise for embarrassing me—you did not!' His hands reached out and strong fingers gripped the tops of her arms. It was a stunningly familiar stance and she almost waited for him to draw her into his arms as he had before from that position. Instead he stood looking down at her bowed head for a moment and saying nothing. *Will you get into the car and come with me?' he asked, and in such a persuasive voice that Charlotte looked up sharply, her eyes blankly stuimed for a moment.

  *After you've been ' She looked back along the road

  to the white house that stood serenely bland in the sunlight. *You're asking me to '

  *I am asking that you come with me and drink a coffee or cognac or perhaps both,' he told her quiedy, but with a hint of the customary impatience somewhere in the deep persuasive voice, 'that is all, Charlotte. Is that too much to ask of you?'

  «No, but '

  *I wish to talk with you, that is all,' he pressed, taking advantage of her obvious uncertainty. *I would like to make things more clear to you, hmm?'

  *It isn't necessary!' Charlotte insisted. *You don't have to make anything any clearer to me, it was all perfecdy clear back there! Will you please just leave me to—go
on my way.'

  it

  Raoul glanced along the seemingly endless road widi its border of trees and she thought that for just a second his mouth looked as if it might be smiling. *To Paris?* he asked, and made the idea sound just as ludicrous as she knew it to be. *It is not within walking distance, Charlotte, and there is not another bus for almost an hour. You were not thinking of hitch-hiking, I hope?'

  Dazed and still instinctively resentful, Charlotte shook

  her head. *No, I thought ' She caught her breath in

  despair at her own helplessness. *Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do, but it need not concern you, whatever it is!'

  *Indeed it does!' Raoul declared firmly. *I will not allow you to walk all the way to Paris, nor all the way back to Les Chataignes. You are at the point of no return,' he pointed out. 'About half way between the two. All I want is for you to come with me to a cafe somewhere and have coffee while we talk.'

  But to Charlotte, knowing what she did, it was simply not possible to face sitting across a small cafe table from him, and it was in that moment that she realised her indignation was now entirely on her own behalf. Lizette's cause had been momentarily forgotten in the shock of discovering him with Annette Villeaux.

  *What would be the point in talking?' she asked dispiritedly, and Raoul frowned.

  *The point is, ma belle,'' he told her crisply, *that if you do not at once stop putting obstacles in my way I shall lose my temper, and you will not, I think, find that very much to your liking!'

  A flutter of sensation shot through her whole body and made the pulse in her head pound dizzily, but she still could not rid herself of the sight of him coming so con-fidendy out into that tiny hallway to join Annette Villeaux. She held her hands clasped closely together over her hand-

  bag and kept diem between their two bodies, forcing him to keep his distance.

  *Come!'

  Raoul turned her swifdy and unexpectedly in the direction of the car once more, meeting her initial resistance with an even firmer grip on her arm, so that she eventually did as he wanted her to. Opening the passenger side door, he half-pushed her into the seat then slammed the door on her. Her handbag, only Hghtly held in one hand, was knocked from her grasp by the door closing and its contents spilled all over the floor. She was still scrabbling around trying to recover them when he slid into the seat beside her, turning briefly to look at her enquiringly. ^D'accord?' he asked, then started the engine when she nodded silendy.

  Raoul drove with the same panache so many of his countrymen did, but Charlotte's thoughts were concentrated more on the driver than the way he drove. He was as disturbing a companion in the close proximity of a car as he was anywhere else and she wished she could feel more detached, especially in the present situation.

  His jacket lay on the back seat and the sleeves of his cream shirt revealed tanned muscular arms; arms that she had good reason to know were a strength to be reckoned with. His long legs in pale grey slacks were slighdy cramped by the available space and she could not imagine what he would do in a smaller car. Glancing at the profile he presented to her, she could see only strength and confidence, but her body tingled at the iremembered passion of that firm straight mouth and she cringed inwardly at the tiiought of sharing the experience with Annette Villeaux.

  They had driven perhaps a couple of kilometres when he turned off the road and on to the stony forecourt of a tiny cafe that looked at first sight to be someone's colintry cottage instead of what -it was. Festoons of advertisements,

  some so old that the products were no longer marketed, were the only betraying factor until one caught a glimpse of weathered faces and hunched figures in the shadowy interior of the place. Sipping coffee thinned from the little glasses of water beside each cup, and watching with the closed look of country people for strangers.

  Around the back of the building, however, there was a large neglected orchard whose ragged apple trees were in the untidy stage between blossom and fruit and spread out over several small tables each with two chairs. The grass underfoot was cool and soft and uncut, but the earth smelled good after a recent light shower and the sun was warm through the crooked branches of the trees.

  It was impossible to do other than begin to relax the minute she walked out there, and Charlotte obediently sat down on one of the chairs after Raoul had rubbed over the seat of it with his pocket handkerchief. He stood looking down at her enquiringly as she crossed one slim leg over the other in an attempt to appear at ease.

  *Coffee, please,' she said in answer to his enquiry, and carefully avoided his eyes after one brief glance.

  •Black?'

  It was discomfiting to suspect that he found her reticence even slighdy amusing, but there was nothing* she could do about the way her hands curled automaticaUy into fists as she nodded agreement. *Yes, please.'

  *l will be only one moment!' She nodded and he half-turned, then turned back, his eyes slighdy narrowed in the way she knew so well. *You will wait?'

  It was as much demand as question and for a moment she hesitated. Then as she nodded her head in agreement she remembered something that had until now completely slipped her mind. *Oh, Raoul——' He came back swiftiy and something in his eyes held her silent for just a second, then she went on, hurriedly and rather breathlessly. 1

  don't know what I should do about it, but I was taking a suitcase for Madame Lizette to the hospital and I—^I got off in such a hurry I left it on the bus.'

  He considered for a moment and seemed rather surprised to learn the nature of her original errand, she thought, then he nodded. *Sit there and relax until I bring you your coffee,' he told her. *I will not be very long.'

  Charlotte watched him go, striding off across the cool and slighdy damp grass as if he knew exactly what he was about, and something in his expression led her to expect she would be drinking cognac as well as the coffee she had asked for. The country brandies could be rough in comparison to the more expensive makes, but they went well with strong black coffee and she was nothing loath to try it in this instance.

  Almost certainly he would do something about Lizette's suitcase while he was gone, although she had no idea what. But it was instinctive to leave things like that in his capable hands, and realising it did nothing to bring her to terms with the present situation. It should not matter so much that she had found him out, cheating his cousin by stealing his mistress, but it did, and that worried her.

  She was already feeling something of her original reaction returning when he reappeared. Carrying two glasses of brandy, he came ducking under the branches of the apple trees with a short stout man, who was presumably the landlord, waddling along close behind him bearing a wooden tray on which were two small thick cups of coffee that spiralled fragrant steam in his wake.

  The man's quick bright eyes speculated on their relationship as he put down the tray and wiped his hands on the grubby apron he wore, murmuring something in French which Charlotte responded to with a faint smile, ignoring the fact that he addressed her as madame. She had too much else on her mind at the moment.

  *Did you manage to find out something about Madame Lizette*s case?' she asked as soon as the man was out of earshot, and Raoul nodded.

  *I telephoned the hospital and asked that Menton, Grand'mere's chauffeur, should meet the bus when it arrives at the tenninus. He will coUect the case and deliver it—no bother.'

  The Americanism sat oddly on his pedantic tongue, but it brought home to Charlotte the fact that he was an important man in the business world, in the habit of mixing with all nationalities, and those curt, slick phrases were all too easy to adopt in the appropriate circumstances. He was also a very attractive one and that was uppermost in her mind at the moment.

  *You do not have to worry about it, Charlotte,' he told her, catching her eye. *It was not necessary for you to deliver it personally, was it?'

  *No, of course not!'

  It was not the moment to tell him that she had hoped to be able to
get in to see Lizette, just for a moment or two, and when she thought about it it had been very unlikely anyway. Only family were allowed in to see her, and as far as anyone but Charlotte herself knew, she was not family.

  Rough brown sugar stirred lumpily around in her cup while Charlotte stared down into the thick black brew. She knew that Raoul was watching her as he drank his own, un-sugared but with the cognac poured into it, and he put a finger behind the second glass and pushed it nearer, but she shook her head. It might be as well after all to keep a clear head.

  *Better drink it,' he advised, sipping from his own cup. *You wiU feel better if you do, Charlotte.'

  Looking up in sudden anger, Charlotte met his eyes, her own bright and shiny as two gold-fringed sapphires. *The way I feel, cme brandy isn't going to improve matters!' she

  told him, and Raoul held her gaze steadily until she looked away.

  It shouldn't be like this, she told herself. It was not she who should feel in the wrong; he should feel at least a litde embarrassed at being discovered in the situation she had found him in. Instead he looked as if he had absolutely no reason to feel disturbed at all.

  Terhaps after two brandies or even three, you will find the necessary tolerance to Usten to me,' he said coolly and with only a suggestion of impatience in his voice. *What is it that you suspect me of, Charlotte, hein?^ One !^ack brow mocked her discomfiture and in that moment Charlotte felt she could quite easily have hated him.

  *I don't—I just felt—embarrassed at finding you there

  with ' She spread her hands in that curiously helpless

  gesture that was typical of her, and shook her head, aware that the grey eyes were still fixed on her steadily. *0h, please don't make me spell it out, Raoul! You must know how I feel and you must know that the last thing I want is for you to hold an inquest on something I'm only too anxious' to forget about!' Just briefly she looked up and met his eyes. I'd never thought of you as deliberately cruel!' she accused huskily, and was half-way to her feet when he reached out and grasped her hand so firmly that she could not break free.