Rose, Rose Where Are You?

by Nicola Thorne

  I finished reading it aloud for the second time, and when I’d finished no one spoke until Michelle breathed: “It’s like a voice from the past.”

  “It is a voice from the past. It is Rose telling us all we want to know. Shall I tell you how I see it? It’s like this.” I stood up, as though I were giving a lecture, and paced back and forth.

  “Henri de Frigecourt, at the tender age of fifteen – and who are we to judge? – but for some reason betrays his family. In exchange, he is allowed to live and goes free. Maybe he does blot out the bits and pieces he doesn’t like from his mind. He certainly doesn’t try to see his family again – he is too ashamed – until he studies, becomes an antique dealer, makes money. He becomes an authority on jewels and in his researches, which, incidentally, are about French royal jewels ...”

  “How do you know that?” Tom interrupted sharply.

  “He told me. I’m sure that was quite accidental. However, in these researches he discovers that part of the Burgunderbeute – the fabulous Burgundian treasure that Duke Charles, who was a very vain man, carried with him wherever he went, even onto the field of battle – was stolen for sure by one of his kinsmen and taken back to Picardy. What had only been a rumour now became a certainty. And where did the treasure eventually end up, but in the family home in Picardy, the de Frigecourt chateau, which stood on the site of the old prison? As far as anyone knew, the jewels had never been dispersed; perhaps he found out for certain they had not.

  “He then felt compelled to probe deeper, to discover more. Maybe he actually found evidence that the Burgunderbeute is hidden in the chateau at Port St Pierre. But he still felt he couldn’t reveal himself to his brother, who might guess his treachery – the only thing he was really ashamed of. He meets Rose and uses her, but she dies too soon. Perhaps she tries to blackmail him and he kills her. I don’t know. He then hits on the idea of ‘returning’ as Jean, who would never have betrayed anybody. Henri must have known he was a nasty, sneaky kid, and ...”

  There was a furious pounding at the door. Tom rushed out and came back with Nicolas Bourdin, whose face was ashen.

  “Michelle, Michelle, come quickly, the chateau is on fire!”

  The sequence of events then, even as I think about it now, is too disordered to remember. I know that we left the house and ran up towards the chateau. We could see great clouds of smoke billowing from the trees that surrounded it. But when we got there, we saw it wasn’t the chateau; it was the little summer house that was ablaze, setting fire to the trees surrounding it.

  As we got there, the top window in one of the little turrets was pushed open and Jeanne’s head appeared.

  “Jump, Jeanne, jump ...”

  But she stood back, and Fabrice came out onto the sill, where he stood looking fearfully down.

  “Why don’t they break the door down?” I screamed.

  “It’s too stout, and it’s locked.”

  “Look ...” as Fabrice jumped I shut my eyes, but he landed in the arms of Nicolas, who hugged him and rushed him over to Michelle. I was amazed there were so few people there. It must have happened within minutes, and Nicolas had come immediately for his sister. We could hear the sound of the fire engine now in the distance.

  Then Tom took Nicolas’ place and Noelle jumped. Tom caught her and staggered. And then Philippe was clinging to the sill, wavering, too frightened to let go. Jeanne leaned out and gave him her hand. He clutched it and then dropped again into Nicolas’ sturdy arms.

  Thank God the children were safe. I rushed as near as I could go to the blazing hut and stood below the window. “Jeanne, jump!”

  Jeanne stared down at me, her face blackened with smoke. She seemed to try and climb out onto the sill and then suddenly she disappeared.

  “Jeanne, Jeanne!” I screamed. Then Tom appeared and dragged me back.

  “It’ll be going up like a torch in a minute.”

  “But Jeanne’s in there! Oh, Tom, do something!”

  “Darling, I can’t. I wish I could.”

  The fire engine swept round the drive and in seconds three men were battering at the door with a stout pole. The door gave easily, and they rushed in as smoke came billowing out.

  When they emerged one of them held Jeanne over his shoulder. He laid her tenderly on the ground and put his mouth to hers. Michelle ran up and thumped Jeanne’s chest, then she too put her mouth to hers trying desperately to breathe life into her.

  I couldn’t believe it. A minute ago I’d seen her ... I left the children who were huddled together covered with blankets and went up to her inert body lying on the ground. Her eyes were closed.

  “Is she dead?” I whispered to Michelle.

  “She’s still breathing, but listen!”

  Jeanne opened her eyes wide and seemed to be looking for something. Her dim gaze rested on me. She was trying to speak. I bent close to her.

  “Jeanne, you’ll be all right.”

  She gave a cough and shook her head. I put my ear to her mouth.

  “I said the harm would come from someone who knew the house. Look to it, Clare, look to it.” She started breathing very rapidly and her body jerked in a sudden spasm. Her eyes opened wide and looked upwards as though she’d seen something, someone and a beautiful smile briefly illuminated her face. Then she died. Maybe in her last moments St Joan had come for her. I hope so.

  The cause of death was asphyxiation, or so the autopsy later said. I thought that what Jeanne had known would come – her death – had come, and at the appointed time. Her body was taken into the house and put in the library. The children were rushed upstairs, bathed, dressed in warm clothes, and given hot drinks.

  People seemed to be streaming in and out of the chateau all the time, but once the fire engine arrived, the fire was quickly extinguished. Nicolas had noticed it start when his boat came in on the tide; he’d rushed home immediately and then to Michelle – that’s why he’d thought the chateau itself was on fire. It began as a wisp of smoke, he said, coming from the trees.

  I can’t remember when it was that somebody asked, “Where is Laurent?” And we realised that neither Laurent nor his brother were anywhere about. Lisa, it appeared, was out too. It was puzzling to me that Jeanne had decided to hold afternoon lessons in the summer house until Philippe explained, his teeth still chattering with shock.

  “It was very cold in the chateau. One could make a fire in the summer house. Lisa suggested it and laid the fire for us.”

  “And was it a spark from the fire that started the big fire?”

  “Oh, no. That came from outside. There was a sudden big crackle.”

  I thought of the logs that Laurent had piled up against the summer house that day.

  “And where is your papa?”

  “He went hunting with Uncle Henri. It was such a lovely day. They left this morning, before we were up.”

  I looked at Tom, who was already getting on his coat.

  Michelle caught our glance and nodded.

  “I’ll stay with the children,” she said. “Go, go quickly.”

  “And don’t let Nicolas leave you, for a minute.”

  “The Fiat,” I said to Tom. “In the garage. I’ll drive because I know the way.”

  As we sped through the countryside, I found it incredible that we were doing this yet again.

  “Those dunes always spelt danger,” I said. “It was bound to end here.”

  “You think he’ll kill his brother?”

  “He’ll try. If he thinks the children are dead, the brother is the only one in his way.”

  “But he could have had anything he wanted.”

  “He was always afraid someone would get on to the truth of his treacherous past, now that they know he’s not Jean. He’d never feel safe.”

  Laurent’s car was in the park, but there was no sign of the men. It was a good day for the hunt and quite a few cars were there. Tom and I looked despairingly out over the flats.

  “I don’t know where to begi
n,” Tom said, and I thought of Laurent and the day Noelle was lost.

  “Let’s go north towards the bird sanctuary. There’s not much shooting there, and if Henri wants to take a pot shot at Laurent, that’s where he’ll do it. If he hasn’t done it already.”

  Suddenly, in front of me, I saw a figure running. It was far off, but my eyes were good. At first I thought it was a man.

  “Tom, quick, look over there!”

  Tom followed my pointing finger.

  “It’s Lisa.”

  “Lisa! She must have seen them.”

  We set off at a pace after Lisa, dodging among the dunes so that if she turned round she wouldn’t see us. Soon we came to the signs marking the limit of the hunt, but still Lisa ran on.

  “She’s running towards that house,” I said. “She seems to know where she’s going.”

  And sure enough, among the trees we could see a small hut, just a rough shooting box. Now it dawned on me that of course Henri would have had a hiding place near the chateau, and that .. .

  Lisa got to the hut, pushed open the door and went inside. Tom stopped.

  “Quickly!” I urged him. “But quietly. Do your best pathfinder act.”

  We crept up to the hut and listened at the door. There was no sound. My heart lurched.

  “There’s no one there,” Tom said.

  “We know Lisa’s there.”

  Before I knew what he was doing, Tom pushed on the door. It opened into an empty room, but we could hear voices coming from the adjoining room. As we stood in the doorway, we heard Lisa say:

  “Come quickly. There is a fire at the chateau.”

  We heard the sound of chairs being pushed back. Laurent’s voice said sharply, “Henri, I told you I saw smoke.”

  “Oh, relax,” Henri said.

  Then to my astonishment, Lisa started speaking rapidly to Henri in German. The scales, as they say, fell from my eyes. Tom, who speaks German, was listening intently.

  “She’s telling him the fire is a disaster, that everyone is alive. He’s trying to tell her to shut up.”

  Not only could Tom speak German, but Laurent was listening too.

  It was then that we announced our presence by walking into the room. Lisa and Henri stopped arguing with each other and stared at us. I was happy to see the guns resting in a far corner.

  “What is this?” Laurent began, but I could tell by the look of horror on his face that he was beginning to understand.

  “Your brother wanted to kill you,” Tom said, and he rapidly outlined all I’d said at the house. Distraught as I was, I was proud to see how right my deductions had been, if Henri and Lisa’s faces were any measure.

  “The only thing I didn’t realise,” I said, “was that Lisa was your girlfriend.”

  “She’s my wife,” Henri admitted. “She wanted it all for our two sons.”

  “You would kill your whole family for that!” I felt too weak to go on.

  “He always had the weakness for money,” Lisa said, “which was why he betrayed his father and brother. You only have to offer Henri money and he will do anything. The Burgunderbeute was too much for him.”

  “So it was the Burgunderbeute,” Tom said with satisfaction.

  “What?” Laurent cried. “Whatever can that have to do with all this?”

  “Your brother is greedy, very greedy. You don’t remember this from your childhood, as you don’t recall the broken nose. Obviously you were too young, and time has made you honour his memory and forget the bad things, if ever you knew them. Your brother didn’t dare return home because of what he had done. He became a writer, and in his researches he came across references to the famous Burgunderbeute of Charles the Bold and saw how it was linked with his own family. Supposing it did still exist? What fabulous wealth – something worth finding beyond an ancient title and a few mortgaged estates. Something worth risking exposure for. And that is what happened.”

  As Tom related the story, it sounded like a fairy tale. The whole thing appeared incredible to the normal mind. Henri meanwhile was listening intently as though he was somehow detached from the drama not a participant, the main participant, in it.

  “But you would never have got away with it,” I said turning to him.

  “Oh, yes, we would have. We covered our tracks in everything we did. We would have sold the chateau and gone back to Germany. But it is not true that I wanted to kill my family. I wanted to frighten them away.”

  “And me,” I said. “The pot shot was from you, wasn’t it?”

  “ Well I missed you, didn’t I? It was only meant to frighten you. I knew you were sniffing around the chateau. I used to see you on the beach looking at it. I wondered what you knew.”

  “You were lucky he missed you,” Lisa said derisively. “Poor Elizabeth wasn’t so fortunate.” Then, seeing the pain on Laurent’s face, Lisa faltered before hurrying on. “He’s been planning this for years. It was an obsession. He thought you would recognise him if he came back, so he tried to cause an ‘accident’ in Paris. I think he thought it wouldn’t be murder if you were killed because it was just a chance. He was very timid then. He was shocked when Elizabeth was so badly injured, and his plans lay dormant for a while. After all, he was a de Frigecourt,” she said mockingly.

  “It is not true, it is not true,” Henri hissed savagely. “The plan to terrorize you came from the German here, brought up by her Nazi father. Frighten them to death, she urged me. She relished it, staging little accidents, the boat, the disappearance of Philippe. She shut him up in that room and wanted to push him out of the window. In time she was persuaded he’d panic and jump. I was horrified when I heard.”

  Lisa lunged at him, and I was appalled by the savagery and hatred engendered between two people who had perhaps once loved each other.

  “Nothing you say is true,” Lisa shouted. “Everything was done at your suggestion. You did want to be rid of them; you simply lacked the will. I tried to give you guts.”

  “Lisa just set fire to the pavilion,” Henri cried, “and Lisa wanted to kill Rose. She was jealous of her because she thought we were having an affair.”

  Henri had gripped Lisa’s arms and she struggled to try and free herself.

  “That is not true. I could see at once, as soon as I came to visit Henri, that Rose was attracted to him – always hanging around, pretending to be interested in his work. He had deliberately sought her out once he came to the district, knowing she was employed at the chateau. He pretended to be interested in her in order to use her; she would look in the library for him, let him in when everyone was in bed. It was he who discovered the treasure, and then sent for me to remove it, but first he had to get rid of Rose. She knew far too much and had threatened to blackmail him, to expose him to the de Frigecourt family.

  I released a loud sigh and Lisa stopped talking. For now I knew why Rose had died. Silly, stupid girl – neither wicked nor bad, just silly.

  “Of course, Rose didn’t know Henri was one of the missing brothers,” Lisa continued in her halting English, occasionally lapsing into German, curling her lips venomously. “She didn’t realise what sort of person she was dealing with - someone who had suffered remorse for many many years and then been overcome by greed. She should have taken more care. Well, one afternoon there was a scene at Henri’s house in Port St Pierre. Rose realised she was late and ran from the house. Henri followed her and offered to row her across the canal, explaining that she could easily walk across the bay. He didn’t tell her the tide was due soon and that she had very little chance of getting to the other side.”

  Tom was quietly translating for me as Lisa spoke, hastily, casting hateful looks at her husband.

  “It was an accident,” Henri insisted. “She was across the canal in plenty of time.”

  “How can one believe anything you say?” Tom said. “Your life has been dominated by greed and deceit.”

  Now I knew how she’d died. Poor Rose. I thought of her embarking on that lonely w
alk across the sand; it was beginning to get dark, but she thought she had plenty of time. Her lover – was he her lover? I suppose we’d never know, but somehow I didn’t think so - would have assured her there was plenty of time, hours maybe. Certainly he’d sent her to her death. He had murdered her as surely as if he’d held her head under while she drowned. Then the tide began rushing in, the way it does; she couldn’t swim. She was stranded on a sandbank. The water rose higher. Maybe she could walk – it would be better than waiting for death. But death came anyway, as the wet exhausted girl, struggling up to her neck in the swift current, lay down on the bank and was exposed to the cold night air.

  What I still didn’t know, and probably would never know, was why Rose came to see me. Was she trying to tell me she was in danger? Did she suspect that Henri would try and kill her because of what she knew? But she was greedy, too; she was going to stay and blackmail him when she should have run for her life. That was it! She wanted to try and get rid of Jeanne, to spread poison around so that Laurent would hear and tell her to go. Then Rose would have the chateau to herself, to search for the booty alone. She was going to implicate me in her web. But Rose hadn’t left enough time ...

  “Lisa, how did you get the job with Laurent?” I asked suddenly.

  “We knew he’d want a nanny now that Rose was gone. I simply turned up at the house and said I’d come from the agency. The poor man never troubled to check; he was too trusting.”

  “It all seems so futile!” I protested. “All this plotting and killing when it was so unnecessary. Laurent loved you Henri; you were the real Marquis. You could have had everything – jewels and all.”

  “He still had a conscience,” Tom said. “He is, after all, a de Frigecourt, one of a noble line. To have betrayed his father and brother was a crime even he couldn’t live with. Everything he did had to be done by stealth.”

  “You don’t know what it was like,” Henri whispered, looking at his brother. “It wasn’t for money. It was from fear. They knew my father was the leader of the group, but they could never catch him at it. One day they took me after school and threatened to torture me and kill all my family if I didn’t tell them the next assignment. They promised no harm would come to me or to my family; they would just be warned. I was only fifteen.”