Leonie (82 page)

“I was only thinking when I was out walking just now, that it all seemed so far away, lost in the past. The present is what counts now, Amélie, you’re quite right. Now, when do I meet Gérard de Courmont?”

Amélie looked downcast. “I don’t know. You see, I just ran away—I mean, I couldn’t stay in Paris, I couldn’t be with him—until I knew. Oh, dear, Mother, he must think I hate him, what shall I do? Perhaps I should telephone him and explain.”

Léonie managed a wry smile. “If Gérard is anything like his father, he’ll have figured out exactly where you are and he’s already on his way.”

Something was wrong. Jim watched Léonie as she smiled around the supper table at her family, together for the very first time. There was a dimming of her natural exuberance, something lurked at the back of her eyes, a faint worry. Surely she couldn’t still be concerned about Gilles de Courmont, the man was a cripple, powerless, and probably still living in fear that his blackmailing assassin would return to threaten him again.

“Well, this is a true celebration.” Jim patted the hand of the little girl next to him. “Are you Lais or Leonore?” he asked with a grin.

The child giggled. “Lais.”

“All right, Lais, here’s some lemonade for you—and some for Leonore.” Jim filled their glasses from the big crystal jug with the gleaming slices of lemon. “And we’ll all drink a toast. To your mother and your grandmother—together at last.”

He clinked glasses with the children, laughing as lemonade slopped onto the table. “This must be the happiest day of your mother’s life,” he told Amélie. “She’s waited years for this to happen.”

Amélie relaxed, it was as though she had known them forever, she felt so at ease with them, so comfortable.

“You’ll probably be seeing a lot more of us, now that I’m going to marry a Frenchman. At least I think I am … if he still wants me.”

“A Frenchman?”

Amélie looked so like Léonie when she smiled; the smile lit up her whole face. “Gérard de Courmont. Didn’t Mother tell you?”

Jim’s eyes met Léonie’s. So that was it. My God, the girl was thinking of marrying Monsieur’s son!

“I’m happy to hear it, Amélie,” he said, helping the children to the roast chicken. How was Léonie going to handle this? He glanced at her as she sipped her wine, gripping the glass a little too tightly. Well, this was one they hadn’t counted on. What next?

The story his mother had finally told him kept running through Gérard’s mind as he drove his big blue de Courmont car through the night. No wonder Amélie had run away, and there was only one person she would run to: Léonie. He hadn’t known the terrible fear that was in her mind until Marie-France had told him everything, but she swore that Léonie had told her the truth—she knew it. Monsieur had been Léonie’s lover, but he was not the father of her child. Gérard pressed his foot on the accelerator angrily. Nothing was going to stand in his way: not his father, not Léonie. He and Amélie were the future and they had a right to their happiness. The car slowed as he turned into the outskirts of Nice and headed for the coast road, almost there, just a few more miles and he would be with Amélie.

The sun was warming the hillside as he finally swung the car to a halt outside La Vieille Auberge. Gérard glanced at the clock on the dashboard: it was just seven o’clock, very early for such a visit. What if Amélie weren’t there? He dismissed the idea as he leapt from the car, slamming the door behind him. Of course she was there, where else would she go? The front door stood open and he could hear the soft slap of a mop on a wet floor as he hesitated with his hand on the bell.

“Hello,” he called softly.

A face appeared around the edge of the door at the far end of the hall.

“Hello,” called Gérard, “I’m sorry to disturb you so early but I’ve traveled all the way from Paris. Is anyone up?”

Madame Frenard nodded. “You’ll be Gérard de Courmont. Madame Léonie is expecting you, I’ll tell her you’re here.”

Gérard stared after her in surprise. She was expecting him?

Madame Frenard returned. “Madame says will you wait, sir, in the salon. I’ll bring you some coffee and madame will be with you in a few minutes.”

She showed him into the salon and disappeared again. Gérard sat down on the sofa and then stood up again, prowling the charming room nervously. It was going to be strange meeting for the first time the woman whose shadowy presence had dominated his whole life.

Léonie stood in the doorway with Jim behind her. He had refused to let her see this through alone. You’re not on your own anymore, he’d argued. This affects me as well as you and, anyway, I feel as though you need someone in your corner. She’d given in gratefully, she wasn’t at all sure what was going to happen. Jim’s opinion of Gérard’s honesty would be the deciding factor.

“Good morning.” Léonie’s voice was low and Gérard swung round in surprise.

“Madame.” He stepped forward holding out his hand. He had the looks of Monsieur when she had first met him, thought Léonie, and she sensed the same forceful nature, the same strength of will, that had made Monsieur so successful in business. But his eyes had a more gentle gaze, and there were cheerful crinkles at the corners. He smiled at her now, an open grin that belied the anxiety and fatigue in his face.

“This is my husband, Mr. Jamieson.”

“Well, now,” said Jim, pouring coffee, “let’s hear what you have to say, Monsieur de Courmont. Amélie’s here with her mother, but I think there is a little explaining to do before you see her.”

He looked at Gérard inquiringly, stirring his coffee, like a father surveying the prospective suitor for his daughter’s hand, thought Léonie gratefully.

Gérard hesitated. “It’s not easy.…”

“You can speak freely, Gérard,” Léonie said quietly. “There are no secrets in this household.”

“Very well, madame, though there’s very little for me to say. I love Amélie. We met in Paris a few weeks ago, though you might say I’ve known of her for years, through my friendship with her cousin, Sebastião do Santos. I had no idea that she was your daughter until my mother met Amélie, and then, of course, she realized. It was she who told me of the court case my father brought against you and how you hid your daughter from him.
Your
daughter, madame, not
his.
” Gérard paused to emphasize his point.

Léonie nodded slowly. “Go on.”

“I’m here to ask Amélie to marry me—and to ask you not to
allow the past to harm our future together. It was your past, madame, and my father’s. I beg you not to let his errors—his sins—influence your judgment. I’m here only because I love Amélie; maybe the way my father loved you once.”

“Your father never loved me.” The words sprang from her lips as though they’d been trembling there waiting to be spoken for years.

“Forgive me, madame, but I think you are wrong. My father’s tragedy was that he cared too much, and because of some twist in his nature he was unable to show it.”

Léonie avoided Jim’s eyes. Why was her heart pounding like this?

“And how do you think your father will react to the fact that you want to marry my daughter—the girl he once claimed was his own?”

Gérard’s shrug was expressive. “I have never known what my father felt, but whatever it is, it will not affect my intention to marry Amélie. My life is my own.”

Léonie believed him, his face was earnest and anxious. He was a young man desperately in love. She didn’t want to say it, but it had to be said.

“There’s something else you should know about your father, and then you will understand why I am anxious for your reassurances and for Amélie’s safety. It’s difficult for me to say this, Gérard, but your father was … concerned in the death of Charles d’Aureville.”

Gérard’s gaze sharpened. “His death?”

“There was an accident, nothing was ever proven, but I have reason to believe that he was … involved.”

Was there no end to this? Gérard’s head sank into his hands. He could hear Léonie speaking, as though from afar. “Your father made me fear for Amélie’s safety. It was because of him I had to hide her in Brazil with the d’Aureville family … because of him that I was unable to have my child with me.”

Gérard stared miserably at the floor. This was worse than he could ever have imagined. He knew his father well enough to know how he must have tortured her, but “involved” in the death of Charles d’Aureville?

“Did my father kill him?” he demanded hoarsely.

“No … no, he didn’t kill him. He was involved.” Léonie
couldn’t hurt him any further; it wasn’t his fault. How could she tell him his father was a murderer?

“Madame Léonie, my father is an old man—older even than his years. He is crippled. For years he couldn’t even speak and only with the bitterest struggle has he managed to conquer his disability a little. Whatever happened in the past, I can assure you that he is unable even to look after himself now, he needs constant care. I can’t say that he has forgotten the past, because I don’t know. I was never close to him, no one ever was, except perhaps you. But I can promise you this: no harm will ever come to Amélie. She is safe now, madame, I am sure of it. I can’t ask you to forgive my father’s sins, but I do beg of you not to let them affect us. Don’t let this battle go on, madame, with Amélie and myself as the only victims!”

Jim walked across to Léonie and put his arm around her shoulder. “Gérard is right, the past is the past. If he and Amélie love each other, that’s all that matters.”

Gérard’s eyes met his gratefully; if ever he needed an ally, the time was now.

Léonie gripped Jim’s hand; she wanted to believe him, she really wanted to believe him.

“Gérard!” Amélie stood in the doorway, the children peeking from behind the long skirts of her robe. Sleep vanished from their eyes as they recognized him.

“Gérard, it’s Gérard!” they shrieked, dancing forward into his open arms.

Léonie saw the love in her daughter’s radiant face. She looked at Gérard with her grandchildren climbing on his knee, while he smiled at Amélie over the tops of their heads. Of course he loved her. They belonged to each other and she had no right to keep them apart. The past was the past—hers and Monsieur’s. Gérard swore he was helpless now. She glanced up at Jim and he met her eyes reassuringly.

“Well,” he announced cheerily, “it’s a little early for champagne, but I vote we celebrate with breakfast. Come on, Léonie, let’s leave these two alone. Lais, Leonore, let’s see what’s cooking for breakfast.”

Gérard and Amélie gazed into each other’s eyes from across the room.

“You’ve heard the story, then?”

He nodded. “It’s their story, not ours.” Gérard strode across the room and took her in his arms, where she belonged.

“I love you, Amélie,” he whispered. “Don’t ever run away from me again.”

“Never.” Her face was buried against his shoulder and her hair smelled sweet.

“Amélie, my father is the man your mother was afraid of all these years, the one she felt wanted to harm you.” She stirred in his arms and looked at him in bewilderment. “It’s hard for us to understand such emotions, but I have no doubt they were real—then. It’s all in the past, Amélie. He’s an old man, he’s crippled and helpless. I want to rid us of this burden once and for all. Will you come with me after lunch to meet him—as his future daughter-in-law? Please, Amélie, for my sake?”

“Of course.” Amélie didn’t hesitate. If Gérard said it would be all right, then it would be.

Gérard heaved a sigh of relief. The past would be buried and finished with today.

Gilles de Courmont’s apartment in the Hôtel de Paris occupied half an entire floor. Its big balconied windows overlooking the tropical gardens and the bay were shaded against the strong afternoon sun that left the room in an almost too-cool twilight. Gérard led Amélie to a chair by the window and opened the shutter so that the sun flowed in, while his manservant went to inform Monsieur le Duc that they had arrived.

“It’s all right,” Gérard reassured her. “When I saw him this morning he was in fine form. He said it was the best news he’d heard in years and that he would be happy to meet you. He just hopes you’ll not be upset by his infirmity—and by the troubles of the past.”

Though she smiled at him he could see she was very nervous, there was no doubt about it. After all, his father was the reason she had never been able to be with her mother, never been able to return to France.

“Monsieur le Duc will see you now, sir, madame.”

Gilles was waiting behind a vast leather-topped desk. Its surface was covered with books and papers and a pair of reading glasses served as a marker in the open volume in front of him. One shutter had been thrown back and light streamed in from behind him
so that it was hard at first to make out his face and Amélie stood in front of the desk uncertainly.

“Forgive me for not being able to greet you properly, but you are most welcome, my dear. I have waited a long time for this moment.”

His voice was low and slightly hoarse and the sentences were broken up into sections where he drew breaths. The effort he must have made was immense and Amélie’s sympathy went out to him.

“I’m happy to meet you, too, Monsieur.”

Unconsciously she had called him by Léonie’s old name and Gilles flinched. She looked so like her mother it was painful, her hair had that same blondness—the color of good champagne, he remembered thinking that all those years ago on the yacht, that first time. He forced his thoughts back to the present, to Gérard’s voice.

“You’ll love the children, Father, two ready-made grandchildren. What more can any man ask for?”

Léonie’s granddaughters! Of course! Gilles sat back with a smile, contemplating his good fortune. Here was the girl he had been searching for for more than twenty years and she was his at last—marriage to Gérard would ensure that. And not only that, her children would be his, too, in his power, his to mold as he wished. A smile of satisfaction played around his mouth and observing it Gérard felt pleased. The old man was looking happy for the first time in years. This might be the best thing that could have happened.

A waiter arrived with iced tea and Gérard handed his father a glass, noting the involuntary tremble of his hands. He hoped they weren’t overexciting him; after all, it was a lot for him to accept in one day. “We shall leave soon, Father,” he said, sipping the tea, “we don’t want to tire you.”