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Authors: Rebecca Stratton

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BOOK: Lost heritage
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interest in the vast new airport, via the window beside him.

He constantly turned his head to speak, bringing their faces close together, a fact he obviously appreciated but which came to an abrupt end when Charlotte heard her name called sharply from the doorway, and she looked round swiftly to see Raoul Menais signalling to her with what she now assumed was habitual impatience.

^Mademoiselle,^ he informed her as she struggled to her feet, 'you will accompany Madame Menais through the barriere, if you please, while I supervise the disposal of our baggage.*

*Yes, of course, monsieur V

Most of the other passengers had already disembarked, she noticed, and she had not realised it until she looked along the rows of empty seats and the stewardess standing padendy at the top of the gangway. Jean Cordet had proved to be a very persuasive talker and she had become completely engrossed in what he was telling her, so that it was instinctive to glance back at him as she moved away. She caught the faint, resigned shrug of his shoulders and a brief smile, and so, it seemed, did Raoul Menais.

His cool, deep voice cut once more across the stifled, flat quiet of the cabin. 'If you will be good enough to move quickly, mademoiselle, I shall be obliged! Rest assured that Monsieur Cordet will take care of himself quite well!'

Flushed and discomfited under the eye of t{ie stewardess, Charlotte held her natural indignation in check as she made her way towards him along the narrow aisle to where he stood in the doorway. She could not protest at this stage, not with her own future in the balance if she offended him, but she had no intention of letting him think he could get away with bullying her.

'I wasn't aware that you needed me. Monsieur Menais,' she told him, and caught the swift elevation of (xie black brow.

7 do not need you, mademoiselley^ he informed her coolly. 'Madame Menais does!'

'Oh, but of course that's what I meant '

'Raoul!' Madame Menais's finn voice somehow managed to convey a reprimand without putting it into words and she came along the aisle with her back straight and her head angled in a way that showed her quite capable of dealing with even her domineering grandson. 'Please allow Miss Kennedy to pass so that she may see me down those wretchedly steep steps.'

He turned at once and held out a hand. 'Ah, Grand'mere, je vais *

'I do not need you, mon brave,^ Madame Menais informed him firmly, and Charlotte could scarcely believe she saw the glitter of mischief in her eyes when she looked at her. 'You will ensure that I do not break my neck, will you not. Miss Kennedy?'

Charlotte took her arm, feeling quite inordinately pleased to have Raoul Menais put in his place without having to lift a finger herself. 'Yes, of course, madame,^ she said.

The old lady smiled and nodded as Charlotte saw her through the door and on to the steps. 'You are a good girl,' she said complacendy, 'and we shall get along splendidly. Perhaps I will steal you away from Lizette and have you to care for me instead, eh?'

Raoul Menais said something to her in French which made her chuckle, but she was shaking her head as she followed Charlotte down the steps into the cool spring air. Charlotte held her hand, just enough to guide her, but from the comer of her eye she was aware of Raoul Menais frowning darkly and of Jean Cordet's broad smile just behind him.

Her first step in discovering her original family, she felt, had begun with rather more upheaval than she had anticipated, but she firmly believed she was on the right track.

Certainly Madame Menais was just the sort of family she would have chosen for herself, given the opportunity, and with the old lady as an ally there was less need to fear that black frown of Raoul Menais's. His grandmother knew how to handle him, though she was probably the only woman who could.

CHAPTER TWO

Charlotte's first impression of the Menais household was that it could prove to be even more complicated than she had anticipated. Her first sight of the family home was from the car that took them from the airport and was not quite what she expected. Raoul Menais rode in front with the chauffeur, a situation he obviously disliked, while Charlotte occupied the back seat with Madame Menais. Raoul, Charlotte suspected, would have preferred to do his own driving, but the car and the chauffeur were his grandmother's and for once he was not in a position to take command.

Once clear of the suburbs of Paris the countryside was delightful, and fresh with spring—tall trees and sunny meadows and houses that squatted deep amid blossom trees. It was Madame Menais who pointed out the first glimpse of her home as they sped along a narrow road beside lush green meadows, and Charlotte eased forward in her seat for a better view.

At first she saw no more than a suggestion of high pointed spires seen through a mass of trees bearing tall white candles of blossom; chesmuts, neat and roimd as country wives standing in the warm spring sunshine. Then through occasional gaf)s in the foliage she caught glimpses

of turrets and steep sloping roofs, breathtaking glimpses that suggested something much different from the small suburban house with its patch of garden that she was used to.

'It looks enormous/ she ventured, and Madame Menais smiled.

That was one of the most reassuring things about her, Charlotte had discovered, even after such short acquaintance; she was so very understanding. Her pride and self-possession were inborn but, unlike her grandson, she had gendeness and an ability to recognise nervousness and sympathise with it.

'Not so very large, child,' she told Charlotte encouragingly as the car turned along a chestnut-lined driveway. *It contains several households in one, as you will discover. We no longer hve en famille in the old sense of the word, although we are all under one roof.'

'Oh, I see.'

Charlotte was not quite sure what she had expected would be the conditions under which she lived, but the prospect of living under the same roof as Raoul Menais was faintly disturbing. It could, of course, prove to her advantage in the long run, for the more members of the Menais family she came into contact with the more chance she stood of discovering her own connection with them, if indeed one existed.

'It's beautiful too,' she said. 'But I hadn't anticipated anything quite so—grand.'

'Alas, it can no longer be called grand,' Madame Menais informed her with obvious regret, 'not as you mean the word. Miss Kennedy. It is beautiful, but sadly it is litde more than a block of appartements these days, and part of the ground floor is used as offices by my son and the other directors. It is better perhaps than to sell it and have strangers move into it, but it is not what my dear Hilaire would have wished.'

From the way she looked at the averted head of her grandson it was clear at whose instigation the changes had been made and, as if he sensed the look, Raoul spoke without turning his head. The fact that he said what he did in English instead of French was, Charlotte guessed, more to ensure that the chauffeur did not understand what was said than out of courtesy to her.

*The English have a saying, Grand'mere,' he told her, and his deep voice softened so noticeably that it was obvious he sympathised with her view even though he could not support it. *One cannot have the cake and also eat it-it is so with Les Chataignes.'

Leaning forward Madame Menais pressed her long slim fingers into his shoulder and smiled gendy at the lean arrogant profile he presented. *I am aware of it, mon cher^ she told him, *but I am too old to accept things as easily as you do. You must forgive me if I sometimes grieve for the old times and the old ways, it is an old woman's privilege. Is that not so, Miss Kennedy?'

Momentarily startled at being brought into their conversation, Charlotte hesitated with her answer and in doing so lost the opportunity, for Raoul immediately stepped in. 'Mademoiselle is hardly qualified to answer from the view of old age, Grand'mere,' he suggested, and just for a moment he turned his head and looked direcdy at Charlotte sitting in the comer of the seat with her face in the shadows. 'She is much too young.'

*So you have already said,' his grandmother reminded him tardy. *But Miss Kennedy is a very intelligent and understanding young woman and we shall get along very well together.'

Once more that brief, sceptical look took stock of Charlotte's flushed face and evasively uncertain eyes, and he shrugged. *Let us hope that Lizette will feel as confident

as you are,' he said shortly, and gave his attention to the road ahead.

It was not altogether surprising to learn that he considered her too young for the post she had been given, or that he had said as much to his grandmother, but Charlotte took a poor view of his opinion. He obviously considered himself better qualified to judge too, so 'it was up to Charlotte to prove Madame Menais' judgment correct

The house emerged from its bodyguard of chestnuts as a chateau, tall 'and graceful and flaunting its slim spires against a spring-blue sky as the car drew up on a gravel forecourt before double doors. At closer quarters it was even more inapressive and again (Charlotte's pulse responded urgendy to the possibility of it having bosn her parents' home, and also of the possible pitfalls that the venture held. Without Madame Menais there to encourage her she doubted if she would have got as far as the doors; with her she approached them on legs that felt so shaky she wondered they could still support hei: up the steps.

Inside it was immediately obvious that things had changed dramatically since the chSteau had its heyday, for apart from a few paintings on the white walls and a patterned stone floor it looked stricdy functional. So much so that Charlotte's first impression was one of disappointment, for those soaring towers and spires had promised so much more.

Four doors opened off", left and right, and were presumably the offices that Madame Menais had menticmed, but then she noticed that ahead of them was a vaulted arch through which she could see another hall. In there the scene was much more as she had anticipated it, much more in keeping with that elegant exterior.

A high ceiling glowed with gilded curlicues and swept down in graceful curves to gleaming white walls hung with paintings that were illuminated each by its own overhead

light, and a wide and elegandy curved staircase led upwards, presumably to the family's living quarters. Everything here was more elaborate, more luxurious, like the thick rugs that were scattered across the stone floor and ornate sconces in gilded iroii that held tall white candles.

It was for this part of the house that Madame Menais made, ignoring the more clinical entrance hall, with Charlotte following close behind and unaware as yet that Raoul Menais was no longer with them. Madame Menais was leading her in the direction of a door to their right when another door opened and a woman came out.

Tall and spare and dressed in black, she came quickly towards the old lady with her hands clasped together in front of her, her rather severe face breaking into a smile when Madame Menais turned and saw her. She reached out to help with her topcoat, addressing her as she did so and before she had the opportunity to say anything herself.

'BonjouVy madame; avez-vous fait un bon voyage? Desirez-vous du cafe?*

Madame Menais sighed contentedly as she disposed of her coat, and nodded while she turned to face Charlotte. *The journey was not too tiresome, merci, Celine, although I fear I am growing too old to enjoy travel as much as I once did. And we would all like some coffee, s'il vous plait; that we had on the aircraft was terrible ! This is Miss Kennedy who is to work for Madame Lizette,' she added, *but she wiU have coffee first. Miss Kennedy, this is Celine Bouchet without whom none of us could survive beyond a day!' She smiled at her own exaggeration, then rubbed her hands together. *We would be grateful for that coffee as soon as you can make it, Celine, oui?'

'Mais oui, madame, tout de suite!'

She hurried back the way she had come and Madame Menaise shook her head after a moment and heaved her slight shoulders resignedly. *I really believe we should all

cease to exist without Celine,* she said as she opened a door. *She has been with us for so long, I think,' she added, walking into the room with Charlotte behind her, *that it would be better if you had coffee before you meet Madame Lizette.'

*Thank you, madame.*

Tlease sit down. Miss Kennedy; Raoul, I am sure, will join us in just a moment, but we shall not wait if he is too long.* Charlotte was aware, as she took possession of a high-backed and surprisingly comfortable chair, of the old lady's bright watching eyes on her. *And please try not to appear so nervous at the mention of my grandson,* she added. 'He is not nearly so formidable as you seem to think!*

Charlotte smiled a little warily. Not for anything would she admit that she found Raoul Menais formidable, although that was precisely as he struck her. He was not a bit like the man she had conjured up in her mind so often during the past year. She had visualised someone entirely different whenever she looked at the dainty baby-sized bracelet which at the moment was safely wrapped in tissue and tucked away in her handbag.

I'm not nervous of anyone, madame,'' she insisted. 'Although everything is rather strange at the moment.*

*But of course!' The old lady regarded her for a moment, then shook her head and laughed. 1 am sorryv to study you so closely, mademoiselle^ but I cannot help but think we

have met somewhere before; there is a look about you *

A thin hand waved vaguely for a moment, seeking enlightenment, and Charlotte experienced a momentary flutter of anticipation. *Is it possible, do you suppose?*

It was imlikely, Charlotte knew, but die fact that Madame Menais found something familiar about her was strangely exciting. Her impulsive nature wanted her to come straight out with it and tell the old lady why she was

there and what she suspected was the truth about her origin. But it was too soon, much too soon, and common sense prevailed when she shook her head.

'I'm sure we haven't, madame,^ she said with a smile. *rd have remembered if I'd met you before.'

BOOK: Lost heritage
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