The Eden Inheritance Read online

  Now, for the first time, Charles found himself wondering if he had been quite fair to her. It wasn’t her fault she was not Regine. Perhaps when he had married her he should have made some effort to put his mistress out of his mind instead of continually hankering after her and drawing comparisons. But he hadn’t. He had been so sure that Kathryn would still be there at his feet grovelling for his affection, grateful for the crumbs he might throw to her, he simply had not envisaged a time when the tables might be turned.

  Well, they were turned now, all right – and Charles had discovered he did not like it one bit. Bad enough that the wife he had looked upon as his personal property should have sought solace with another man. But what he had just learned inadvertently from Celestine made it a thousand times worse. The man was not only a threat to his marriage but also a British agent who could bring disaster to them all. He had made a fool of Charles twice over. How dare he! How bloody dare he!

  Charles straightened, his blood boiling with fury, wondering what to do. He could, he supposed, pursue his previous plan to have him thrown out of the château on the grounds of his incompetence. He could go to his father and denounce him as an agent. But it was always possible that Guillaume would take Paul’s part – his fondness for collaboration seemed to have waned since Celestine had returned and told her story – and if there was a showdown there was always the chance that the truth about Paul’s relationship with Kathryn might come out. And besides, simply getting rid of Paul Curtis was no longer enough for him. His desire for revenge was too strong.

  No, there would be a better way if only he gave himself the time and space to plan for it.

  Charles rose, his face a mask of hatred. His time would come and he would make Paul Curtis wish he had never set eyes on any of the de Savignys. All he had to do was to be patient for a little while and continue to play the part he had been playing now for so long that it had become second nature.

  It was mid-afternoon when Paul returned. Christian saw him coming up the drive and managed to be outside by the time he reached the château.

  ‘I must talk to you. Go round to the stable block – there won’t be anyone there at this time of day. I’ll join you in a minute.’

  Paul’s eyes narrowed but he knew better than to pursue the conversation here in full view of the house. He did as Christian suggested, putting his bicycle away and waiting in the cool interior of the stables. Outside the paved yard glared white, reflecting the hot sunshine, and he mopped his face and neck with his handkerchief as he waited. He wished he had not had to go out today – he hoped no one had wondered about his absence – but there had been urgent arrangements he had to put in hand. The message had come through that London were going to send in a consignment of arms and ammunition that he had asked for, and looking at the clear sky Paul had known it could be very soon. It had been imperative he prepare the reception party and Pierre, the boy Paul had been using as a messenger, had needed to be alerted. But Pierre had been in the next village, visiting his girlfriend, and his parents had insisted Paul share their midday meal of bread and cheese whilst he waited, so that the whole exercise had taken a great deal longer than he had intended.

  At last Christian rounded the corner of the château. His serious expression alarmed Paul further.

  ‘Has something happened?’ he asked.

  ‘Von Rheinhardt has been here,’ Christian said bluntly. ‘He spoke to Papa and Charles. It seems they have picked up radio transmissions and they are going all out to trace them.’

  Paul swore.

  ‘It was bound to happen sooner or later, I suppose. They’re getting very sharp about that kind of thing. But I could have done without it just now, when we are expecting an arms drop. I must get a message to my pianist and warn him to be extra careful and keep on the move. Is there any chance you could do that for me, Christian? I’ve already been out and about today more than seems feasible.’

  Christian nodded. ‘What do I do – just leave a message in the letterbox?’

  Paul thought for a moment. He had told Pierre to check the letterboxes twice daily now that the arms drop was imminent – a message placed there now should be picked up this evening and was probably safer than Christian having to seek out a member of the cell on a Sunday afternoon when the de Savignys enjoyed a day of relaxation and would not normally be expected to be out visiting villagers.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Use the one closest to the château.’

  ‘Leave it to me.’ Christian rubbed his jaw with his fingers. ‘ I have a horrible feeling, Paul, that things are going to get pretty hot round here.’

  ‘I agree. I’m especially concerned about Kathryn and Celestine if the dung hits the fan, Kathryn being English and Celestine carrying a Jewish baby. I’d like to get them away, but obviously Celestine isn’t strong enough to make it down the line and Kathryn won’t leave without her.’ He paused, a sudden thought striking him. ‘Perhaps I could get them out by Lysander. The plane bringing the arms and ammunition will be landing in the field just up the valley. He could take them back with him – if they’d go.’

  ‘I think Celestine would,’ Christian said eagerly. ‘ She’s terrified for her baby. I’m not so sure about Kathryn.’

  ‘She should think of Guy,’ Paul said harshly. ‘If the Communists do as they are threatening and murder Heydrich I wouldn’t like to answer for what might happen.’

  ‘Is there any news on that front?’

  ‘Heydrich hasn’t put in an appearance yet. He’s been busy in Paris, from what I can make out. But when he does come I’m very afraid they are going to do what they are threatening. They’re a lot of madmen.’

  ‘Damn Communists!’ Christian took out a packet of Gauloises, offered one to Paul, and lit them both. ‘I wonder if it would help if I talked to Kathryn?’

  ‘It’s worth a try.’ Paul’s face set. He had had so little time alone with Kathryn since his return. She seemed to be avoiding him. ‘Persuade her that Guy could be in very real danger – and also tell her that Celestine would need someone to look after her. It might just work.’

  ‘I’ll do that. I’d better go now. We don’t want to be seen together.’

  Paul nodded.

  ‘You’re right. But you’ll leave the message in the letterbox?’

  ‘Yes. And I’ll talk to Kathryn and Celestine.’

  Paul laid a hand on Christian’s arm.

  ‘You’re a good man.’

  ‘I have to do something to make up for the rest of my family,’ Christian said wryly.

  Christian was not the only person from the château to take a walk that afternoon.

  Charles was still seething with anger over the morning’s revelations, and leaving the château slumbering in the heat of the early summer afternoon he walked across the fields and up the rise to a spot that had been a haunt of his since childhood days. There, in the shade of a clump of trees, he had taken his schoolbooks to study in perfect undisturbed peace. Later he had gone there with his first girlfriend, a second cousin named Isabelle who had come to stay in the summer when he was sixteen. He had snatched his first kiss there, explored for the first time the soft exciting curves of a female body, lain in the sun with his shirt open to the waist, glorying in the warmth on his skin and drunk on the fresh sweet smell of the grass and the nearness of Isabelle. From this vantage point the château and its grounds were spread out in a panorama beneath him, de Savigny land as far as the eye could see, and he had thought: One day this will be mine. The knowledge had touched a nerve of anticipation within him, filling him with pride and a sense of awe. The past and the future had seemed very close, as if he could reach out and encompass both, the unchanging heritage of generations. Savigny, beautiful Savigny, home of his forefathers, which would one day be the home of his children and their children; Savigny, an obligation, his birthright, a sacred trust.

  This afternoon, however, as he climbed the ridge, his anger began to turn in on itself, filling him with despair and sel
f-loathing. He was a failure, an utter failure. His father was right to despise him. And not only his father. They all despised him – Kathryn, Christian, perhaps even Celestine. They had all known what he had not – the truth about Paul Curtis. Perhaps they also knew about Kathryn’s affair with the damned man and were laughing at him behind his back. The thought made the sweat break out on his forehead and sent a rush of hot shame through him.

  Long before he reached his favourite spot his legs were aching but he drove himself on, refusing to slow his pace, until he reached the clump of trees. Then he stopped, breath coming hard, stretching his neck back to relieve the ache of tension in his shoulders. The trunk of one of the trees lay where it had fallen many years earlier; Charles perched himself on a flat ledge of it, resting his back against the gnarled old wood.

  In the quietude he could hear the sounds of nature, the crickets, the bees, the flies swarming beneath the overhanging branches. It took more than a German invasion to stop them going about their business, he thought, a tired smile playing about his mouth. No matter what happened the world of nature went on renewing itself. But would his children be there to see it? Supposing when all this was over Kathryn should leave him for Paul Curtis and take Guy with her?

  He would fight her, of course, with all the resources available to him. Guy was a de Savigny, nothing could change that. But in this uncertain world, who knew what the outcome would be? Nothing was as it should be any more; Charles felt as if he had somehow stumbled into a mire of quicksand and he did not know which way to turn to stop himself from sinking.

  For a long while he sat staring down into the valley. Then a movement on the drive to the château caught his eye. A figure on a bicycle – Paul Curtis returning from wherever he had been. A rush of anger made the brightness of the afternoon turn black before his eyes. The bastard! He’d like to throtde him with his bare hands. Curtis disappeared and still Charles sat, unwilling to go back, wanting to be alone a little longer before he had to resume the faÁade that was his armour.

  He was still there when he saw a figure he recognised as Christian emerge, walking down the drive. Another wave of resentment overcame him. Christian too was deceiving him and their father. Everywhere he looked, it seemed, those familiar to him were displaying a secret side to their natures.

  Christian was walking purposefully – nothing so strange in that, Christian never ambled when he took a walk, always striding out energetically. But with his heightened sense of persecution Charles found himself watching his brother’s progress with suspicion. Where was he going? Charles shaded his eyes against the sun, watching. For a few minutes Christian disappeared out of sight beneath a knoll in the rising ground and when he reappeared he was almost at the lane that bounded the edge of the parkland. There he stopped, crouching down beside the low stone wall. Charles strained his eyes. What the hell was he doing? Tying a shoelace, perhaps? But no, he appeared to be doing something to the wall itself.

  After a moment he straightened up and continued down the lane, and though he still walked fast it seemed to Charles that there was a subtle difference in his demeanour. He puzzled over it and when his brother was out of sight, walking in the direction of the village, he got up from his seat on the fallen tree and made his way diagonally down the grassy slope towards the spot where he had seen Christian fiddling with the wall.

  A slight sheen of perspiration had begun to bead Charles’forehead. He took out a handkerchief to mop his face and found his hand was trembling slightly, though for the life of him he could not understand the reason. Some sixth sense was stirring like a jagged nerve deep within him.

  At first sight there was nothing remarkable about the wall, no obvious reason for Christian’s interest in it. Looking around to make certain there was no one about, Charles crouched down to examine it. The stones were old, creeper and tiny weeds grew between them. But one, Charles noticed, looked slightly different The plants had been disturbed, dry crumbling plaster was exposed. He ran his fingers around it and with a jolt of excitement found that it was loose.

  Crouching lower he eased it out. There in the hollow was a small packet. A postbox! Charles thought The fools were using this place, right on the edge of the grounds, to pass messages! He unwrapped the package, his fingers clumsy with eagerness.

  ‘The note was not even coded. Perhaps whoever it was meant for was not clever enough to decipher codes.

  ‘Warn the pianist only transmit in emergency. Detector vans active.’

  Well, at least they had the wit to be cautious. Perhaps it would curtail their activities if they knew that the Germans were on to them. Carefully he replaced the note and pushed the stone back into place. This time he’d leave it so that it would be found by whoever it was intended for. He did not want Christian to know he had discovered his secret. But Charles’ mind was made up. He would keep an eye on the letterbox. That way he would stay ahead in the game.

  Kathryn heard Paul come upstairs and hurried along the corridor to his room.

  ‘Paul – thank goodness you’re back! I was so worried about you! Von Rheinhardt has been here and …’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Christian told me. Everything is under control, don’t worry.’

  ‘Don’t worry! It’s easy to say that! I was frantic!’

  He held out his hand to her.

  ‘Come here.’

  She hung back, looking over her shoulder nervously though she knew Charles had gone out.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘ You’ve been avoiding me’

  ‘Charles knows,’ she said softly, urgently. ‘He couldn’t have been as fast asleep as I thought he was when I came to your room.He has already tried to get you thrown out of the château. I was afraid if I did anything else to upset him he would try again and succeed.’

  Paul snorted; his opinion of Charles was very low.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. To be honest I think I should leave anyway. There are far too many of us under one roof here.’

  ‘Oh Paul, no! Please don’t go …’

  ‘I want to talk to you, Kathryn. But first do as I say and come here. It’s been far too long since I kissed you.’

  She glanced over her shoulder again, then her longing for him overcame her fear. She pushed the door closed behind her and went to him. He held her, pressing her to him, running his hands lightly over her back and legs as if rediscovering every line. She buried her face in his shoulder, then turned her head so that her lips tasted his throat. They kissed, deeply, urgently, but the tension was still tingling in her, marring the sweetness of the moment

  ‘Kathryn, listen.’ He held her away slightly so that he could look at her. ‘ I’m expecting a Lysander very soon with an arms drop.I could arrange for it to take you, Guy and Celestine out. Don’t. answer too quickly. I know you said before you wouldn’t go, but I really think you should consider it, for Guy’s sake, if nothing else. And it would ensure Celestine’s safety too – no struggling down a difficult escape route. But she’d need you, Kathryn, pregnant in a strange country.’

  She hesitated.

  ‘You don’t think the Boche would turn on the rest of the family if we suddenly disappeared?’

  ‘I don’t know. They’d have to pretend you’d gone to stay with relatives or something. I’ve already discussed it with Christian and he agrees with me. Guy must be your first priority now – and Celestine’s baby. If the others care anything for either of you they’ll understand that.’

  ‘Yes, I think Guillaume and Louise would. I’m not so sure about Charles, but …’ She broke off, unable to bring herself to say what was in her heart – that she no longer cared what Charles thought, though she did still care what happened to him. For a few moments she was silent, deep in thought, then she nodded. ‘All right.’

  He looked at her, startled. He had expected her to argue again. She laughed shortly.

  ‘Don’t look like that. I thought you wanted me to go back to England.’

  ‘And I tho
ught you would almost certainly refuse to go. What brought about this change of heart?’

  She shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know – I’ve had time to think about it, I suppose.’ It was not the whole truth but there were some things she was not yet ready to share with anyone – even Paul. ‘ Suppose someone should hear the plane?’ she went on swiftly. ‘Mightn’t they be suspicious?’

  ‘That’s a chance we have to take.’

  ‘Supposing they connect it with you?’

  ‘As I’ve already said, I think it’s time for Paul Curtis to make his exit. You taking Guy away will give me the perfect excuse. I’ll hardly be needed any longer as his tutor if he’s not here, and I’m sure Guillaume can convince the authorities, if needs be, that he thought I was genuine.’

  ‘Do you know yet when it will be?’

  ‘Not precisely, but it will be soon. Warn Celestine and have a bag packed and ready. I’ll give you as much notice as I can but it may be only a few hours.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘I love you,’ he said ‘When this is all over we’ll be together, I promise.’

  ‘Oh I do hope so!’ she whispered. ‘I love you too, Paul.’

  She was beginning to ache now with need of him but she knew that for the moment it could not be. Their time would come, if the gods were on their side. He held her for a few moments longer, gently massaging the knots of tension in the slope of her shoulders, kissed her again, and put her away gently but firmly.