Виктория Холт - Daughter of Deceit

I told him that Marie-Christine and I would be leaving. La Maison Grise was passing into the hands of Robert’s cousin and Robert had left my old home in London to me.

“Who would have thought things would have turned out like this?” said Lars. “Gerard … dear old Gerard … I was fond of him, you know.”

He shook his head sadly. I fancied he might be feeling a little guilt and remorse, remembering perhaps that once he had intended to take Gerard’s wife to live with him.

Marie-Christine and I sadly watched him drive away.

It was a few days later when the cousin came to La Maison Grise. He was very pleasant and delighted with the house, which he had never thought would come to him.

I explained that we were preparing to leave for London, which we should do very soon, to which he replied graciously that we must not feel we had to hurry.

He stayed a night, and when he had gone, I said to Marie-Christine: “It has been decided for us. I wonder what you will think of London.”

“I shall like it if we are together,” said Marie-Christine. “And it will be different, won’t it?”

“Different, yes.”

I was thinking of the people at home … the house of memories. My mother’s room … I could see her clearly … reclining in her bed, her beautiful hair spread out on her pillow; ranting against Dolly … and most of all, I could not forget the nightmare of seeing her lying dead on the floor.

The French episode was over. I could ask myself: If Gerard had lived, should I have married him? Should I have been able to build a new life … a life when memories might have ceased to fill me with regrets?

I should never know.

We settled into the house. The Crimps had welcomed us warmly. They were obviously delighted, not only that we were there but because the house was now mine.

Mrs. Crimp did say to me some days after our return that this was how it should be. That Monsewer Robber had been a nice enough gentleman, but it was a funny sort of setup, if you asked her. And now it was all back where it belonged. “With you, Miss Noelle,” she added with satisfaction.

Mrs. Crimp was eager to explain everything. There were only two maids, Jane and Carrie. That was all they’d needed, with them being sort of caretakers, and the house not used as a residence.

“You might want to change, Miss Noelle.”

I said I would see.

“And that Miss du Carron. I suppose she’s a mademoiselle. Will she be staying here?”

“Yes. It will be her home as well as mine. She lost all her family. She is Monsieur Robert’s great-niece. He, her father and her grandmother were all blown up when the Germans shelled Paris. They were in a house there when the Germans were trying to take the city. A shell demolished the house and everyone in it.”

“Wicked beggars … and that poor mite.”

“We have to help her, Mrs. Crimp. She’s suffered a terrible loss.”

Mrs. Crimp nodded, and I knew she would be especially kind to Marie-Christine.

Marie-Christine herself seemed to be recovering from the shock of her loss. It had been good to come to an entirely new environment. She was interested in London. I took her round. We walked in the parks; we visited the Tower of London; we looked at historic buildings and the theatres where my mother had worked. She was enchanted by it all.

We had not been there long when Dolly called.

“I heard you were back in London,” he said. “It’s good to see you.” He looked at me searchingly. “How are you, my dear?”

“I’m all right, Dolly, thanks.”

“I heard about Robert. Tragedy, that stupid war. And you’ve brought his niece back with you.”

“His great-niece. She has lost her family … her father, grandmother and Robert. It is dreadful, Dolly.”

“I see that. And she likes to be with you. It is good for her that you are here.”

“And for me, too, Dolly.”

“Yes.”

“Do you hear anything of Lisa Fennell?” I asked.

“Oh, that girl. She had an accident. Turned out worse than we thought. She married … married Charlie’s son, as a matter of fact.”

“Yes. She wrote and told me.”

“Charlie hardly ever comes to London now. I haven’t seen him for ages.”

Marie-Christine came in and I introduced her.

“I knew your uncle well,” Dolly said. “You’ll have to come and see one of my shows.”

Marie-Christine looked pleased at the prospect.

“Lucky Lucy,” he went on. “It’s playing to packed houses … so far. Lottie Langdon’s good.”

“She’s Lucky Lucy, of course?” I said.

“Of course. You must come. I’ll see you get the best seats. I am glad you are back in London, Noelle.”

It was right to have come. Marie-Christine was recovering from the shock, and I think she was able to do that better here away from the scene of disaster. She was young and resilient, and had never been especially close to her family. I think I had begun to mean more to her than any of them, even before the tragedy.

She was maturing quickly. I supposed it was inevitable that such dramatic events would have that effect.

I was delighted to see how much she enjoyed Lucky Lucy. Dolly came round to see us in the interval, and afterwards took us backstage. Marie-Christine was introduced to Lottie Langdon in all her finery. Flushed and triumphant from the acclaim of a delighted audience, Lottie was very gracious to Marie-Christine, and affectionate towards me.

Marie-Christine was in good spirits, but for me the evening had been too reminiscent of the past. I could not sleep that night. On a sudden impulse, I had a desire to be in my mother’s room. I wanted to be there, as I had on those mornings when she had slept late and I had crept into her bed to talk.

I went down to her room. I lay on the bed and I thought of her.

There was a full moon that night, and it set a silvery glow over everything. I felt that she was near me.

I don’t know how long I lay there, lost in memory.

Then suddenly I was startled, for the door was slowly opening.

Marie-Christine had come into the room.

“Noelle,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“It was going to the theatre,” she said. “It reminded you.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“It must have been a wonderful life.”

“It was.”

“And she was as beautiful as Lottie?”

“Much more beautiful.”

“We both had beautiful mothers.”

I said: “Marie-Christine, what are you doing out of bed at this time?”

“I heard you leave your room. I peeped out and watched you. I wasn’t going to do anything about it, but you stayed so long, and I thought I had better go and see.”

“You are looking after me, Marie-Christine.”

“We are going to look after each other, aren’t we?”

“Yes. For as long as is necessary.”

She came to the bed and lay there beside me.

“I thought you were going to marry my father,” she said. “I should have liked that. It would have made you my stepmother.”

“I couldn’t feel closer to you if you were my stepdaughter.”

“I think it would have been very good for you. You liked him very much, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So if he hadn’t died …”

“I am not sure.”

“But if he asked you …”

“He did. I told him I couldn’t just then. I wanted time to think.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Was there someone else you loved?”

“Yes, there was.”

“And he didn’t love you?”

“Yes, he did. But we found we were brother and sister.”

“How?”

“It’s too complicated to tell quickly. We met and fell in love, and then we learned of our relationship.”

“I can’t see how … and why you didn’t know.”

“I’d known his father for a long time. I thought he was one of my mother’s friends. She had a lot of friends. They had been lovers and I was born. He lived in the country with his wife and son. These things happen.”

“With people like your mother, I suppose.”

“She didn’t live according to the laws laid down by society.”

“How dreadful for you!”

“If my mother hadn’t died, it would have been different. She would have seen what might happen and stopped it in time. But she died … and this happened.”

“No wonder you look sad sometimes.”

“I have been very unhappy. It is hard to forget, Marie-Christine.”

“If you had married my father, that would have been good for us all.”

“Perhaps. But we shall never know.”

“And now you have come back to the house where you lived with your mother. What happened to … your brother?”

“He is married now.”

“So he found consolation.”

“I hope so.”

“Noelle, you should find consolation. You could have done with my father. He was miserable about my mother. He was happier when you came. You could have helped each other.”

“It was not to be, Marie-Christine.”

“Well, we have to start from … now. We have come back to this house. It is our house … and it is the place where she lived. Everywhere you remember her. This room is just as it was when she was here. That should not be so, Noelle. It’s our house now … yours and mine. We’re going to live here. It’s going to be different from what it was before. There must be no going back to all these memories. We’re going to start on this room. I know this is what your mother would want.”