This book made available by the Internet Archive.
CHAPTER ONE
Charlotte had read and re-read the newspaper article, but no matter how many t imes she read it she remained firmly convinced that the man whose name she saw t here could very well be her father. Not the father she had known all her life, b ut the man who had been actually responsible for her existence. It was an exciti ng possibility and the more she thought about it the more excited she became. Mary and Charles Kennedy had never concealed from her the fact that she was an adopted child, but they had loved her deeply and she them. They had been already elderly when they adopted her, and three years ago Mary Kennedy had died, follo wed only two years later by her husband, and for the first time in her life Char lotte found herself with the need to find her own natural family.
On her twenty-first birthday, not long before he died, her adoptive father had given her a bracelet which he said they had received the day after her adoption became official. It came with no explanation or note and, unwilling to make wave s on the tranquil surface of their existence, they had said nothing, only waitin g for Charlotte to become twenty-one before they gave it to her.
It was a baby's bracelet made of gold and with her name, Charlotte, engraved on one side with the date of her birth, and on the reverse the names Elizabeth and Raoul Menais. Ever since, Charlotte had been convinced that they were the names of her true parents.
Now this newspaper item had aroused exciting hopes; if only it was possible to distinguish just one face dearly in the group of men photographed as they entere d a hotel in
London where they were gathered for a conference. They were described collectiv ely as a consortium of international businessmen and the names were Hsted in the caption, but none of them individually identified. There was no way she could d ecide which one of them was likely to be the man named as Raoul Menais, and desc
ribed as a French industrialist.
To Qiarlotte the name seemed to be printed in much blacker type than any of the others and she was fast becoming obsessed with the idea of trying to contact hi m. But it was unlikely, she guessed, that he would welcome the sudden appearance of a young woman claiming to be his daughter, even supposing she could gain acc ess to such an important man.
She had shrugged off the idea as hopeless at least a dozen times in half an hou r, and yet the temptation refused to be resisted. Charlotte was impulsive, her m other had always said so, and never more so than when her heart was set on somet hing as firmly as it was on seeing the man she was all but convinced was her rea l father.
Taking the initial step had been the hardest part, but from then on events seem ed to follow naturally and it was less than three hours after her first sight of the article that she arrived by taxi, almost sick with excitement and slightly dazed by her own temerity. A taxi was a luxury she could not very often afford, but it was the only way to arrive in this instance, she felt, and gave the drive r a large tip out of sheer bravado before turning to face the impressive glass d oors of one of the biggest and plushiest hotels in London.
She hesitated for a moment on the wide marble steps, conscious of being eyed by a doorman who she was convinced saw through her fa<?ade of cool confidence, eve n though he did hold open the door for her when she eventually gathered courage enough to go inside.
The foyer was enormous and struck her as chillingly
aloof even though it was teeming with people. Three lifts flicked their lighted numbers busily as guests came and went, and a curved staircase offered the alte rnative luxury of deep red carpet and gilded balustrades. The reception desk boa sted not one but three clerks who dealt with what was seemingly an endless flow of enquiries and callers, and as she walked across the impressive vastness of th e foyer Charlotte felt her courage fading.
How could she simply walk up and ask to see Monsieur Menais when her reason for seeing him was one she could impart only to the man himself? Her legs quaked im -steadily and she knew as she looked around her that she could not go through wi th it, she simply did not have the nerve. Disappointed and impatient with her ow n timidity, she was already turning to leave the hotel when one of the desk cler ks called out to someone apparendy in the act of walking away.
'Monsieur Menais! Excuse me, sir, there's a call for you!*
Charlotte swung back quickly, the breath caught in her throat, and as she did s o she almost collided with a nuin coming from the other direction. Desperate to see who it was being paged, she tried unsuccessfully to peer past him, and gaspe d indignandy when her arms were grasped by hard fingers that dug deep and hurt. Looking up to protest, she saw a strong dark face that frowned impatiendy at her , but she was more interested at the moment in who it was came to answer the des k-clerk's call.
In attempting to side step round him, she managed to block his attempt to do th e^same and he clicked his tongue in disgust, his frown deepening. The hands on h er arms gripped her firmly and she was thrust aside out of his path without more ado while he went hurrying off towards the reception desk, raising his voice as he went when the clerk once more put out his call.
* Yes, yes, I am here!'
Charlotte swung round and stared after him, too stunned for the moment to do mo re than follow the tall figure that went striding across the crowded foyer to th e desk. Then she swallowed hard on the realisation that she had actually been in contact with Monsieur Raoul Menais without knowing it. It was a dizzying moment but a disappointing one, for the brief encounter had been long enough to make h er certain that this Raoul Menais was not her father—he was far too young.
X The realisation was more bitter than she anticipated and Charlotte stared acr oss the busy foyer at his unheeding back while he stood at the desk, unable to t ake her eyes off him. He was tall, and from the glimpse she had had of his face
he was not good-looking as she had always hoped her father would be.
She had not noticed the colour of his eyes, but the frowning brows, she recalle d, were as black as his hair, and he was as lean and predatory-looking as a pant her. He was possibly about thirty-two or three years old and he could not be her father, so in the circumstances there was no reason for her to stay around any longer, and yet she turned away very reluctandy.
The doorman looked at her curiously when she emerged into the street once more, and she did not take a taxi this time but made for the nearest tube station. A cool spring wind caught her tawny hair as she ducked down into the underground, and she shivered slightly without actually feeling cold. Disappointment brought its own chill, and yet there was still a flutter of hope somewhere in her heart that refused to be stilled. She would, she promised herself as she boarded the t rain, make an effort to discover her true family, no matter what setbacks she en countered.
In fact the opportunity of contacting another member of the Menais family came her way much sooner than she
could have anticipated, and she could scarcely believe it when she saw an adver tisement only a couple of days later asking for an English-speaking secretary-co mpanion. Suitable applicants were to apply to Madame Menais, and the address giv en was the same hotel where Charlotte had made her abortive mission only two nig hts before.
A couple of years at secretarial school had equipped her with the first of the required skills, and for the second, she had helped care for her adoptive mother during her last painful years, so that she had all the requisite qualities, and the only question was whether or not someone applied who was even better qualif ied.
If she did get it, Charlotte recognised, she would have to tread very carefully , especially in the beginning, for no family was likely to take kindly to having an unexpected relation sprung on them without warning. She even mused on the fa ct that the names on the bracelet might not be those of her parents, but it was something she was too firmly convinced of to be doubted now, and when a telephon e call settled an appointment for her to see Madame Menais, she went with high h opes and only a small quiver of uncertainty.
Passing once more through the impressive glass doors she crossed her fingers, b ut in this instance she did not hesitate to enquire where she could find Madame Menais. She felt rather conspicuous in her plain navy dress and shoes among the hotePs very chic clientele, but rather more confident than she expected as she h urried across to one of the lifts. Although it would not help if she was late fo r her appointment.
The lift doors were already beginning to close after her when someone came stri ding across the foyer towards it and placed a large hand to prevent them closing completely. A tight smile briefly acknowledged her presence and it was only whe n the newcomer turned aside to operate the button
that Charlotte realised she was sharing the lift with Raoul Menais.
'Your floor, mademoiselleV A long forefinger hovered before the row of gold b uttons, but Charlotte was too startled for a moment to answer. Aware suddenly th at he was frowning as blackly as he had on their first encounter, she brought he rself swifdy back to earth. *I asked which floor you require, mademoiselle,^ h e informed her, and took a long searching look at her over his shoulder. 'The fifth, perhaps?'
Charlotte nodded, colour flooding into her face. *Yes, please, the fifth floor. '
He inclined his head in acknowledgement, then once more turned to start the lif t working. It moved upwards much more quickly than she espected, and Charlotte w as one of those people who used stairs from choice. The only reason she had used the alternative today was because a traffic hold-up had made her a httle late a nd she did not want to waste further time by climbing up five flights of stairs. The movement of the lift, however, had its usual effect and she felt the inevit
able queasiness in her stomach, knowing it showed on her face as it always did. Doing her best to conceal how she felt, she swallowed hard, but apparently her c ompanion had noticed something amiss and he was, almost invitably she feared, fr owning.
*Are you unwell, mademoiselleV he asked, although Charlotte suspected his con cern was more for the incon-vience it would cause him than from pity for her. 'Y ou look pale, I hope you are not going to be ill.'
'I won't be,' Charlotte assured him, shakily reproachful as she pressed an unst eady hand to the quivering wooden wall beside her. 'It's the lift; I'll be all r ight once it stops.'
'You would have been wiser to have taken the stairway, surely,' he suggested, a nd Charlotte gave him a sickly smile.
*rm sure I would,' she agreed faindy, *but Fm just a litde late for an appointm ent and I thought the lift would save time.'
He made no reply, but he was obviously not impressed, and in view of the coming interview Charlotte wondered if she would have been wiser to have taken the sta irs rather" than suffer the inevitable queasiness. She attempted to take her min d off her discomfort by noting that his eyes were deep, dark grey and set betwee n thick black lashes, an intriguing combination. It was not a sympathetic face, though, and she admitted to herself that she was relieved, on that point at kast , that he was not her father.
The Uft slid to a halt, causing her another moment of nausea, then the doors mo ved apart smoothly and silendy revealing a vast expanse of red carpet and a tall mirror placed direcdy opposite to the lift. It was startling for a moment to se e her own small figure reflected side by side with the man beside her, and for j ust a second their eyes met via the mirror.
Then a large hand invited her with rather more impatience than gallantry to pre cede him out of the lift and she stepped forward hastily, only to hesitate while she determined which way she should turn. It had not struck her until this mome nt that possibly she was there to see this man's wife,, and the prospect was har dly reassuring.
*You are looking for Room 524, mademoiselle^
The question brought her swifdy back to earth and Charlotte glanced up at him. *rm looking for. Madame Menais,' she said. *She's in Room 524, isn't she?'
Once more that imperious hand directed her and she followed obediendy, aware as she did so that he was coa-templating her slim figure in the plain navy dress. *You are here to be interviewed for the post of secretary?' he enquired, and somehow managed to inject a certain derision into the question that jarred. *Does it show?' Charlotte laughed shortly, and looked at him from the comers of her eyes. Tm nervous, I suppose it's pretty obvious!'
'I am aware that Madame Menais is interviewing yoimg women for such a post this morning,' he told her, *and your appearance would suggest that you are an appli cant, mademoiselle. Businesslike and rather severe.'
Her appearance! Charlotte cringed inwardly, feeling herself put firmly in her p lace as they came to a halt outside one of the rooms. She stood by while he unlo cked the door, but having let himself in he turned and regarded her curiously, t hen flicked his gaze upwards to the gilt figures fastened to the white-painted d oor panel.
*Room number 524 is the next one along, mademoiselle,* the cool voice informed her. *I think you will find your way easily enough now.'
Her face flushed, Charlotte looked up at the number of his room. Large and plai nly visible were the figures 522,
and she sighed inwardly in resignation. *I thought '
she began, but stopped when he shook his head as he took the key out of the loc k and stood twisting it round in one hand.
'Incorrectly, it is evident, mademoisslley he observed coolly.
'I'm sorry,' Charlotte said, turning swiftly away, *I didn't realise. I just as sumed '
She heard the soft click of the door closing as she turned and thought it was d oubtful if he even heard her apology. From her experience of the Menais family s o far, she could <Mily hope that the female of the species would prove less disc ouraging than the male. If Madame Menais, whatever relation she proved to be, tu rned out to be as arrogant and insensitive as that man, Charlotte would have to think very seriously about whether or not it was worth tracing her origins by th is particular method.
Her footsteps deadened by the thick carpet, she walked along to the next room a nd stood for a full minute with her hand raised before she knocked. A faint voic e bade her enter amost immediately, and she did as she was bid, walking in on le gs that trembled alarmingly and trying desperately to moisten her suddenly dry l ips.
The room was large and airy, but had the impersonal luxury of expensive hotels. The most personal thing about it that Charlotte noted was a lingeringly sweet s cent that she inhaled appreciatively as she sought the owner of the voice, and a n open paperback novel left carelessly on an overstuffed velvet settee.
The only occupant was an elderly woman who stood by the window gazing down into the street, a stance she abandoned as Charlotte walked in. *Ah!' The small soft sound would seem to imply satisfaction and they took stock of one another quite openly for a moment, then the older woman came forward, smiling and holding out a hand. *You are Miss Kennedy, are you not?'
*Yes, that's right.' So far Charlotte was reassured, for the smile was as kindl y as the barely accented voice.
Tlease sit down. Miss Kennedy, although the chairs are not very comfortable, I am afraid.' Bright eyes twinkled at her in friendly confidence. *0r perhaps it i s old age that makes it difficult for me to setde comfortably anywhere but in my own home.'
She was tall and slim with neat grey hair and grey eyes that were remarkably br ight and alert for her years, and she was very unlikely to be the wife of the ma n in Room 522. She was sympathetic too, and obviously seeking to put her at her ease. 'You are our youngest applicant. Miss Kennedy, but I think our most suitab le one judging from the information you gave on the telephone.' Bright alert eye s studied her quite frankly for a moment, taking note of large blue eyes and a s mooth complexion; a mouth that had
a certain tremulous appeal at moments when she felt vulnerable, as now, and thi ck tawny lashes. 'But the work could prove to be—trying at times. Do you feel able to cope?*
Tm sure I could,' Charlotte said firmly, and Madame Menals smiled approval. *I am accustomed to making swift decisions. Miss Kennedy. For many years I assi sted my husband in his business and I was seldom at fault in my judgment, theref ore I am making a decision now. There are only four days until we return to Fran ce—can you leave with us then?'
It was too startlingly sudden to answer without hesitation, but a glimpse of im patience in the old lady's grey eyes reminded her of the man in Room 522 and she spoke up quickly. *Yes, madamey I can!' She took a deep breath, trying to com e to terms with the fact that not only had she got herself a new job but that it involved travelling to France and getting much closer to her basic roots, unles s she was very mistaken. Til enjoy working for you, Madame Menais,' she said wit h a smile that gave brilliance to her blue eyes. *Thank you.'
There was a mistake, it was obvious from the way Madame Menais was looking at h er, and she felt momentarily uneasy. *Oh, but you will not be working for me per sonally, child,' the old lady told her quiedy. *I am acting on behalf of another member of my family. My nephew's wife is often unwell and is in need of a compa nion to care for her, as well as a secretary to deal with her correspondence.' *0h, I see, I didn't quite understand that.' It was disappointing to learn that she was not to be attached to this impressive but kindly woman after all, but C harlotte would not have relinquished the opportunity of joining the Menais famil y now for anything.
*You are not deterred?* Madame Menais asked, and Charlotte shook her head. ^No, madame, I'm not deterred.' Not even by the thought of the man in Room 52 2, Charlotte thought as she got to her feet, and saw that Madame Menais was smil ing approvingly.
It had been such a rush that Charlotte did not know how she had achieved as muc h as she had in the four days available to her. Friends had come to her aid, and the house she had lived in for most of her life was rented, so that there was n o problem of selling it. Her employer too was a very understanding man, and poss ibly suspected some deeper reason behind her sudden move than a desire to change jobs, though he gave no sign beyond an understanding nod and his consent to her immediate departure.
Madame Menais had told her they would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning and she gave herself plenty of time, having no hesitation this time about taking a taxi to the hotel. The desk clerk, she thought, looked at her rather strangel y in^ J^ first instance when she enquired for Madame Menais, then he shook his h ead slowly.
*I think you must have something wrong somewhere, miss,' he told her. *Monsieur and Madame Menais left nearly an hour ago for the airport. Their flight leaves at ten, so I understood.'
Charlotte checked her watch automatically then gazed at the man in blank despai r. It was obvious what she had done, of course. Madame Menais had not intended h er to believe that they were leaving the hotel at ten o'clock, but leaving for F rance, and she had stupidly not checked with her. Momentarily at a complete loss , she gazed helplessly at the man behind the desk.
*ril never make it,' she said with a quiver in her voice. *What can I do?' The clerk responded as he was bound to do when appealed to so direcdy by a very pretty girl, and he smiled encouragingly at her while he offered his help. *ril get you a taxi, miss, and you can take the next flight out.* He picked up the t elephone while he spoke and winked a reassuring eye as he dialled. 'You might ev en make the oat you're scheduled for if it's been delayed, it's only half an h our on a good run to the airport. Don't you worry, miss, we'll get you there.' It had to be some kind of miracle, Charlotte decided, that got her taxi through the traffic and to the airport so quickly, but even so she was too late for the flight she should have been on. Maybe, just maybe, Madame Menais had left her t icket with the reception desk and she could follow on another flight; but it was asking rather too much of a new employer, she reahsed, and she almost burst int o tears as she got out of the taxi and glanced at her watch.
It was nearly ten-twenty-five, and if her ticket had not been left for her she could say goodbye to not only a job she had been looking forward to, but also th e chance to unearth something about her background. The information desk was her immediate target and she had already turned in that direction when she spotted a face in the crowd that stopped her in her tracks.
Charlotte could never imagine herself pleased to see Raoul Menais's menacingly lean figure heading towards her, but for a second or two she actually welcomed t he sight of him. But he was frowning and it seemed so inevitable somehow that we lcome gave way to an inward sigl} of resignation. But for all that she spoke up quickly the moment he joined her.
I'm sorry about this, Monsieur Menais,' she said hastily, automaticaUy giving h im his name. I'm afraid I didn't quite understand '
'There is no time for explanations now!' he told her
brusquely, and took her suitcases from her forcibly, leaving her to scurry afte r him as he strode back through the crowded hall. Tortunately for you, mademois elle^' he told her in that brisk and completely impersonal voice, *our flight h as been delayed or you would have been left behind. Please hurry!'
, *I am hurrying.* She defended herself automatically, still trying to understa nd why he was there, obviously lo(^dng for her, when she would have expected com plete indifference to whether she came or not. Unless Madame Menais had sent him
; that, on reflection, seemed the most obvious answer, but she still made an eff ort to let him know how it had happened even though he had already denied the ne cessity. 1 didn't realise that Madame Menais referred to a ten o'clock flight, y ou see, I went to the hotel.'
She could hardly keep pace with him and her voice was Ught and breathless, but obviously he still wasn't interested in explanations, for he shrugged his broad shoulders impatiently. It is of no consequence to me, mademoiselle^ except that you hurry!'
Charlotte complied, too dazed to do anything else, while he saw her dirough the necessary preliminaries, and she found herself boarding the Paris-bound plane w ith a firm hand under her elbow that seemed to suggest she was under some kind o f restraint. Seconds later she was pushed without ceremony into a seat alongside a young man, and caught no more than a glimpse of Madame Menais's grey head fur ther alcmg towards the front of the plane.
The young man who shared her seat looked vaguely surprised for a moment and gla nced up at Raoul Menais. A few words in French apparendy gave him certain instru ctions and he nodded his head, a smile already in evidence. *Oui, monsieur^* he said with just enough deference to make his positicm clear, ^naturellement !' Charlotte watched her erstwhile escort go striding off
towards the front of the plane, then turned when she reahsed that the young man beside her was smiling enquiringly. *Good morning,' she said, and saw the brigh t gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.
*Ah, good morning, mademoiselle; I suspected that you might be EngHsh!'
From that brief exchange with Raoul Menais it was pretty clear that he also was an employee, and that she had been put in his charge during the flight. He help ed her with her seat belt without being asked, so evidently he meant to take his instruction hterally, but he was good-looking and so far quite charming, so Cha rlotte had no objection at all.
'You almost missed the flight, mademoiselle,'' he said as he sat back in his seat. Terhaps Monsieur Raoul had it delayed especially for your sake?'
Taking the suggestion purely at face value, Charlotte pulled a wry face. *A sch eduled flight?' she said, doubting if even Raoul Menais's powers extended that f ar. 'Hardly, I'm not that important—particularly not ia Monsieur Menais's opinion! '
*Then in the opinion of his grand'mere, perhaps?' he suggested, and so enable d Charlotte to fit another piece into place; Madame Menais was his grandmother. Offering him her hand, she introduced herself. 'I'm Charlotte Kennedy, a very n ew girl to the ranks,' she said.
Her hand was grasped and her fingers squeezed tightly for a moment, and release d only reluctandy. 'Jean Cordet,' he told her, 'and I too am a small cog in the wheel. Mademoiselle Kennedy—a what you call a P.R.O. with the Menais company and v ery unimportant.'
'Oh, Fm sure you're not unimportant if you've been brought along to this confer ence,' she said. 'It's a very important one, isn't it?' Anyone who had very much to do with Raoul Menais would be in need of an occasional morale-booster, she s uspected, unless she had misjudged
the man. 'How long have you been with the finn. Monsieur Cordet?' 'Several years now, almost five years.'
'You enjoy it?' she asked, then caught his eye and noticed the bright dark twin kle there.
'Never so much as at this moment, mademoiselley* he told her.^I am grateful t o Monsieur Raoul for making you my travelling companion. If you are to be an emp loyee perhaps we shall see much of one another; in whsit capacity are you to b e employed. Miss Kennedy? The publicity department, perhaps, that would be very gratifying!'
'I'm afraid not,' Charlotte denied, but she smiled when she said it, for being among the family was more important to her own interests than being just part of the general ofBce staff. 'I'm to be companion-secretary to another Madame Menai
s, so I've been told. I had thought perhaps it might be Monsieur Menais—that is Mo nsieur Raoul Menais's wife, but '
'But he has no wife, mademoiselle.^ Jean Cordet's eyes gleamed speculatively at her. 'Both of the other directeurs have wives, but only one of them, I think , will need the services of both a companion and a secretary. It will be Madame Lizette Menais for whom you are to work, Miss Kennedy, I have no doubt; the wife of Monsieur Michel.'
'Oh, I see.' Charlotte looked at him a little uncertainly, then laughed and sho ok her head. 'It all sounds a bit complicated at the moment, but I expect it's j ust me being slow to understand.'
'Oh no, I think not,' Jean Cordet denied gallandy, and smiled encouragingly. 'Y ou will find it less confusing when you know everyone, of course. The directeur s are known by their first names to avoid confusion, so that will help a little , eh?'
'Every little helps,' Charlotte agreed, and laughed uneasily when it occurred t o her that she might have got
herself into something rather more complicated than she thought.
Smiling and anxious to be of help, Jean Cordet turned in his seat. 'So,' he sai d. 'Monsieur Raoul, whom you have met, is known as le patron, which means the boss, eh?' Charlotte nodded, convinced it was a well-earned tide. 'Although it i s Monsieur Bernard, his father, who is head of the firm since the death of Monsi eur Hilaire; the third directeur is Monsieur Michel who is a kind of cousin, I believe. The ladies are Madame Menais, whom you have also met, Madame Marie who is the wife of Monsieur Bernard, and Madame Lizette who is the wife of Monsieur Michel.'
Charlotte glanced along to where the top of Raoul Menais's arrogant black head showed above the back of his seat. Nothing had been mentioned about another Raou l Menais, and for a moment she wondered if she might not have made all her effor t in vain. However, it was early days yet and she was always optimistic.
'And you think it most likely I'll be working for— Madame Lizette?' she asked, an d Jean Cordet nodded con-fidendy.
'I think it most likelyy mademoiselle.^
*Ah well,' she sighed, but foresaw more difficulties than she had anticipated, sorting out her own basic roots from the tangle she was presented with.
She was brought swifdy back to reality when light fingers reached over and clas ped her hand. 'But may we not talk of other things for the moment, Miss Kennedy? ' Jean Cordet suggested with a smile.
In fact the flight seemed far shorter than Charlotte expected, thanks to the in terest of her companion, and as the plane touched down she felt a flutter of exc itement once more at the prospect before her. On Jean Cordet's advice she made n o effort to leave her seat, but let the rest of the passengers go first, while h e pointed out aU the points of
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 hea rd 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 impatienc e.
^Mademoiselle,^ he informed her as she struggled to her feet, 'you will accomp any Madame Menais through the barriere, if you please, while I supervise the di sposal 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 stewardes s standing padendy at the top of the gangway. Jean Cordet had proved to be a ver y persuasive talker and she had become completely engrossed in what he was telli ng 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 na tural indignation in check as she made her way towards him along the narrow aisl e to where he stood in the doorway. She could not protest at this stage, not wit h 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 witho ut 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 Charlo tte 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, mad ame,^ 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 wa s 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 r ather 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 h erself, given the opportunity, and with the old lady as an ally there was less n eed to fear that black frown of Raoul Menais's. His grandmother knew how to hand le 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 t o be even more complicated than she had anticipated. Her first sight of the fami ly 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 obvi ously disliked, while Charlotte occupied the back seat with Madame Menais. Raoul , Charlotte suspected, would have preferred to do his own driving, but the car a nd 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 wi th 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 the y sped along a narrow road beside lush green meadows, and Charlotte eased forwar d in her seat for a better view.
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 g af)s in the foliage she caught glimpses
of turrets and steep sloping roofs, breathtaking glimpses that suggested someth ing much different from the small suburban house with its patch of garden that s he 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 an d 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, altho ugh we are all under one roof.'
'Oh, I see.'
Charlotte was not quite sure what she had expected would be the conditions unde r which she lived, but the prospect of living under the same roof as Raoul Menai s was faintly disturbing. It could, of course, prove to her advantage in the lon g 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 obvio us regret, 'not as you mean the word. Miss Kennedy. It is beautiful, but sadly i t is litde more than a block of appartements these days, and part of the groun d floor is used as offices by my son and the other directors. It is better perha ps than to sell it and have strangers move into it, but it is not what my dear H ilaire would have wished.'
From the way she looked at the averted head of her grandson it was clear at who se instigation the changes had been made and, as if he sensed the look, Raoul sp oke without turning his head. The fact that he said what he did in English inste ad of French was, Charlotte guessed, more to ensure that the chauffeur did not u nderstand what was said than out of courtesy to her.
*The English have a saying, Grand'mere,' he told her, and his deep voice soften ed 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 L es Chataignes.'
Leaning forward Madame Menais pressed her long slim fingers into his shoulder a nd smiled gendy at the lean arrogant profile he presented. *I am aware of it, m on cher^ she told him, *but I am too old to accept things as easily as you do. Y ou 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 hesita ted 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 shad ows. 'She is much too young.'
*So you have already said,' his grandmother reminded him tardy. *But Miss Kenne dy is a very intelligent and understanding young woman and we shall get along ve ry 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
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 bett er qualified to judge too, so 'it was up to Charlotte to prove Madame Menais' ju dgment correct
The house emerged from its bodyguard of chestnuts as a chateau, tall 'and grace ful and flaunting its slim spires against a spring-blue sky as the car drew up o n a gravel forecourt before double doors. At closer quarters it was even more in apressive and again (Charlotte's pulse responded urgendy to the possibility of i t having bosn her parents' home, and also of the possible pitfalls that the vent ure 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 th e 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 spire s had promised so much more.
Four doors opened off", left and right, and were presumably the offices that Ma dame 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 t o 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, li ke 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 cl inical entrance hall, with Charlotte following close behind and unaware as yet t hat Raoul Menais was no longer with them. Madame Menais was leading her in the d irection 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 int o a smile when Madame Menais turned and saw her. She reached out to help with he r topcoat, addressing her as she did so and before she had the opportunity to sa y 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. An d 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 add ed, *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 afte r a moment and heaved her slight shoulders resignedly. *I really believe we shou ld all
cease to exist without Celine,* she said as she opened a door. *She has been wi th us for so long, I think,' she added, walking into the room with Charlotte beh ind her, *that it would be better if you had coffee before you meet Madame Lizet te.'
*Thank you, madame.*
but we shall not wait if he is too long.* Charlotte was aware, as she took poss ession of a high-backed and surprisingly comfortable chair, of the old lady's br ight watching eyes on her. *And please try not to appear so nervous at the menti on of my grandson,* she added. 'He is not nearly so formidable as you seem to th ink!*
Charlotte smiled a little warily. Not for anything would she admit that she fou nd 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 ra ther strange at the moment.*
*But of course!' The old lady regarded her for a moment, then shook her head an d laughed. 1 am sorryv to study you so closely, mademoiselle^ but I cannot hel p 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 ex perienced a momentary flutter of anticipation. *Is it possible, do you suppose?* It was imlikely, Charlotte knew, but die fact that Madame Menais found somethin g 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 soo n, 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.'
For a moment longer the shrewd eyes seemed to examine her features closely, not ing every detail, then, as if still only half convinced, Madame Menais shook her head. *You are right, of course,' she conceded. 'It is unlikely that we have met before, and yet there is something about your face '
Once more she shook her head slowly, then shrugged as if to dismiss any lingeri ng doubt. 'You are right, mademoiselle^ of course; how would we have met?' Seeking another and safer subject, Charlotte looked around the big room with in terest. Ornate walls and ceiling were moulded and gilded in fantastic designs, a nd the floor under a scattering of rich pale tugs was of blocks of different woo ds set into a mosaic of colour and grain, gleaming richly in the sunlight from t hree tail slim windows at the far end of the room.
'This is a beautiful room,' she said, observing how each armchair had its own s mall table beside it, handy for coffee cups and ashtrays, a situation that was p robably taken for granted by the Menais. 'I've never seen anything quite so bre athtaking before, and I've certainly never dreamed of actually sitting in a ro om like this.'
She was aware as she spoke that Madame Menais was watching her and smiling, but the warmth of her smile did not for a moment suggest that she found her enthusi asm and her obvious impressibility in any way naive. Instead she nodded as if sh e understood her reaction perfectiy.
'It is a very beautiful room,' she agreed, and looked round it with obvious app reciation. 'And I find myself more and more pleased to return to it as the years go by. Les Chataignes is a very beautiful house and we are all
very privileged to live here still, although we do not always appreciate the fa ct, I am afraid.'
*It's always been in your—the Menais family?' Charlotte asked, and felt rather as if she was taking a first step on the road to discovery.
Madame Menais nodded, but she was immediately distracted by the arrival of Celi ne with their coffee. Charlotte noticed the way she glanced behind her at the do or just before she set down the tray and wondered if Raoul Menais was following her; his grandmother was expecting him to join them. Instead of Raoul Menais, ho wever, the figure that appeared in the doorway and hesitated for just a moment b
efore coming in was a woman.
*Tante Sophie!* Her voice was husky and she came across the room on high heels that had the effect of making her walk with a curiously mincing step, while the wide sleeves of her dress fluttered like the wings of a pale moth as she came. 'Comment vas-tu?'
Madame Menais lifted her face to be kissed on both cheeks, then looked across a t Charlotte with a half-smile that suggested things had not gone quite as she ha d planned them. *Lizette,' she said when the woman took the chair next to hers, *this is unexpected. I have brought Miss Kennedy to see you; Miss Charlotte Kenn edy. Mademoiselle, this is Madame Lizette Menais, in whose behalf I engaged you. *
For a moment die appearance of Lizette Menais came as a distinct shock to Charl otte. Her hair was still blonde, baby-fine and naturally blonde but streaked wit h grey and unkempt, and her face was thin and pinched. There was a look in her e yes that suggested she cried a great deal and the eyes themselves were such a fa ded blue that they had the clouded look of iced water, and her mouth was shiveri ngly unsteady. A fact she sought to conceal by nibbling desperately at her lower lip while she was introduced.
'Charlotte is my favourite name.' There was something infinitely touching about the confession that touched Charlotte's heart, while the pale eyes continued to study her. 'You are English?'
The voice was harsh, almost querulous, and Charlotte began to suspect that it w as not a physical illness that troubled Lizette Menais, yet still she felt curio usly drawn to her. But the reactions of someone in her state of health could be notoriously unpredictable and Charlotte guessed that if she put a foot wrong now, she could well find herself on the next plane back to London. She had com e too far now to let that happen and she trod carefully.
'Oh yes,' she agreed, determinedly bright. 'The advertisement asked for an Engl ish-speaking secretary-companion, Madame Menais, and I'm '
'Lizette!' the voice corrected her shrilly, and for a moment Charlotte blinked uncomprehendingly. *I am known as Madame Lizette, not Madame Menais, have you n ot been told that?'
'Oh yes, of course, madame, I'm sorry.' Charlotte apologised hastily, but fou nd herself far less resentful than she might have been, perhaps because Lizette Menais so obviously regretted her outburst. Gnawing at her lip she shook her hea d and kept her eyes downcast, watching the resdess hands in her lap. She was, Ch arlotte suspected, not only a sick woman but a very unhappy one too. 'I'll soon get used to the different names,' she told her confidendy, and immediately had Madame Menais's support.
'Yes, of course you will, child!' She turned her gende smile on the blonde woma n. 'I hope you have not been unwell again, ma chere. I expected that you would be resting before luncheon.'
'I was.' A hand brushed limp strands of hair back from her brow. 'But I heard y ou arrive and came downstairs. I was—anxious.' She made a gesture with the same ha nd
that seemed to apologise for the confession and Madame Menais reached over and gendy pressed soothing fingers over the restless ones.
'Naturally you were, ma chere, but you see what a delightful companion I have brought for you. One who will not only type your letters for you but also see t hat you take your tablets and rest when you should.'
*Merci, Xante Sophie.' She brushed back her hair with that same nervous gestur e and looked across at Charlotte. 'I'd like to call you Charlotte,' she said in a more steady voice. 'And I really am glad that you've come, please believe that .'
The appeal was irresistible and Charlotte impulsively dismissed any earlier dou bts without hesitation. Unhap-piness had touched her only twice in her young lif e. The first time when her mother died and again when her father died a year ago , but not even in the darkest moments of sadness had she felt the kind of despai
r that showed in this woman's eyes.
'I think you'll find me quite useful, madamey she said with an encouraging sm ile. 'I went to secretarial school and I've also held down a job since then; and when my mother was very ill I managed to take care of her too, with my father's help, of course.'
'You look very young.' For a moment the pale eyes showed a glimmer of warmth wh en she studied Qiarlotte's slighdy flushed face. 'And you're very pretty,' she a dded, as if that fact was much less in her favour.
'I'm twenty-two, Madame Lizette,' Charlotte told her, ignoring the doubtful com pliment.
'Are you?' For a moment the ravaged face took on a distant look and Madame Mena is leaned forward to press her resdess fingers once more.
'Shall we all have coffee together, Lizette? Will you stay and join us?'
Lizette raised her eyes and looked first at the old lady and then at the half-o pen door. *Is Raoul back too?' she asked, but seemed to know the answer before i t was given. *Yes, of course he is, you came together, didn't you?' She got to h er feet in a quick jerky movement, glancing round swifdy when Charlotte too got up. *l won't wait,' she said, *but you need not bother to come vmtil you've ha d your coffee. Miss Kennedy—Charlotte.'
Charlotte hesitated, glancing at the older woman for some indication of whether or not she should take Lizette at her word, but Madame Menais was shaking her h ead as she picked up the coffee pot, apparendy quite happy with the situation as it was. *Stay and have your coffee, child,' she told her. *Lizette will manage until you join her in a few moments, will you not, ma chereV
*Yes. Yes, of course I will.' Nervous hands stroked the limp, greying hair back from her brow once more. * Someone will show you the way when you're ready. Now , if
you'll excuse me, I'll leave you before ' She broke off
and glanced again at the half-open door, then shook her head. *ril see you late r, Charlotte.'
Charlotte watched her go walking across the room, unsteady on those dangerously high heels, and wondered if she should not have gone with her after all. But Ma dame Menais was already pouring coffee and she caught the look in her eyes and s miled. *Do not concern yourself,' she told her. *Lizette would prefer that you g o to her after you have had your coffee, and surely you are not so nervous of my grandson that you also wish to vanish before he arrives to join us, are you. Miss Kennedy?'
The implication was immistakable and Charlotte looked up curiously as she shook her head. 'No, of course not, madame,'' she denied.
Just the same she could not help wondering why it was
that Lizette Menais ^as so fearful of Raoul that she preferred to leave before he arrived.
After four days of working for Lizette Menais, Charlotte was still undecided wh ether or not she was going to find it a job she liked, although that, she told h erself once or twice during the four days, was not her prime reason for taking i t. It was difficult knowing just how she was going to start discovering anything about her own background without making enquiries, and in view of the situation that was difficult.
She had no way of knowing if her parents had even belonged to this particular b ranch of the Menais family, and if they did whether or not they had been married to one another. It was that aspect, more than any other, that made her so retic ent about probing. The Menais family were rich and proud and were not likely to like having family scandal revived, if that was the explanation.
The four days had passed quickly enough and she could hardly claim to be overwo rked or that Lizette Menais was a hard taskmaster. A few letters each day was us ually all that was required of her; mosdy to friends, but needing to be typewrit ten because Lizette's shaking hands found it difficult to write legibly for more than a few seconds.
She took an alarming number and variety of medicines, mosdy in the form of pill s, and it was up to Charlotte to see that she did not swallow more than the pres cribed dose or that she did not take too many glasses of her favourite wine afte r them. She read innumerable magazines, both French and English, and talked at l ength sometimes, although never yet about anything of consequence.
Despite the fact that she spoke English with a very slight French accent, Charl otte was almost certain she was of English origin, but her own French was so poo r that she was unqualified to judge just how good Lizette's was. She was a confu sed and a confusing woman, but regardless oi
everything, Charlotte liked her.
It was part of her job to fetch the mail each day from the hall downstairs, and on her fourth day there Charlotte made a determined effort to avoid seeing Mich el Menais. She disliked the fact that he just happened to be leaving the apartme nt when she came past each time and also the way his dark eyes scanned her sUm s hape as he walked too close beside her as they came downstairs. This morning she had seemingly managed to avoid him, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she ne ared the bottom of the stairs.
She did see someone else, however, and she smiled to herself when she thought s he recognised Jean Cordet, the young man who had made the flight from England so interesting for her. He was leaving one of the offices through in the outer hal l and pushing papers into a briefcase as he made for the front doors. ,
'Monsieur Cordet?' She called out quickly before he let himself out, and he tur ned at once, almost as if he had expected to see her. *Good morning!'
She had the awful feeling for a second that she might have called out to the wr ong man, but as soon as he turned and she recognised him more certainly, she too smiled beamingly. He was even better looking than she remembered from their fir st encounter, and he brushed a hand through his dark hair as he took her hand. H e did not shake it nor did he actually kiss her fingers, but he raised them half -way to his mouth and bowed his head slighdy in a token gesture.
*I am delighted. Mademoiselle Kennedy!' he said. 'How is the work with Madame L izette?'
Delighted to have seen him again, Charlotte laughed cheerfully. *Oh, I like it, and Madame, very much,' she told him. *The work's so easy and there's very litd e to do '
*Except perhaps to keep out of the way of Monsieur
Michel, eh?' he suggested with a broad wink, and Charlotte felt herself colour slighdy.
She had already guessed that Michel Menais would have a reputation among the wo men, but she was not prepared to admit that he had been making a point of seeing her each morning when she came down for the mail. I've had no trouble in that d irection so far,' she told him, but said nothing about how carefully she had avo ided him that morning. Glancing behind him at the door of the office he had just left, she smiled curiously. *Are you here on business, Monsieur Cordet?'
*Ostensibly I am here to see Monsieur Raoul,' he admitted with a smile, *but I was hopeful of seeing you again, mademoiselle^ and that is why I did not send m y junior. This is a happy coincidence!'
*It certainly is,' Charlotte told him happily. *I fetch Madame Lizette's letter s every morning, but I'm quite a bit later than usual. I must have known you'd b e coming!'
He took her hand once more and held it in his, his fingers toying with hers whi le he looked down into her eyes, his own gleaming unmistakably. *Would you have made the effort especially if you had known you were likely to meet me at this t ime?' he asked, and raised her fingers to his lips for a moment, brushing them w ith a light kiss. *I like to think of you doing so, ma belle mademoiselle^ *It's possible,' Charlotte allowed rather breathlessly. She was uneasily aware of the silent emptiness of the two halls, and of the blank faces of the office d oors that could at any moment open to admit one of the Menais to the hall, and s he eased her hand free as unobtrusively as possible. *I musm't be too long or Ma
dame Lizette will be waiting for her mail and I shan't even have collected it!' *Just a moment longer,' Jean begged, and looked so anxious about it that she ha dn't the heart to refuse. *You will have dinner with me this evening?'
It should not really have taken her by surprise, Charlotte thought, but all the same it had and she looked uncertain for a moment, glancing back up the stairs before she answered. *I don't know if that's possible. Monsieur Cordet.'
'There is a wonderful litde place that I have found,* he urged, his expressive dark eyes adding a plea of their own. *l know you will love it because it has l ots c^ atmosphere, hein? You will come?*
Charlotte hesitated still although she made no attempt to hide the fact that sh e wanted to accept. But she had been with Lizette Menais for only four days and so far the matter of free time had not been setded, although doubdess it would b e in time.
*rm not sure if I can get the evening off so soon,* she told him frankly, *much as Fd like to come. I'm sure you'll understand.*
*Oh, but surely,' he insisted, holding dghdy to her hand, •you have but to ask, ma chere mademoiselle ! *
*I suppose so.* She thought of dining and dancing in Paris and nodded firmly. ' I'll ask,' she said, *and see what Madame Lizette says.*
'Merveilleux!' He was boisterous in his victory and put his free arm about her , hugging her close for a moment while he kissed her mouth. *I will come for you at six, eh?* Charlotte nodded, somewhat dazedly and he smiled. *Au revoir, ma chere mademoiselle, until six! *
He was gone and Charlotte was already deciding what she would wear when she hea rd a door open, the same one that Jean Cordet had emerged from just a few moment s before. This time, however, she felt a faint sdrring of im-easiness when she r ecognised Raoul Menais, his lean length half-turned to close the door behind him , and the hand that held Lizette*s post trembled slighdy.
He turned and came striding across the hall towards
her, but more than likely making for one of the other offices, and he seemed to become aware of her when he was part way across the hall. He raised a hand that seemed to indicate she should wait there, so that she had little option but to do so instead of leaving as she would rather have done. It was disconcerting to notice at a time like this that he had the lean, rangy grace of an athlete as we ll as an arrogant air of authority, and that the combination of the two with his particular brand of craggy masculinity was quite staggeringly effective.
'Good morning, mademoiselle,'*
The greeting was cool and impersonal and somehow faintly irritating to Charlott e after her mental summary of his attributes, but she did her best to make her o wn greeting equally impersonal. *Good morning. Monsieur Raoul.'
He looked impeccably businesslike in a dark grey suit and tie and a cream shirt , and she fully expected him to simply walk on into whichever of the offices he was making for. The fact that he did not was vaguely disconcerting, and there wa s something about die way he stopped in hoot of her suddenly, as if he had not iced something untoward about her appearance, that made her look at him curiousl y.
His eyes seemed to have setded on her mouth with disturbing steadiness and ther e was a definite frown between his black brows; the gleam in his eyes as bright as steel. *Have you seen Monsieur Michel this morning, mademoiselle?^ he asked , and the very ordinariness of the question took her by surprise, so that she st ared up at him.
'No,' she said without hesitation, 'not this morning. monsieur.*
It seemed he was satisfied with her answer, for he was nodding his head, althou gh she could not imagine why at the moment 'TThen you have seen Jean Cordet, yes ?'
Puzzled and increasingly irritated by his manner, Charlotte nodded again. 'I sa w Monsieur Cordet when he was
leaving your office just now,' she told him. *But we were talking for only a fe w minutes, monsieur J*
Now that he had established who it was she had been talking to he seemed no lon ger interested and the frown had disappeared, although it was asking too much th at it should be replaced with a smile, she thought ruefully. He inclined his hea d briefly and turned aside with the obvious intention of c(mtinuing on his way. But to Charlotte, who hated mysteries, there was still a question to be answered .
*I don't quite see why you asked me ' she began.
'It is of no consequence, mademoiselle !' he interrupted quickly, but once mor e Charlotte delayed his departure, this time by placing a hand on his arm when h e would have moved off.
He looked down at her fingers curled lighdy over his arm and for a moment she a nticipated a brusque rejection, but instead he reached out suddenly and pressed the cushion of his left thumb against the comer of her mouth. Charlotte gasped, stepped back and stared at him frown-ingly until he turned the thumb over and sh owed her the inside of it. A smudge of pink Upstick smeared the hard brown skin and she looked at it for a moment uneasily.
*It is to be hoped,' Raoul said in a voice that mocked her swift colour, *±at Jea n Cordet does not blush as easily as you do, mademoiselle !'
He was gone, striding across the hall and disappearing into oat of the other doors before Charlotte recovered sufficiendy to realise why he had asked that qu estion about seeing Michel. Automatically she glared across at the door through which he had disappeared, indignant at the idea of his thinking she would allow Michel to kiss her. But then she realised that he had implied no more than Jean Cordet had done when he questioned her, and she shrugged uneasily. It was lucky that she had taken the precaution of avoiding Michel that morning, for she dou bted if Raoul
Menais would have sought an alternative otherwise.
Lizette looked vaguely surprised at being consulted about whether or not Charlo tte should be given the evening oflF, and she realised that it must be a rare oc currence for her opinion to be asked on anything. She looked at Charlotte with h er pale, vague eyes and blinked. *Why are you asking ine?' she said, and Charlot te smiled patiendy.
'Because you're my employer, Madame Lizette. Of course I have to ask you.' Lizette regarded her for several seconds with that same rather blank look, then she shook her head slowly. *I suppose I am your employer,' she mused, as if the fact had only just dawned on her, and Charlotte found her touch-ingly naive in the circumstances, for the idea so obviously intrigued her. *You're entided to f ree time, are you not?' she asked, and Charlotte nodded.
*Yes, madameJ'
*Well then—yes, I suppose that you may have the evening off,' she said. She brush ed the wisps of hair back from her forehead with one hand; a gesture that was be coming very familiar. *You have a date?' she enquired, and Charlotte nodded. *Yes, madame, although I told him that it depended whether or not you allowed me the evening off.'
Lizette flicked through the pages of a magazine without even looking at them. ' What time is he coming for you?' she asked, and Charlotte took it that she had h er permission to go.
*At six, madame; we're driving into Paris for dinner.'
'Naturally, where else? Mon dieuy the inevitability of men!'
Charlotte looked at her uneasily. Somehow whenever Madame Menais said Lizette w as unwell the words seemed to have inverted commas around them, and these moods of
hers made her uneasy. In the circumstances it might be expected that she stay w ith her instead of going out. Making light of it, she ventured a question and la ughed as she did so.
*I suppose we're not breaking any house rules by dating, are we?' she asked. *I mean, there's nothing against members of the staff going out together?'
Lizette's pale blue eyes looked blank for a moment, then she laughed harshly. * Rules?' she echoed, and waved her arms about carelessly. *Are rules not made to be broken? Go and &a}oy yourself, ma fille, while you have the opportunity ! '
Her laughter made Charlotte shiver involuntarily, for it had the ring of desper ation, or madness. 1 just thought ' she began.
*Act, don't think!' Lizette advised wildly. *No one thinks first in this family ! We might live to regret it, of course, but it's fun while it lasts, and that's all that matters, isn't it?'
Charlotte 'could not even guess what was behind the remark, but its bitterness starded her and made her more uncertain than ever about leaving Lizette alone. G lancing at her watch at that moment was purely instinctive and meant nothing, bu t Lizette noticed it and reacted.
*0h, for heaven's sake go and get yourself ready before I change my mind I' she ordered sharply. *I can manage by myself, I'm not completely helpless!'
There seemed htde point in arguing with her in her present mood, and Charlotte had to admit that she looked forward to an evening out. The company of Jean Cord et was infinitely more inviting than that of her employer, and she could always arrange later dates to suit her. *Thank you, madame, that's very good of you.' Lizette said somediing in Prench which went right over her head, but Charlotte was conscious of the pale eyes
lowing her to the door and she half-turned in the doorway to look back at her. *Have fun! * Lizette said in her harshly husky voice. 'Amuse-toi bien, ma chere l*
It was the hardest thing in the world to close the door on her and just walk of f, but Charlotte told herself she was being over-sensitive as she made her way a long to her own room. Lizette Menais was used to being alone, and one more eveni ng wasn't going to make very much difference.
CHAPTER THREE
Charlotte took a last look at herself in the mirror and was glad she had chose n to wear the pale yellow dress because it suited her so well and she wanted to look good for her first date with Jean Cordet. She had no hesitation in looking upon this as their first date, for she had litde doubt that he would ask her out again.
The chiffon clung sofdy to her shape and its colour emphasised the tawny lights in her hair, so that she was quite satisfied with the end result. Checking her watch as she turned away, she wondered if by some happy chance Jean Cordet might arrive early tor their date, and with the possibility in mind she made her way downstairs, resisting the temptation to look in on Lizette again.
But it was not Jean Cordet she caught sight of as she came down the last few st eps into the hall. Raoul Menais was just leaving his office and she eyed him war ily without quite knowing why she reacted the way she did. He saw her in the sam e mcnnent and came across the hall with long purposeful strides, arriving just a s she reached the foot of the stairs. Boldly and without attempting to disguise it he took stock of her. Just as clearly he liked what he saw.
although he did no more than narrow his eyes slighdy.
Charlotte clutched the evening purse in her hand so tightly that the raised pat tern on it impressed itself cm her palm, and she found the scrutiny of those gre y eyes so discomfiting that she did not look up at him. *I am sorry to disappoin t you, mademoiselle,'* he said without preliminary, *but I need your help.' Glancing down at her dress, Charlotte frowned anxiously. *My help?' she queried . *I don't quite understand. Monsieur Raoul.'
Impatience showed in his eyes, and she had noticed before how his mouth tighten ed when anyone failed to comprehend his meaning immediately. He was decidedly th e most impatient man she had ever met and he seemed to regard her as slightly di m-witted by his standards, it seemed.
*It is quite simple, mademoiselle,'' he explained with studied precision. *I have some important letters to get off tonight, and I need the services of a sec retary. Mademoiselle Duclair who normally works for me has succumbed to some my sterious illness and gone home, and there is no one else available!'
He spoke as if he suspected the poor girl of arranging her sudden illness with the specific idea of annoying him, but in any case Charlotte did not see what p ossible use she could be to him when she spoke almost no French. *I don't speak French,' she reminded him, *and I wouldn't know where to begin taking dictation in French, Monsieur Raoui. Couldn't you get cme of the other girls to help out?' She could feel his temper reaching out to envelop her and there was no conceal ing the bright glitter of it in his eyes as he looked down at her. *No, mademoi selle, I cannot get another girl to help, I have already said so. They have all departed for the day.'
*Which is what I was about to do,' Charlotte reminded him. *I have a dinner date, Monsieur Raoul.*
'I have already apologised for your disappointment,' he pointed out with chilli ng practicality, *but this is more important, Miss Kennedy, and I have Madame Li zette's permission to make use of your services.' He swept his gaze once more ov er the pale yellow dress and must have known just how she had looked forward to her date. *If you would prefer to change into something more practical before yo u begin,' he told her, *do so; but I am in rather a hurry, so please do not be t oo long.'
It was an order, quite clearly, and Charlotte's chin took on the slightest sugg estion of a thrust as she looked up into his face, finding those steely grey eye s very hard to meet. It wasn't easy defying him, but she felt he was behaving so unreasonably that she was entitled to object.
'I'm all ready to go out,' she pointed out unnecessarily, *and I feel '
'I am not concerned with what you feel, mademoiselle^ he interrupted shortly. *These letters are most urgent and you are employed by my family as a secretary. I shall expect to see you in my office in not more than ten minutes' time, howe ver you are dressed!'
He turned and went striding back across the hall while Charlotte was still tryi ng to gather her wits. For a moment or two she stood at the foot of the stairs w ondering if she had the nerve to simply go with Jean Cordet and ignore the order to report to foul's office, but the fact that her own disobedience must inevita bly involve Jean Cordet as well finally decided her, and she went back upstairs. She was trembling when she opened her bedroom door and she glared at her own re flection as she pulled on the red dress she had worn all day. He had no right, s he told herself, to behave as he was doing, but until she was more sure of just how all-powerful he was in the scheme of things she could not afford to risk his anger too far.
It was slightly more than the allotted ten minutes when she crossed the hall, h er heels clicking angrily on the gleaming stone floor. Her watch showed five min utes past six, but it was just possible that her escort had not yet arrived and she glanced only briefly at Raoul Menais's office door before she went over to t he double doors and eased them apart slighdy to look outside.
'Mademoiselle!'
She turned back swifdy when she was called and closed the doors in such haste t hat they banged together. He said nothing more but turned and went back into his office leaving her to follow, and probably never doubting that she would. Obedi ent but resentful, she walked into the room after him and took a second to look around her.
It could have changed litde with its transformation into an office, for the whi te paint and flashing gilt curlicues were as prolific here as in the salon. A tall slim window at one end let in the evening light and gave a view of the ches tnut trees that lined the approach road. It was a lovely room, even now that it was furnished with dark, businesslike office furniture, and in other circumstanc es Charlotte would have enjoyed working there.