Page 4 of A Noble Affair
“I was asking Charles if he could look in on Isabelle at Cambridge when he goes to England next weekend.” Adelaide’s daughter was in her first semester at university there.
“Why are you going to England?” his mother interrogated.
Charles shot his sister a look before breaking off a piece of bread. “Manon will begin filming in London. I plan on accompanying her just for the weekend.”
“Louis, what will you do while your father’s away?”
Louis shrank into his seat as all eyes turned towards him. “I didn’t…I don’t know.” He scraped his fork against the plate, and everyone cringed.
Charles’s eldest sister, Eléonore, who was six years his senior, spoke peremptorily. “Louis, you will come and stay with me.”
Louis’s face froze in alarm until his father rescued him. “Louis is perfectly fine here by himself. He’s fifteen years old and doesn’t need a babysitter. Paltier will be here if he needs anything. Besides—” addressing his son directly, “you have plenty of homework, don’t you?”
Louis mumbled and inspected the table, spared from a further need to talk by the footmen bringing in plates of roast pigeon and potatoes seasoned with thyme.
“Charles, you know I don’t like poultry with little bones,” his eldest sister exclaimed.
Paltier had begun to fill the viscount’s glass halfway with red wine, and he looked up at that. Charles drew in a breath. “I’m sorry, Eléonore. I had forgotten.”
Adelaide hid a smile behind her linen napkin as her brother-in-law spoke bracingly. “It’s not like quail,mon chou. You won’t break a tooth this time.”
“Paltier, I’ll have some fish. Or an egg if you’ve nothing else.” Eléonore inched backwards in her seat to allow the footman to clear the plate.
“My dear,” continued her loving husband, “you are perfectly right to take no chances, especially with Mathilde’s wedding coming up. Last time you chipped your tooth, you couldn’t talk properly for a month.”
“No loss,” whispered Adelaide.
Charles was immune to Adelaide’s attempts to make him laugh in front of their mother—the age-old game for their private amusement. He knew she wanted to chip through his icy exterior, and she knew his coldness was only a façade. Still, they slipped into the roles easily. Ignoring Adelaide, he addressed his mother. “The mayor asked me to serve on his advisory board for the city.”
Eléonore looked up. “It’s about time you got more involved in politics.” Eléonore’s husband, Raphael was the campaign director for the right wing political party in France.
“I’m not getting involved in politics,” Charles said firmly. “I’m more concerned with the affairs in this town—preserving the forest, for a start.”
“I thought that was a given,” Adelaide said, serious for once. “I thought there were strict laws and that nothing could be built there.”
“There are.” Charles took a sip of his wine and separated the meat from the drumstick. Its brown sauce marred the pristine white of the china plate. “There are those who feel some of the forest could be sold off to build a new housing community.”
Everyone became animated, except Louis, who examined his plate. “I have never heard of anything like this,” the dowager spluttered. “Is no property—no piece of history to remain sacred?”
“Many people felt the same way when my father bought the Château de Maisons-Laffitte,” Charles said in a spirit of mischief.
“I hope you do not regret he did so.” His mother’s tone was dangerous.
“No Maman,” was the smooth reply. “I recognize the value of heritage.”
His mother picked up her fork again but remained silent throughout the meal. Paltier brought in the cheese platter and everyone refused, except Charles and his brother-in-law, who apparently decided to ignore the straining shirt buttons. Everyone accepted an espresso.
The family lingered after their coffee for over an hour while Louis slipped away. Afterwards, the dowager walked down the large marble steps in the foyer and allowed her son-in-law to open the heavy iron and glass door that led to the courtyard. She turned to her son to receive his kisses and, glancing beyond him to the men trimming the trees, placed her gloved hand on Charles’s arm and sighed. “The grounds have never looked as good as they did when Pierre was caring for them.”
“Yes,” he answered with a grim smile. “But Pierre took off one day without saying a word.”
“I was never more shocked in my life.” His mother gripped his arm. “After twenty-two years of faithful service to go off without a word. He left the hedges half-trimmed.” She shook her head, and in spite of her sudden vehemence, seemed frail.
Charles waited for his mother to recover, and when she did, her voice held urgency. “See that you preserve the legacy of this place. It may not have been long in our family, but you owe it to the families that came before you—and you owe it to your son.”
“I will, Maman.” He led his mother to the back seat of her chauffeured car. He helped her into it and turned to kiss his sisters, and take leave of his brother-in-law, as they crossed the courtyard. As usual, there was little discussion between the men.
“Charles.” Raphael shook his hand, his pompous voice booming out in the courtyard.
