Page 18 of Whispers At Dawn
They sat observing the château as daylight broke and the pale edges of the old house were etched in sharp relief against the colourful backdrop of the sky.
‘It’s actually got turrets like a fairytale castle!’ Lizzie said.
The shutters were opened at 6 a.m. sharp and a woman’s head bobbed around inside one room on the upper floor of the château.
‘Last I heard, my uncle lives alone, apart from a housekeeper and a small household staff. That must be her.’
Lizzie smoothed out the skirt of her dress as they readied themselves to approach the stately building, speaking only in French.
‘Do I look presentable?’ asked Lizzie.
‘You look incredible.’
Lizzie said, ‘Now, I know you’re fibbing, but thank you all the same.’
They walked around to the back of the château, and Jack tapped on the door with the brass knocker.
They heard a dog bark and the scurry of footsteps. The door opened slowly, and a woman’s face appeared in the crack.
‘Oui?’
Jack apologised for the early morning intrusion and launched into an explanation.
The woman’s expression switched from one of guarded suspicion to keen interest, and she stepped back slightly,opening the door wider. A big dog shot out and licked Lizzie’s hand.
‘Some guard dog, that one,’ said the woman, rolling her eyes and permitting her face to break into a small smile. ‘Unless he takes against you, he’s hopeless.’
Lizzie stroked the dog, who made little yelps of pleasure.
‘Well, Monsieur Saint-Clair is on the terrace. Excuse me, whilst I tell him you’re here.’ The woman beckoned to a table and chairs in the courtyard. ‘Please take a seat and I’ll be back soon. Beau will keep you company, by the looks of it,’ she said, pointing to the enthusiastic dog.
They sat down and Lizzie continued playing with the dog, stroking his big black and tan head and silky ears. ‘What breed is he, do you think?’ she asked Jack.
‘He’s a Beauceron, a French herding dog, who’s obviously smitten with you. Can’t say I blame him.’
Five minutes passed before the woman returned. ‘Monsieur says he will see you now.’ She extended her hand to Jack and then Lizzie. ‘I am Suzanne, the housekeeper, here for ten years. I must say, I’ve never heard him mention you before. Didn’t know he had any family in Brittany. Mind you, he keeps himself to himself.’
‘I’m a distant cousin,’ Jack reiterated. ‘It’s been some time since my father was in touch with Monsieur Saint-Clair. Perhaps my letter notifying him of our visit went astray.’
‘The mail is unreliable, so that would make sense,’ she said, hurrying through the wide entrance hall and beckoning them to follow. ‘This way.’
Jack and Lizzie exchanged a look. The success of their mission depended on Jack’s uncle recognising him immediately and playing along with their cover story without question. It would only take one wrong word in the housekeeper's presence, and all could be lost.
They followed her into an elegant drawing room with an enormous chandelier and an exquisite parquet floor, through one of the tall double doors and out onto a stone terrace that overlooked a vista of vineyards and lavender fields. The sun had risen and chased away the eerie shadows of the night. The air was warm and white puffy clouds adorned the pale blue sky.
Jack gazed at the familiar view and for a moment it was as though he were still a boy and there was no war. Just a fun-filled adventure to his uncle’s château in the South of France.
An old man with a shock of silver hair and dark eyes, just like Jack’s, stood to greet them. ‘Thank you, that will be all, Suzanne.’
The woman left the room, calling the affectionate big dog who had followed them, to heel, promising him breakfast.
Jack clasped his uncle’s hand, and his voice was low. ‘Uncle Luc, thank you for seeing us and apologies for the sudden unannounced visit. I told your housekeeper I had sent a letter, but the truth is there wasn’t time. May I present my wife, Isabelle Dubois. We are here on a serious matter, and I must ask you to promise to keep our secret, or it could mean death for us all.’
Luc studied Jack and moved his hand in a sweeping gesture. ‘How very thrilling. I’ve been slowly going out of my mind with boredom during this war. You must tell me everything, but first let me order you breakfast. You look as though you’ve been travelling all night.’
He rang the bell and Suzanne reappeared a few minutes later like a genie.
The door closed behind her once more. ‘Now begin at the beginning and leave nothing out,’ the old man said, fixing Jack with a steely stare. ‘The last person I expected to see was my nephew from London.’
