The French House by Helen Fripp (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📕

deserted when they emerged from their hotel. Then she heard them. Tocsins ringing out all around Paris. Women rushing by with white rosettes pinned to their dresses, men with white armbands, dashing up the avenue towards the Champs-Élysées, the deafening sound of hundreds of horseshoes on cobbles.

‘Please, what’s happening?’ Nicole shouted to a passer-by.

‘The liberators. They’re here, right on the Champs-Élysées!’

‘Wait inside the hotel,’ she instructed the boy with their trunks. ‘Don’t move. I’m going to see, but I’ll be back in half an hour.’

The talk was of a Russian invasion, but a welcome one. After the bloody revolution, then decades of war and a man, Napoléon, who had declared himself effectively a hereditary aristocrat, what had it all been for? The Russians would help to depose the despot and restore peace, everyone agreed.

Today was a chance to witness history. As she and Mentine followed the crowds, there was the same charge in the air there had been twenty-five years ago on that hot July day of the revolution. At fourteen, Mentine was three years older than Nicole herself had been then. The expensive red woollen dress she’d worn at eleven years old attracted unwelcome attention for the little rich girl she was then, and today she was wearing conspicuous red again, this time a silk travelling robe, and a velvet cape to protect against the grime of the road. She held Mentine’s hand tight, but just as on the day of the revolution, she couldn’t resist the pull of the crowds.

She pushed through the crush, right to the front, just in time to see the incredible sight. Tsar Alexander on a white horse, surrounded by allied officers – the red of the Cossacks, the blue of the Russians, marching peacefully up the Champs-Élysées. Crowds cheered. The women’s white rosettes signified their welcome, the men’s white armbands happy surrender. There were even some whispers amongst the crowd about the restoration of the monarchy.

As she gazed at the spectacle, Nicole felt a strange flutter of recognition. The man to Alexander’s left flank was the Russian from the café! He didn’t see her as the battalions marched by in orderly ranks. Not far behind him was a gilt carriage, and inside a beautiful dark-haired woman, feathered headdress fluttering in the breeze. Of course, Thérésa wouldn’t miss this victory parade for the world and there she was, not far behind the Tsar himself.

Mentine broke away from her and skipped through the ranks, screaming at Thérésa. ‘It’s me, it’s me!’

Thérésa stopped the carriage, threw open the door and pulled her in. From inside, Mentine pointed and the carriage was manoeuvred to the edge. Nicole ran to it, desperate to get her daughter back.

Thérésa flung open the door once more for Nicole.

‘How could you think of making poor little Mentine stand in this crush? And you’re so tiny you’ll get trampled. Jump up, there’s plenty of room!’

Nicole shook her head. The days of allowing herself to be swept along in Thérésa’s treacherous wake were over.

‘I won’t let you go back through that crowd. There’s no telling when it might turn nasty. Get in, now.’

On the other hand, she was right, and why not take advantage of such a serendipitous encounter, as long as she went into it with her eyes open?

‘Please, Maman.’

Nicole jumped up reluctantly.

‘You quite stood out, this petite little figure with strawberry hair and a bright red dress. Very easy to spot and quite lovely! Where are you off to?’

‘We’re leaving Paris at midday from the Pont de Bercy. I have to get back to my cellars and I’ve booked a seat on the last cart out of here. In fact, we should get back to the hotel, I have a boy waiting with my luggage.’

‘I’ll take you to the Pont de Bercy for midday and send a soldier for your luggage. You can’t drag poor Mentine back through that lot! You’ll stay with me ’til then. I’ve missed you!’

Nicole glanced furtively at the bag in her lap.

‘Just as I saw you last time, clutching that leather bag, my dear. Where are you off to with it now?’

Nicole gripped it tighter. This time, the jewelled box had the necklace in it. Since her last encounter with Thérésa, she never travelled without it, a slightly superstitious precaution.

‘It’s not much use to blackmail me with now. You know I’m always on the winning side. This one just took a little longer than expected. The Tsar is quite the celebrity in Paris now, and the only person worth being connected with.’

Mentine was entranced by the crowd, waving and delighted to be part of the show.

Nicole dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I have learned the hard way that none of your friendships are based on loyalty or love.’

‘That luxury belongs to the rich; you would do well to understand that. Fortunes change, darling, we all know that. I hear yours are waning with the war. That necklace is worth a small fortune. Keep it and invest it in your little vineyards. I don’t need Moët, or his friend Napoléon any more, they’re both finished. Now – don’t look at me like that. We are friends first, just a little business got in the way. All that’s behind us now. Show me some warmth in those flinty eyes. I know they can melt from winter to spring in seconds.’

‘Just business? I would struggle to treat my worst enemies the way you did me.’

‘Take the moral high ground as much as you like, but your business is placed above everything, even your own child.’

Both women watched as Mentine blew kisses out of the window.

I hardly know this young woman any more, thought Nicole with a stab of regret.

Thérésa continued in a whisper, ‘And as far as I can tell, poor Moët is your worst enemy and you have shown him very little mercy. Forgive me, please. I won’t pretend I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was desperate, and we’re both fine now, aren’t we?’

‘As much