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

‘I think the gifting of the entire Russian champagne market is sufficient in this case.’

‘I thought you’d refuse to speak to me again.’

‘Impossible. But you’re leaving tomorrow. Will we ever meet again?’

He shook his head.

‘Can you live a life in a night?’ asked Nicole.

He picked up a pink cushion.

‘After the ransom, a rose-coloured cloth is held over the newly-weds’ heads.’

He led her into Thérésa’s new ballroom, the opulent confection of gilt and mirrors just an illusion, she knew. Alexei took two candles from the sconces, lit them and gave one to her.

‘Hold this in front of you.’

He held the cushion over their heads and linked her arm.

‘Now, walk very slowly.’

In the mirrors, they were reflected a hundred times, and as many different lives were possible.

‘Now we stand on the cloth. That means we’re married and, traditionally, this is where I would kiss you.’

‘We French are revolutionaries, but we don’t mind sticking to tradition on special occasions.’

He held her close, paused to smile at the sheer luck of this moment, bitter eyes filled with desire, and kissed her. Outside, the sky turned indigo and the mirrors reflected it back, shrouding them in the whispering dark.

‘I have a country dasha,’ Nicole murmured as she pulled away. ‘A little place amongst the vines in Bouzy. It’s perfect for a honeymoon.’

‘Tomorrow I leave for the border.’

‘Then we have at least twelve hours and we can make each hour a year.’

‘You know I don’t sleep?’

‘Who sleeps on their wedding night?’

‘You are sure? I can only give you tonight.’

‘Very occasionally fate puts something your way that will make you happy, even if it’s wrong, and you know you just have to grab it and think about the rest later.’

They walked to Bouzy across the fields, the secret ways where Nicole knew she was unlikely to encounter anyone. Glow-worms lit their way in the overgrown places, making their own constellations in the undergrowth.

They talked, about their hopes and fears, their lives and loves and how it would have been for them if they had met in a different world. They dreamed of the impossible world they would create, filled with marvels and magic and love.

At the house in Bouzy, he carried her across the threshold and up the stairs. In the dark, he made her feel like melted sugar. When she woke in the morning, he was there, looking at her.

‘I was watching you breathe.’

The sun created a thread of crimson on the horizon, and they lay there without speaking, listened to the dawn chorus, watched the sun climb above the mist. A swarm of mayflies billowed up in front of the window, the light turning their transparent wings to flimsy lace. These creatures lived for years in the riverbank mud and they had one dazzling day in the sun, felt its heat, saw the green fields, the sway of wheat, the irises on the verges, the puffs of cow parsley, the thorny branches weighed down with May blossom and found their love in the swarm. Nicole understood one day was enough.

Chapter 30

Klikoskaya

July 1814

Ten thousand bottles of comet wine despatched to Russia! In her dreams, Nicole followed them, whispered to each of them in the night. They were safe with Louis. He had staked his whole life on this moment and she was ashamed he had to be hidden like a criminal on a Dutch ship, using his coat as a blanket, and sustaining himself on meagre rations, bought with Alexei’s money.

News was intermittent and slow. She imagined shipwrecks, bottle explosions, robberies. Even with Russian protection, so much could still go wrong.

For now, the trade routes were hers alone, no one in Reims was any the wiser and she seized the chance to take the market.

When Xavier came heaving down the press yard waving a letter, she ran out to greet him. He thrust it in her hand.

‘From Louis. But forget that for now. The old bird’s laid out, they reckon she’s on her last legs.’

‘Who? You’re scaring me!’

‘Natasha. I’ll take you now in the barouche and I’m driving – just for once, don’t bloody well argue with me!’

Natasha looked tiny in the big bed, her long grey hair thick on the pillow, eyes still bright, but her face different, lopsided. A line of salt circled the bed and hundreds of candles burned in the stifling room.

Nicole hugged her. ‘Natasha, what happened?’

‘Don’t! The salt line mustn’t break!’

She stroked Natasha’s cheek. ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t touch it.’

‘They’re here, but they can’t cross the line,’ she muttered.

‘Who, chérie?’

‘The aristos who killed my Daniel. The Restoration, my arse. They’re after me now, but they can’t pass the salt line.’

‘Of course they can’t get you. No one ever could.’

Natasha smiled with half her mouth and Nicole’s heart beat in fear. She gripped her hand.

‘Don’t be afraid, I’m ready. Maman is here,’ Natasha murmured.

‘But I’m not ready. I know you, you can will yourself back. Let me blow out some of these candles, and open some windows. You can’t breathe in here.’

‘Don’t touch a thing. Everything is as it should be.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Just let me be. I’m happy. I saved every sou, baked a hundred thousand loaves to afford this many candles. And stop those tears. I want to hear everything before I go. Everything. Send me off with the good news you have in your pocket.’

Louis’ letter. She’d forgotten all about it.

‘He’s reached Russia. But please, Natasha, not now…’

‘I knew he would… luck from the east. Keep going.’

‘The first bottles off the ship sold for twelve roubles each! He sold hundreds of crates right there and then on the harbour for fistfuls of money and fights broke out to be the first. He’s staying in a hotel at the port, he’s not going a step further. They’re desperate, queuing outside his hotel day and night and he’s making them grovel for my champagne.’

‘No more than you deserve. And General Marin?’

‘He was right in the middle of it all, directing the whole thing like a military campaign.