Suspects(38)

The chateau had been Matthieu’s first step back to restoring his family’s property and fortune, and it had been deeply symbolic for him. He had been so eager to pass it on to Axel one day, and always made Axel walk the property with him, telling his son all about it. Inevitably one day Axel would have learned of the family’s strong Nazi connections too, and that they’d lost everything they had as a result.

“Do you mind if I take a brief look in the house?” Pierre asked politely, and she nodded.

“Of course.” She led the way and asked Daniel to bring in two suitcases she had brought with her for her clothes, and the two men followed her up the front steps. She had given the inside staff the afternoon off. She didn’t want anyone around for her first visit back since the kidnapping. She wanted to be alone with her painful memories without anyone watching her. It was hard enough having de Vaumont there.

The new gardener continued shoveling dirt as she unlocked the front door, turned the large brass knob and switched off the alarm. Daniel and de Vaumont followed her in, and she closed the door behind them. She told Daniel where to leave the valises in her dressing room and gave Pierre a brief tour of the main floor. Everything was in perfect order and of the highest quality: beautiful paintings, lovely antiques, fifteenth-century tapestries covering some of the walls, antique rugs. It really was easy to see why Matthieu had loved it, and she had too. But she no longer did. She didn’t want to stay long enough for it to seriously upset her. De Vaumont could see that she was eager to leave. She showed him the large, extremely functional modern kitchen, and offered to run him upstairs quickly.

“You don’t really need to. I don’t want to overstay. It’s a magnificent home, and a piece of history. I’m sure it has enough bedrooms.” But she felt he should see it all and took him upstairs, where she carefully avoided Axel’s room. She was grateful the door was closed.

“There are sixteen bedrooms, including the master suite,” she explained. “Fourteen baths, and the entire top floor has been redone for nannies and house staff, and a nursery I put in when my son was born.” Just saying it almost made her wince from the pain. The chateau was still an open wound for her, one she knew she wouldn’t recover from.

“My friends would be fortunate if you ever decide to sell or rent to them,” he said in respectful, hushed tones, as if visiting a church or a sacred monument, which it was to her.

“I’ll let you know what I decide when I’m ready,” she said a little stiffly. It was hard being here, which made it difficult to talk to him.

“Thank you for letting me drop by. I’m afraid anything else I see will suffer by comparison.” She followed him out and walked the gardens with him, which were spectacular. She spent an hour with him and had a headache by the time he left. She went back upstairs to her dressing room and sat down for a minute. Being there upset her even more than she’d expected. She felt dizzy and light-headed, and then got up, opened her drawers, and put stacks of sweaters on the bed. It took longer than she planned. She packed the sweaters neatly to take back to the city, as well as several coats she could wear with jeans on weekends. She went through her boots and decided that they were all rough heavy boots for walking on muddy country roads and not for the city. She stood up after packing for an hour and started perspiring from the effort. Her face felt damp and she felt dizzy again. It was too hard being there and she wanted to leave as soon as she could. It was too emotional. She took out another stack of heavy sweaters, held them in her arms, and walked down the stairs with them, feeling disoriented. She was confused for a minute and then reminded herself that she had come to take her sweaters home. For a minute she wondered where Axel was and thought he was upstairs, then remembered that he wasn’t there.

She let herself out of the house, walked down the outer steps, and headed across the lawn holding her sweaters, walking past Daniel as she did. He was startled when he saw her, and she looked very pale.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he offered.

“No, I’m taking these to Paris,” she said with a determined look, and walked right past the station wagon with them toward the driveway. The gardener was staring at her too. Her bodyguard wasn’t sure whether to interfere or not, or if the visit had been too much for her and snapped something in her mind. The gardener was watching her closely as Daniel followed her discreetly. She was standing in the driveway, looking confused. She gazed up at him when he reached her.

“I can’t find my suitcase. It was here a minute ago. Did you bring it down?” she asked him.

“Not yet. It was in your dressing room, ma’am, when the gentleman left. I put your valises in your dressing room two hours ago.”

“What gentleman? Was someone here?” He could see that her face was glistening with sweat, and she looked like she needed to sit down. He took the sweaters from her and walked her back to the front steps. She sat down and glanced up at him again. “I think I feel a little sick.” As she said it, the gardener dropped his shovel and approached, and spoke in a smooth even voice to the bodyguard.

“I’m a paramedic,” he said quietly as he reached for Theo’s wrist and took her pulse. It was unusually slow and he glanced up at the bodyguard. “Does she take medication for low blood pressure?”

“No, I don’t,” she answered for herself, “but I’m feeling sick. Maybe I have the flu. I have a terrible headache.” The gardener-turned-paramedic looked into her eyes and saw that her pupils were constricted. He stepped away and Daniel followed.