Page 6 of Summer at the Château
Gwen gasped at her first sight of the room. Old-fashioned brown chunky leather furniture, a large chandelier and a huge granite fireplace with a shield carved into the main beam, thick rugs on the wooden floor. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘It’s like a film set forDownton Abbey.’
Pixie smiled. ‘The other downstairs room is very similar. Come and see the kitchen.’
Walking through the hallway past the sweeping stone staircase that dominated the space towards the kitchen, she pointed out another door. ‘That leads to the cellars, no need to go down there right now.’ The lovely wooden floors throughout the ground floor were in desperate need of a polish and the whole place could do with an airing.
Pixie flicked a switch in the kitchen and the lights came on as she moved across to open the French doors and push the shutters back against the outside wall. A large knife-scarred pine table stood in the middle, a mixture of chairs placed around it, an ancient refrigerator stood against one wall, a range and a sink were situated at the back. An elaborately carved Breton dresser dominated the remaining wall space. The wooden floors in here had given way to hexagonal terracotta tiles and there was a sad-looking wicker cat or dog basket pushed into a corner. It looked exactly as Pixie remembered it, even down to the faded paintwork.
‘You could feed a lot of people in here,’ Gwen said as she followed Pixie and stepped out through the doors onto the terrace at the rear of the château. A round wrought-iron table and four chairs were placed there for easy access from the kitchen. ‘Imagine sitting out here to eat with that view,’ Gwen continued, looking out over the lawn in front of them to a small copse in the distance, where a lake was shimmering in the sunlight. ‘Beautiful. The orangery looks in need of some TLC,’ she noted, taking in the neglected structure with its shabby paintwork and cracked glass in places.
‘Not sure it’s worth saving,’ Pixie said, following her gaze. ‘Come and see the upstairs.’
On the half-landing at the top of the first flight of stairs where the staircase curved to the left before continuing to the next level, a large suit of armour stood guard to one side in a pool of sunshine pouring in through the large arched window that looked out over the grounds at the rear of the château.
Opening doors and switching on lights, pointing out the original claw-footed baths in the four bathrooms, the four-poster bed in the main bedroom, the candelabra on the hallway walls, Pixie smiled as Gwen enthused about the château.
‘I understand now why you and Frank fell in love with this place.’
‘The next floor was originally the servants’ quarters, I think,’ Pixie said, leading the way up the plain wooden functional staircase that served the third floor. ‘I planned on having my office up here in this room,’ she added, opening the door to a large room with two dormer windows that looked out over the drive at the front of the château. Standing there talking to Gwen she remembered how excited she’d felt the day she had stood in the same spot with Frank’s arms around her. She could hear his voice now, urging her to follow her dream. ‘We’ll buy this place, and when we go home, you will start writing that novel you’ve always wanted to so that when we do move over here in a few years, you’ll be established. And this room will be your library-cum-office, where you’ll find more inspiration for bestsellers and organise writers’ retreats to which other authors will flock.’ He’d had it all planned out.
Pixie smothered a sigh. She’d worked hard and established herself as a novelist, so that part of her dream had come true, but as for the rest of it – moving to France and running a writer’s retreat – that wasn’t going to happen now. At least she’d fulfilled half her dream, she’d have to be content with that.
A large pile of new wooden planks in the far corner caught her eye. Had they been there before? The rest of the château was as she remembered from their original visit and from the photographs they’d taken and looked at so often. Pixie shrugged; it didn’t matter.
‘Pixie, are you all right? You’ve gone very quiet,’ Gwen’s voice broke into her reverie.
‘We were going to turn this room into an office-cum-library for me,’ she answered. ‘Come on, let’s go back downstairs. So what d’you think? One night at the auberge and then camp out here?’
‘Definitely,’ Gwen answered. ‘Which bedroom are you having? The master bedroom with its four-poster? I’d like this one,’ she said, walking towards a room in one of the round towers. ‘I shall feel like a queen lying under that beautiful scarlet canopy.’
‘Consider it yours. Tomorrow, after the notaire, we’ll go shopping for food and supplies,’ Pixie said.
Wandering back down through the house, the strong feelings she’d felt when they’d first viewed it came back.I could be happy living here.
Pixie pushed that thought away. It was another dream that would never happen.
‘Did you know you would get all this furniture too when you bought the house?’ Gwen asked, stopping to examine the grandfather clock that stood in a nook to the side of the stairs in the main hallway.
‘Monsieur Quiltu assured us that everything we saw on the day we bought would still be here. No family, he said, to squabble over who got what. Sad really. Right, I’ll just get the bedding out of the car and dump it in the hall for now, and then we’d better go and check in to the auberge and find somewhere for a spot of lunch.’
Once she’d locked the house up again, Pixie walked over to the cottage to show Gwen around.
‘Funny, I don’t seem to have a key that fits,’ she muttered as she tried all the keys on the ring. ‘I’ll ask the notaire tomorrow if he has one, otherwise I’ll have to find a locksmith from somewhere.’
6
Although it was several years since Pixie and Frank had stayed at the Auberge de Campagne, she received a warm welcome when she arrived with Gwen and knocked on the door.
‘Bonjour and welcome back,’ Fern said, ushering them both in and showing them to their rooms, Gwen’s on the ground floor overlooking the garden and Pixie’s on the first floor.
‘You have a good memory for your guests,’ Pixie said as they climbed the stairs, surprised that Fern had remembered her.
Fern nodded. ‘I do actually, but in your case it was the fact that you were buying Château Quiltu and I’ve been hoping to see you again for years. Not that I wished Monsieur Quiltu dead, but you know what I mean.’
Pixie smiled and nodded. ‘We’re going to camp out at the château for a few days so it will be just the one night here.’
‘That’s fine. Will your husband be joining you over Easter? He was full of plans when he stayed here last year.’
Pixie swallowed hard. ‘He died a few weeks ago.’
