Page 5 of A French Country Escape
5
As they got closer to the château, Sasha and Freddie followed the lights that were shining out from the side and back windows onto a flagstone path. The back door, an ancient heavy oak one, was illuminated by an old-fashioned oil lamp converted to electricity. Sasha made a mental note to try to find something similar for their cottages.
Freddie reached out and lifted the ring of the antique brass door-knocker and gave a gentle tap.
There was a short bark before they heard Ingrid call out, ‘It’s open. Come on in.’
As Freddie turned the handle on the heavy door and ushered Sasha in to a large, beautifully fitted-out kitchen, a Golden Labrador wandered over to inspect them. Sasha immediately bent down to stroke her. ‘Aren’t you beautiful?’
‘Hello, I’m Peter Chevalier. Welcome to the Château du Cheval from the three of us,’ Peter said as he moved forward to greet them, while Ingrid poured four flutes of champagne.
‘Gladys does like to inspect and greet everyone,’ Ingrid said.
‘We wish you every happiness in your new life in France and here in the cottages,’ Peter said, handing them each a flute.
‘Thank you.’
The four of them clinked glasses and took a sip before Sasha said, ‘Ingrid mentioned you have French ancestors – is the château connected to your family? Is that why you bought it?’
Peter smiled as he shook his head. ‘The French side of my family originated in northern France, but sadly my great-grandfather Edward Chevalier was the last of the line and by the time my grandparents had moved to England, there were no French relatives left alive – all gone by the beginning of the twentieth century. I did have one of those wonderful breathless moments when we moved in and a lady in the village introduced herself as Madame Chevalier. I almost stopped breathing with shock, thinking she was a long-lost relative I’d failed to discover.’ Peter shook his head. ‘Sadly, she’s not. Her family have lived in the village for a couple of generations but originally came from the Loire valley. It turns out the name Chevalier is one of the most common surnames in France. But I haven’t given up looking. It’s finding time, at the moment.’
‘So, no family connection at all to this château,’ Ingrid said. ‘Peter and I simply fell in love with it. What brought you two here?’
‘The need for a change of scene, a bit of an adventure,’ Freddie said. ‘And, of course, current English house prices. Buying here together definitely gave us more for our money.’
Peter nodded in agreement before changing the subject. ‘Solange said you might be looking for some work as a general handyman and gardener?’
Freddie laughed. ‘No doubt about that.’
‘I could certainly do with some gardening and general help; shall we have a chat about it tomorrow morning?’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Nine o’clock by the stables then,’ Peter said.
Ingrid glanced at the large wall clock next to the dresser. ‘Supper will be another twenty minutes; would you like to see around?’
Sasha immediately put her glass down. ‘Definitely.’
Freddie’s mobile rang at that moment. ‘Sorry, but I need to answer this. I’ll catch you up.’
Sasha followed Ingrid along a short corridor where she opened a modern fire door and they found themselves in the marble-floored foyer of the château, with its sweeping marble staircase in its centre reaching to the first floor and dividing left and right.
‘If we stand here with our backs to the door, we can pretend we’ve just come up the steps and in through the main entrance,’ Ingrid said. ‘The property was built towards the end of the nineteenth century so is relatively “young”, at only one hundred and fifty years old. We don’t know a lot about its history, but we do know a family called Colbert built it and ran a horse stud here. It remained in that family until after the First World War when it was sold for the first time. Sadly, the equestrian side of things slowed down between the two world wars and had virtually finished altogether by the late sixties as the estate was divided up and sold off.’
Sasha gazed around her. ‘I adore your horse statue. It’s beautiful. Was it here when you bought the château?’
Ingrid laughed. ‘Unfortunately, the place came with very little in the way of furniture or artefacts. Merlin here was a wonderful surprise. The stables, as they fell out of use, had become a real dumping-ground over the years for anything and everything deemed to be broken or no longer useful, and we found Merlin on his side, buried under rotting carpets and all sorts of rubbish. Restoring him was one of those additional expenses that swallowed money, and one we definitely hadn’t anticipated, but once we discovered him,’ Ingrid gave a wrysmile, ‘we couldn’t not restore him,’ and she gently stroked one of Merlin’s raised forelegs. ‘The only thing we know about him is his name. There were the remains of a metal tag screwed into the base and we could just make it out. We believe, though, that he’s part of the history of the château. I like to think of him as our mascot, telling us that everything will be all right in the end.’
‘Did the stables need a lot of restoring too?’ Sasha said.
Ingrid sighed. ‘Thankfully, the building, like the château itself, is sound. But inside – again, like the château, only worse – was –is– a mess. We’ve only recently partially cleared the stables out to make room for a DIY livery request. There’s still a lot to sort out, as well as the tack room and the rooms above. Let’s just say they’re all on the long “when we have the time and money” to-do list.’
‘But how lovely to have at least one horse again in the stables that were clearly important to the château,’ Sasha said.
‘Do you ride?’ Ingrid said, hearing the wistful note in Sasha’s voice.
‘I did. Pony-mad as a young girl. Never had my own horse, though, and I haven’t ridden for ages, but I love horses,’ Sasha said. ‘The nearest I’ve got to them in recent years is sketching and painting them.’ Ingrid gave her a questioning look but Sasha shrugged. ‘That’s been pushed to one side recently too, but I’m definitely going to start painting again soon.’
