Page 6 of A French Country Escape
Ingrid, realising Sasha wasn’t going to say any more, nodded understandingly. ‘Penny, our daughter, was pony-mad too; nothing I could say would persuade her to change to ballet.’ Ingrid laughed. ‘Do feel free to wander down to the stables at some point. I’m sure Colette, who keeps her horse there now, will be happy to chat. Maybe even let you have a ride. Now, let me show you around,’ and Ingrid led her on into the château. ‘As you know, we are planning on opening this summer as achambres d’hôtes, so here we have the sitting room which leadsinto the dining room. We are also hoping to do some small functions in here. There is a larger room on the next floor where we will cater for bigger groups like wedding parties. And there is also an orangery on the side of the building, not visible from here, which hopefully people will book for small, intimate celebrations.’
‘This is a lovely room,’ Sasha said. The cream and pale green colour scheme complemented the honey-coloured oak panelling that lined three of the walls and was, in her eyes, perfect. She wandered over to look at an old-fashioned portrait hung by the huge inglenook fireplace, with a large silk flower arrangement standing on the hearth. Two formally suited men stood stiffly behind a beautiful young woman sitting gracefully, her dark blue gown spread out around her, and her hand, with a beautiful opal and diamond ring on her third finger, placed on the head of a white dog at her feet. ‘Do you know who these people are? Or is it just a portrait you bought to furnish the château?’
Ingrid smiled. ‘It’s a family heirloom. Came down through Peter’s family, together with the family bible.’ She pointed to the taller of the men. ‘He’s Edward Chevalier, Peter’s great-grandfather, and this is his brother, Charles, and his younger sister, Bernadette. We think it was painted about a year before the First World War when the two of them went off to fight. Sadly, only Edward returned; Charles was killed early on in the war.’
‘And their sister?’
‘Unfortunately, we have no idea what happened to her,’ Ingrid said. ‘Her name and date of birth, 1896, had been scratched over in the family bible.’
‘Oh, that is so sad,’ Sasha said. ‘She looks so beautiful in that portrait.’
‘Peter suspects that she probably married against her parents’ wishes and was disinherited. He’s been unable to unearth any leads about what happened to her at all.’
‘You mentioned the family bible; do you still have it?’
Ingrid nodded. ‘Yes. When we bought the château, Peter’s parents thought our small library would be a fitting home for it. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you.’
Sasha followed Ingrid up to the wide landing with its huge arched window throwing light down the length of the marble staircase. Sasha stopped to take a closer look at the antique wooden rocking horse placed in front of it. She touched its worn saddle. ‘I wonder how many children have sat on him through the years, dreaming of riding adventures. I always wanted one. Was this Peter’s too?’
Ingrid shook her head. ‘No. I found this in a second-hand shop in a nearby village and couldn’t resist it.’ She glanced at Sasha. ‘I’ve never been particularly into horses, but since we bought the château, I keep finding horse memorabilia everywhere. It seems to leap out at me, saying, “I belong in the Château du Cheval” and I have to buy it. It’s quite strange.’ She turned to show Sasha the library. ‘It’s a bit of a misnomer to describe this room as a library at the moment, as it only has the one barrister bookcase with a few volumes in it, but there will be more eventually. I’ve tried to make it inviting and calm, somewhere pleasant to sit in and lose yourself in a novel for an hour or two. At least that’s how I hope guests will feel about it.’
‘I want to book a holiday here just for this room,’ Sasha said, gazing around. ‘It’s amazing. It feels so luxurious and inviting. I can just imagine curling up in here for a good read.’
The same golden oak panelling as downstairs was echoed around the room and in the parquet flooring. A marble fireplace, paper, kindling and logs were already in place, and a full log basket to the side dominated one end of the large space. Ahuge cream wool rug with three different flower motifs – roses, hydrangeas, oleanders – repeated in the twenty squares created across its surface, stretched from in front of the fireplace into the centre of the room. A three-seater green velvet sofa had been placed facing the fire. Four curved recesses were spaced down the wall facing the full-length windows, with their heavy green velvet drapes matching the settee. Around the sides, there were various upholstered seats, small tables, two or three brass standard lights placed strategically near chairs, and a tabletop glass chandelier on the small writing bureau in the far corner. There was even a pair of library steps ready for when the alcoves were filled with volumes.
‘Is this the family bible?’ Sasha asked, walking across to the barrister bookcase with its glass-fronted doors and pointing at a closed, thick, leather-bound tome with a brass clasp.
‘Yes,’ Ingrid said. ‘We keep it closed because we don’t want the sunlight fading the pages, and we decided to lock the bookcase itself to stop any guests unintentionally damaging it. I’ll have to show you properly another day, I’ve forgotten to bring the key up with me.’
Ingrid’s phone buzzed with a text and she gave it a quick glance.
‘Supper is ready. We’d best get back down.’
As they walked into the kitchen, Peter was placing a round dish on the table.
‘Smells delicious,’ Sasha said. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s flamiche,’ Ingrid said. ‘Peter’s mother gave me her recipe as it’s one of Peter’s favourite suppers. Very French and very easy to make. Basically, it’s leeks and cream in puff pastry. Hope you like it. Help yourself to salad.’
The flamiche was delicious, as was the lemon meringue cheesecake that followed.
‘Does your daughter visit often?’ Sasha asked, shaking her head as Peter offered her another glass of wine. ‘No, thank you.’
‘We’d hoped she’d move over with us,’ Ingrid said quietly. ‘But she’s happy where she is and she’s got a boyfriend, whom we suspect doesn’t like the idea of her joining us.’ She shrugged. ‘What will be will be. We can only live our own lives.’
It was nearly ten o’clock before Sasha and Freddie thanked Ingrid and Peter for a lovely evening, said goodnight and began their walk back to their new homes under a moonlit sky.
‘They’re really nice aren’t they, the Chevaliers? Such a shame that Peter can’t trace what happened to his great-aunt Bernadette,’ Sasha said.
‘Sorry I missed seeing the inside of the château,’ Freddie said.
‘It’s wonderful. I’d love to have a holiday there. Who was your call from?’
‘My replacement at work. Wanted to know where a couple of things were. I left all the information in the handbook but…’ Freddie shrugged. ‘Takes time to settle into a new job.’
Sasha tilted her head up and turned around in a circle, looking at the sky. ‘So many stars. There’s no light pollution at all – and the moon is so bright.’ She sighed contentedly. ‘I’m so happy to be here. I’m sure we’ve done the right thing in moving.’
6
