Page 75 of Ravishing Camille
Three hours later, they climbed down to the quay inside the tiny Tours railway station. Their trip to Amboise by horse-drawn coach took another hour.
She’d slept on the train trip, leaning against Pierce in their first-class compartment. She felt at peace with him on the train journey, having escaped the tensions of keeping this affair from their family. At his nudge and urging that they had arrived in Tours, she awoke refreshed. But at once wary of the moments to come, she could not look him in the eye. Dreaming of this for so long, the first thing she had always thought she’d do would be to make love to him. And now…now that the time was nigh, she worried that she would not know what to do or how or when to invite him to her bed.
As they approached on the north side of the river, the town spread across the wide Loire and the red brick curtain wall of the fortress of the medieval French kings, the Palace of Amboise spread along the banks.
“Oh,” she said and squeezed his hand. “That is stunning. May we go inside?”
“I’ve no idea. I’m sorry. I did not think to ask my friend. I’ll ask about in the town.”
“Thank you.” If he became bored with her, they could divert themselves with contemplating historical treasure. Or go back to Paris.
The coach crossed the little bridge and passed through the cobbled streets. A small patisserie sat on one corner, a cafe on another. A little girl sold flowers on the green. Then the village fell away and a long limestone wall curved into a circular drive to the front of a small chateau with the charm of the French Rococo and the colors of rose and white.
“It’s lovely,” she told him.
And he answered with a tight smile. “We have two servants at our disposal. A major domo and his wife who live in a small house to one side of the vegetable garden. The man is our butler and his wife, our cook. They are discreet and not in attendance in the chateau except for the mornings.”
“Monsieur Barrère,” Pierce greeted the young man when they stepped from the coach. “I am your guest, Mister Hanniford.”
“My wife,” the caretaker said in English, then with a nod at both Pierce and Camille, he turned toward his wife. “We are happy to receive you, sir.MonsieurDe La Croixwrote to tell us you will stay for five days. Is this correct?”
“Indeed. My friend,MademoiselleBereston, and I are not demanding. A good breakfast, Coffee, bread and jams. An early evening dinner.”
“My wife is an excellent cook,Monsieur,Mademoiselle. If there is anything you would like, we are at your service. And if you need anything at all that we have not provided, do come to us in our little house. We will happily provide.”
At that he helped the coachman down with their two trunks and left the two of them to enter the chateau together.
The house was an elegant but cavernous creature. With two salons, one pale blue the other peach, one as grand as the other, the house trailed onward to a huge dining room fit to seat twenty at the long table. A smaller dining room stood at the back of the house and led onto a glassed-in orangerie whose doors opened to a veranda. The kitchen led off that small dining room. From the sunny orangerie, one could see the small house where the Barrères lived.
“Shall we tour the upstairs?” Pierce asked her as if to examine the house were the most normal thing to do.
At her agreement, they took the curving staircase up. The carving on the marble pillars denoted that once the house was owned by families who spent much time hunting and fishing. Animals of every size and sort and fish of every type stood in carved relief in the white marble that led up up up to the second floor. And there, to each side, west and east were two bedrooms separated by the central corridor. Both were of the same size. Each consisted of a dressing room, a smaller linen-hung toilette for bathing, plus the main suite, the bed huge, well hung with formal drapes reminiscent of the Empire style. As in the decor below, one bedroom was pale blue, the other peach.
“Which do you prefer?” he asked her when they stood beside the huge bed in the blue room.
That took her aback and at the same time told her he would not presume anything about this liaison. “The peach. I think whoever built the house intended the separation of the sexes that way.”
“I would agree. Very well. I will inform the Barrères of that.” He strolled about, commenting on the drawers and shelvings in the blue dressing room and admiring the porcelain fittings in the toilette. He turned the handles on the side of the giant porcelain tub. “I am impressed. They have installed new plumbing for running water.” He looked up, following the line of a pipe. “Fed by a cistern to collect rain.”
“That is surprising. I hope they have it in the other room, too.” She hadn’t had presence of mind to notice.
“If they don’t, use this one.”
“I will,” she said with a grateful smile and felt the heat of a blush that crept up her cheeks.
“Why don’t you go settle in to your suite and come join me in the orangerie when you wish.”
* * *
He couldn’t believe she was suddenly shy of him. Yet her body told him it was so. And he would not force her to any act she did not wish. He’d told her and in effect, promised. That still held.
Patience was his best solution. He went about his business of settling in, taking the opportunity to test the efficiency of the running water in the basin of his shaving sink which was fed by another cistern. He smiled and changed his clothes.
Refreshed, he went downstairs to see what Madame Barrère had put out for them.
He had visited the Loire River area only a few times. Never had he been to Amboise, but he liked the looks of the little town. Quiet, compact, it sat to one side of the ancient fortress of the palace where so many French kings had ruled. Even the two Napoleons had lived there for a spell. The lure of yesteryear drew him and he’d taken little time over the years to learn more about the past. The future had always consumed him.
Now the present did.
