The Perfumer's Secret (31 page)

Both of the officials frowned, nodding their understanding.

Sébastien pushed the hair away from his face with a sigh. ‘Either way, it was the only chance I had and I took it. I used my cane to bring him down but all I managed to do was enrage him. I might have fractured his wrist but it didn’t even slow him. He tossed his revolver aside and before I knew it he’d drawn his dagger,’ he said, nodding to where the trench-fashioned stiletto with its evil-looking triangular blade was still gripped in his dead fingers. Sébastien glanced at his slashed bandages and fresh blood. ‘I managed to get my arm in the way of his strike but he was determined to kill me, to kill us all, probably. None of us can guess what was going on in his mind but his accusations suggest he was hearing demons as Madame De Lasset suggests. In the ensuing struggle I had no choice but to grab his revolver and use it on him.’

‘A very clean shot, sir,’ the policeman observed.

Sébastien shrugged. ‘I could hardly miss.’

I couldn’t look at Graciela, although I wondered if she was reliving killing the man she loved with such obsession.

‘It was either him or me, gentlemen. I can only speculate at his intentions for the women, had he brought me down with that killing blade. There was no doubt he aimed to kill. Aimery had clearly gone mad at the Front.’

The two officials were silent. They glanced at the two corpses, back up at us; Graciela and I genuinely wore expressions of trauma as we held on to each other, and their shared gaze finally came back to rest on Sébastien, bleeding, collected, awaiting their instructions. The two most powerful families in Grasse were involved in this terrible event; I suspected neither of these men wanted anything more than to have an uncomplicated summary as fast as possible. I imagined neither would want to cloud the issue with more questions than necessary. If all of us were saying this is what happened, then that is what happened.

It was not that the mayor didn’t believe us, I don’t think, but he wanted to close this messy scene of death with a clear and concise judgement. ‘Let me get this clear, Monsieur De Lasset. This was self-defence?’

‘What else could it be?’ Sébastien snapped, allowing his calm composure to slip. I was sure it was deliberate. The straight-backed, stiff-upper-lipped, tally-ho English side of Sébastien surely outweighed the more emotional and demonstrative French blood that ran in his veins. ‘He may well have killed these helpless women and me in the bargain.’

The mayor made a clicking sound of despair with his tongue and the policeman shook his head.

‘This is a dreadful business,’ the policeman offered into the gloom. ‘I’m so sorry for your losses, Madame De Lasset. Clearly a most sorrowful turn of events for everyone.’

‘And Grasse has lost two of its finest sons today,’ the mayor added in a mournful tone. ‘Ladies, please, let us take care of the fallen.’

Graciela urged me out of the doors and I dared not look at Sébastien although I knew he would be willing me to hold my nerve.

We shared a collective lie now, but this was one I could surely live with in order to protect Graciela and, indeed, Aimery’s memory for Grasse.

__________

I was driven back to the house alongside Graciela by a carriage summoned by the policeman and deposited into the collectively stunned bosom of the staff, who fussed and covered me with shawls and rubbed my hands to get my blood moving less sluggishly around my body. I was definitely slipping into shock. I was vaguely aware of Graciela’s explanation to the household that was met with gasps of horror, even some outright cries of disbelief.

‘Dead?’ someone queried as if Graciela was somehow having a jest.

Her deep voice assured them it was not one but two men deceased, both brave soldiers and, yes, one of them was definitely Monsieur Aimery De Lasset. People hovered, were encouraged to leave by the more senior in the staff and by Graciela, who appeared to have herself entirely in control despite her involvement in the morning’s sorrows and her private grief.

Another cognac arrived. The vapours revolted me. I didn’t think in that moment I would ever smell cognac again without the ugly scene of murder being conjured once more in my mind and I would now forever associate it with blood, despair and loss. I pushed away the offering without explanation.

‘Warm milk,’ I heard the housekeeper instruct, snapping her fingers, reminding me of earlier . . . when Felix was still alive. ‘And, Jeanne, stoke that fire higher.’

‘We need some quiet time, please,’ Graciela demanded as I stared into the flames as Felix had only an hour earlier. Like him, I suppose I looked for some sort of explanation to the horror but none came. Nevertheless, the flickering warmth helped to soothe me into a near trance. It brought peace; my breathing slowed even if my mind was jangling.

Into the silence we’d held I finally spoke. ‘I don’t know what to say to you.’

‘What can you say?’

‘Thank you is necessary. My brother’s cold-blooded murder demanded retaliation.’

‘I liked Felix, I always have. But I doubt that I killed Aimery for him . . . or for you. I feel sure now that I killed him to release myself.’

I wasn’t surprised by this admission, only that she’d had the courage to follow her heart, for she had so much less invested than her three companions in the struggle. ‘You were prepared to go to jail for such a few moments of release?’

She shrugged. ‘I was prepared to murder the only man I’ve ever loved, perhaps ever will, in order to stop his abuse. I have never been more hurt than listening to him speak of me like dirt on his boots. In that terrible moment I realised that, though he loved me in his twisted way, he had always been contemptuous of me; it was as though he was disgusted at himself for needing me. I realised something else, as I watched your husband take your brother’s life so callously, and that is I have fought back from a childhood full of darkness and abuse at the hands of a man. To continue accepting abuse at the hands of another who simply wears a different face and speaks a different language but essentially is the same cruel brute makes me hate myself more than either of them. I wish I could have saved Felix for you.’

‘I cannot contemplate yet what I’ve lost.’ My lips felt numb again as though a great chill was descending on me. I could taste his blood once more in my mind. ‘Felix is . . . was the man I would be.’

‘Then be the woman he would be. Don’t let his death not count. He saved Sébastien’s life for a reason. I only have to look at you both to know something has occurred between you.’ She shrugged. ‘Felix gave you permission. Felix saved the man you love, am I right?’

I nodded, licking my unfeeling lips now of the salted tears that had dripped silently down my cheeks.

‘We are all going to be doing a lot more crying. This war will not end fast, I do not think, Fleurette. You will need to find deep strength, for the remaining man in your life is surely going back to face more battles.’

‘Both of my brothers,’ I murmured in escalating disbelief.

Graciela was at my side, crouching to hold my hands before she reached up to pull my face so that my attention focused on her. ‘There’s only weakness where your mind is headed, dear Fleurette. Your family, the two great households, and even Grasse need you to live up to your name of Delacroix. I need you to show me that the promising defiant spirit I sensed in you is going to rise now and carry you through the most difficult of times. You are a woman. Don’t you know that women bear the greatest sorrows of all? You are not the only woman grieving in this town but you must set the example of courage and tenacity. Lead Grasse, live up to all your promise.’

Stirring words that summed up Graciela. Here she was bearing up under life’s greatest sorrow of not only losing the person she loved most but her memory of pulling the trigger that brought his death would be a lifetime sentence of misery for her. It didn’t matter that Sébastien had protected the truth of manslaughter. She was a prisoner of the truth from now on anyway.

‘I’m sorry for you,’ I whispered.

‘Show me how sorry you are for me,’ she goaded.

I frowned at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I know the shock is fresh now but don’t be a slave to your sadness. Just promise me that. Let me be witness to your empowerment so that I can live with the knowledge that I killed Aimery to stop him, to free you . . . to free everyone from his influence.’

‘Grieve alone, you mean . . . in private,’ I qualified.

She pointed to my chest and nodded. ‘Yes, in here. It’s your pain. No one else’s.’

It was tough advice and there was nothing easy about her demand but curiously her challenge did make me feel stronger, more able to take control. I couldn’t really think on Felix, or on anything right now. It felt overwhelming: too much at once. I couldn’t imagine how our men were coping with so many deaths, so much destruction and fear at once at the Front. It struck me then that even if they did survive, they’d all be damaged in one way or another. Demons would haunt any survivors forever. In time I would separate out the shock I was feeling now into compartments in my mind and examine each, better prepared for the pain or the guilt.

‘And you?’

‘I will wait to be told my outcome. If Sébastien has convinced them well enough, then it is purely self-defence. In this there is no lie, yes? If he ultimately shares the truth, then I too could claim self-defence. Potentially at worst I might be accused of a crime of passion.’

‘Henriette Caillaux,’ we both said together. It was a reference to an infamous case earlier that year when a wealthy socialite from a family we knew calmly delivered six gunshots into the editor of
Le Figaro
to stop him publishing incriminating letters of her affair with the man she later married, when they were both married to other people. I had admired Henriette’s courage and fierce determination to defend the man she loved.

‘It won’t come to that,’ I assured. ‘Sébastien even convinced me of his version.’

She nodded.

‘You’re like Henriette,’ I said.

Graciela shrugged. ‘I can’t see how; I killed the man I loved rather than his enemy.’

‘I mean you share her passion, your ferocity, your lack of care for the consequences to you. In a way, I suppose you’ve done Aimery a favour and saved him from himself. He was his own enemy.’

She nodded. ‘And now you’ve found me out,’ she sighed. ‘It went through my mind in those horrifying seconds that there was no way out for Aimery. I didn’t think your dear brother would survive the gun wound and I realised that Aimery would be accused of murder . . . manslaughter at best. He could not hide behind self-defence as I might so he would surely be executed for murder or jailed for killing a man. By pulling that trigger on Felix, he was effectively taking his own life. I simply made sure of it.’

‘And it keeps his reputation intact as a war hero,’ I murmured, all of Graciela’s rationale, which she had summarised in fleeting moments and under extreme pressure, falling into place now. I suppose, standing aside from the tense words of this morning, she’d had an opportunity to see the situation with greater clarity than the rest of us had. Even so, she’d thought fast and made a traumatic decision. ‘Can you live with yourself?’

She took a few moments to consider my question. ‘I can,’ she finally replied. ‘Because everyone is better off for it.’

‘Except you.’

‘I couldn’t have watched him executed for murder. I couldn’t have borne to visit him in jail for the rest of his life.’

I nodded. That was easy enough to grasp for anyone.

‘This way was best. It protects his name, his reputation. Now he’ll be remembered for being understandably drunk and making a terrible mistake, but his status as a war hero is not tarnished. His family name and business is secure.’

There was a tap at the door and Sébastien entered with Madame Mouflard in tow. We both stood, no doubt concern on our faces, and I had to resist running to him. He looked pale, his expression filled with grief.

‘Thank you, Madame Mouflard,’ I said. ‘We need nothing,’ I added, before she could ask. ‘Except quiet.’

She bowed and withdrew.

Now I did hurry into his arms. I didn’t weep, I didn’t make a sound, I just held him and we communicated our despair and grief, our love, our pain, all through that embrace, finally parting to look at my friend.

‘You appear more composed than either of us, Graciela,’ Sébastien said, stepping aside from me to walk over and give the Spaniard a long hug, which she accepted without flinching.

‘It’s an act,’ she said in a husky tone and found a brave smile.

‘Well, you impress the hell out of me and would make a great soldier.’ He kissed each of her cheeks. ‘Thank you for saving my life.’

‘I think perhaps you have saved mine, or at least your actions have brought some clarity to mine.’

He frowned.

‘Fleurette will explain,’ she added.

I was trembling, reality sinking in. ‘Where is Felix?’ I asked, shaking as I tried to keep myself busy, pouring Sébastien a glass of cognac, holding my breath to avoid the scented fumes. I handed off the glass and he swallowed the slug in a single gulp, closing his eyes against the fiery sensation of its swift journey down. I felt sickened, imagining its taste as it travelled his gut. It was the taste of death for me now.

‘He’s been taken to the mortuary; so has Aimery. I held Felix’s hand for you until he was put into the carriage.’

I felt the tears prick but refused them. I nodded my thanks, not able to speak at that moment.

He turned to Graciela. ‘I did the same for Aimery. He was, after all, my kin. And I know you loved him.’

‘Thank you, Sébastien. You are a good man. You will make Fleurette a good husband in time.’ We both inhaled audibly. ‘Well, don’t deny it. The pathway is cleared. Walk it, or make a mockery of this morning.’ She pointed at me. ‘Your brother died for it – don’t deny it.’ She switched her attention to Sébastien. ‘And, even if it does require you to ease the town into understanding, your brother’s death makes it possible for you to love his wife.’

I didn’t want to discuss this now but Graciela was confronting as ever. However, she didn’t know the facts. We held secrets upon secrets but Felix had urged us that the truth need not come out and do any more damage. We could hold the truth back, keep our two family reputations intact, and still have each other. He was right. The reality of Aimery’s parentage would remain in the safekeeping of Sébastien and myself. Graciela did not need to be informed; no one did.