The Perfumer's Secret (7 page)

Again, I was making this about me, I realised, and admonished myself. My father would be ashamed to listen in on my selfish thoughts, which now quickly rearranged themselves to focus on what was truly important.

Felix might be hurt . . . Henri too. They could be killed: a stray bullet, an unlucky shell, disease, starvation . . . If I could take back all my sourness and loathing of today, I would. If absorbing it, reliving today with a smile and glad heart might change this evening, I would accept that burden in a heartbeat and romp into bed with Aimery, if it meant the declaration of war might change.

Why was I bargaining like this? What a useless waste of energy.

After stopping various staff, I found my husband in the side courtyard delivering brisk orders to the youngest stablehand. ‘Aimery?’ My voice was noticeably tender and I could see him register it as new from the way he swung around.

He gave the reins over to the nearby stable lad and strode up to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I can’t say I felt affection, but this was a step up from earlier. I was in a neutral state with my affections but my emotions were escalating. It meant I couldn’t find the right words for this moment. What was I supposed to say? Lie and tell him I would miss him? Or remain impartial and utter placations like ‘Stay safe’? My hesitation left it to Aimery to fill the awkward pause.

‘I have to change into uniform and leave, Fleurette. We’re gathering at the barracks but leaving in the early hours and we have plenty to organise in between now and then. My
fascicule de mobilisation
strictly requires me to leave.’ He pulled a watch from his fob pocket.

Perhaps I gave a look of doubt.

‘As an officer,’ he reinforced, ‘I set the example. Imagine how it looks when their superior leaves on his wedding night; it shows my commitment and will inspire them to follow their duty as rigorously.’

How heroic, I heard myself in bitter thoughts. This was clearly about how he might appear and how he might inflate a legend around himself. Nevertheless it saved me from what I most feared. He was waiting for me to say something. I blinked. ‘You’re riding to the barracks?’ Nothing quite so irritating as stating the obvious.

But Aimery was more caught up in his courageous act. ‘No coach drivers,’ he qualified.

And it will look so brave, of course, I thought, if you arrive at the station urgently, cantering loudly across the cobbles on your steed, having deserted your marital bed on your wedding night. ‘Monsieur Blanc has packed for you,’ I blurted. ‘He seemed to know what he was doing.’

Aimery gave a wolfish grin. ‘Froze you out, did he?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s his world. I’ve only just arrived. Best I let everyone get used to me.’

‘Wise girl,’ he admitted and kissed the top of my head.

Curiously, I found that show of affection more endearing than anything Aimery had ever said or done. While none of his theatrical exhibitions of today had impressed me, this simple, private peck felt sincere.

‘Aimery . . . ’

He waited.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘The war —’ he began.

‘I don’t mean the war. I’m sorry that I’ve been’ — I wondered what the right word was — ‘reluctant,’ I settled on. ‘I wish I could change it, but . . . ’

He seemed to understand and pulled me close. I wanted to feel love – even a trickle of fondness might have helped in this moment – but I felt nothing other than relief that I didn’t have to lie naked beneath him tonight.

‘I don’t plan on getting killed, Fleurette, so let’s start again when we can. We’re married. No one can take that away.’

‘The civil ceremony —’

‘Yes, unfortunate. But we haven’t consummated our marriage, my dear, so spiritually you can feel smug. I shall attend to that paperwork the moment I can get some leave. Perhaps the war is well timed.’

‘What can you possibly mean by that?’

‘Well . . . I probably frightened you this evening too. I haven’t been sensitive. I suppose I’m used to —’

‘Graciela?’

Aimery’s eyes glowered from the pale of his face, darkness surrounding us like a shroud. We both seemed to shift effortlessly from polite exchanges to warning growls in a heartbeat.

‘Don’t speak of her,’ he muttered.

But I wasn’t to be put off easily, even though this was neither the time nor the place to be having such an earnest conversation. It spilled from me. ‘I wish you’d married someone you loved. You should have married Graciela.’

His hand squeezed my arm. It wasn’t painful but I felt the pressure enough to snap open my eyes to attention. ‘I married
you
, Fleurette. And you know why. Become resigned to it. Your apology meant something just now but what I feel for Graciela is not your concern. Please do not utter her name again.’

Now my arm was hurting; I refused to show it, though. Years of growing up with brothers had taught me to fight back. Years of knowing Aimery to be a bully reminded me to never to be fooled by even a moment of unguarded emotion. And that’s what his fleeting kiss and embrace had been – a heartbeat of weakness.

‘So we have a business arrangement, is that what you’re saying, Aimery?’

‘If you wish. Let’s just not pretend there’s any great romantic love lost between us.’

I opened my mouth to say more but he gripped my arm harder and the words died.

‘That doesn’t mean we can’t find a level of tolerance, perhaps even fondness, and it doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the fact that the Delacroix girl is now Madame De Lasset. I am prepared to treat you lavishly, Fleurette. All I ask is that you behave as a wife should in every respect.’

‘And that I never utter her name again,’ I said. My tone was bitter deliberately.

‘Exactly. Fast learned. Excellent, Fleurette. Now.’ He loosened his grip, running his palm down the length of my arm until he held my hand. Anyone observing, including the stable lad, would have seen nothing but a tender moment between new husband and wife, as Aimery bent over my hand and kissed it gently. ‘Hug your husband farewell and hurry off to kiss your brothers goodbye too.’

‘What about your brother?’ I asked, defiance dancing in my voice. ‘He sent me a wedding gift.’

He ignored that fact. ‘I gather from a curt telegram that he couldn’t reach us because he was stopped at Gare de Lyon railway station in Paris by the same news that is mobilising us. I presume he’ll be scuttling back to London as fast as he can. I’m glad. I had no desire to lay eyes on him anyway.’

I didn’t mention the letter. The way Sébastien had scrawled
Private
on the front and back suggested he wanted only me to read it. I’d get to it when I could. ‘So where do you go?’

‘Well, unlike your brothers in the No 24e, who will have to gather at Villefranche, I have the convenience of the local barracks,’ he said, moving towards his horse. ‘Nevertheless, the 23e will have a long journey to make later today.’

I frowned. ‘Will Sébastien fight in the French army?’

‘Who knows? I imagine he will claim British status, but if I see him,’ he said, affecting his most dry and cutting tone, ‘should I offer my best wishes?’

‘Please do,’ I replied in a cringingly polite retort. Newly wed, our wedding night unfulfilled; I should have been hanging on to him, weeping, while he bravely unfurled my fingers from his arms. Instead I effected a stoic countenance for the purposes of onlookers. I was aware of my seesawing emotions but while I did not wish Aimery any harm, I still felt nothing akin to romantic affection towards him and his attitude only helped me in that clarification. ‘So, you’re headed to the station?’

‘Yes, once we’ve packed up ammunition, ration packs and the like at the barracks.’ He held up his papers. ‘Acts as a railway warrant as much as my orders. I gather some of the orders to move will be staggered to avoid a bottleneck but I certainly shall be gone on the first available train as mine is a two-hundred-mile journey.’

‘Goodbye, Aimery,’ I said, sounding brave.

‘Farewell, Fleurette. You should invite some of my female cousins to stay – two will surely want to escape Paris and it will stop you feeling lonely.’

How could I tell him that I’d rather not make that invitation, but it seemed he didn’t require a response, continuing his thoughts.

‘The first leave I get I shall return to our unfinished business.’

He winked and the pit of my stomach opened up and fresh dread was released. How could I have felt that tender compassion a few moments ago when now all the loathing was back?

I watched him swing easily into his saddle to seat himself, straight-backed and proud in his uniform. He glanced at me and then his gaze cut away. ‘Lead on,’ he said to the stable boy, who was swinging a lantern to light his master’s way. The boy skipped ahead and I watched Aimery knee his horse forward. A message had obviously rippled through the staff that the remaining member of the De Lasset family was departing.

However, it was now only women who lined the gravel drive, some holding candles as if to illuminate their master’s heroic moment. The festivity of our marriage hung around them in white bows and flagged bunting, at odds with their collectively grave expression. Hands were clasped in a solemn, funereal manner, and their heads bowed as Aimery triumphantly paraded by, walking his horse slowly so his audience could feel the full drama of his departure. I joined the women – what else could I do, except go along with the display of reverence for the time being?

He would be gone in moments and then I could run . . . no, flee, to my real home, and the men I really loved.

__________

I wasted no time and pulled on a shawl and scampered like a carefree child back down towards the Delacroix villa. Jeanne hurried alongside as we wound our way through the familiar lanes to the villa where similar activity had been underway, which would ultimately leave our family home feeling silent and deserted. However, I could see a light glowing in one of the rooms and all but ran there, knowing both of my brothers would have waited, would have known I would come.

I burst through the front door with barely time to pause and hug a moist-eyed Madame Girouard, who looked after our family as fiercely as a mother might care for her brood.

‘They’re in your father’s salon,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘They wouldn’t leave without seeing you.’

I gave her a smile that said we must all bear up and threw an introduction over my shoulder that this was Jeanne, my new personal maid at the ‘big house’, as we’d always termed it. I didn’t bother to knock, flinging the door open theatrically, because I was in a hurry, I had to see them, hug them . . .

‘Fleurette!’ It was Felix, moving quickly to scoop me up and twirl me around in a hug before placing me back on the firm floor, with an Aubusson rug between my boots and the parquet. Why I noticed its pale prettiness of creams, greens and pinks of luxuriant flower bouquets in this moment, or how it felt out of context in my father’s richer-coloured chamber, I don’t know. My father had told me it was our mother’s and he knew how much she adored it, so he liked to keep it close. Father would also want me close now – it was right that I was here.

‘Thank you for waiting,’ I choked out. Suddenly all the emotion of the day seemed to collect into an arrow point of this tinglingly frightening moment, which felt as though it was piercing my heart. ‘Aimery’s gone to the barracks to organise everything.’

They nodded together, sadly.

‘Presumably he’ll see you before he leaves Grasse so that you and . . .’ Henri began but seemed to think better of it. I couldn’t tell him I wanted nothing more than Aimery gone.

I eyed Felix. He squeezed my hand. ‘We don’t have much time.’

‘Are they not staggering the mobilisation? Won’t there be bottlenecks all over France if everyone leaves in the same moment?’

Felix laughed. ‘Our orders say we must be with the 24e regiment at Villefranche within ten hours of the declaration. That’s now. We’re risking being late. Won’t do for officers.’

I think at any other time I might have shed some tears but right now, staring at my brothers, feeling lost and rudderless, those tears felt redundant and my eyes remained dry. I was glad of it, for it seemed to hearten the only family I had left.

‘We shall have to count on you to run the house in our absence,’ Henri said. He looked to be still in a state of shock. ‘You do it with ease anyway.’

‘I shall run both. Don’t think on it again, Henri,’ I assured. ‘It’s safe in my care until you return. Have you seen Catherine?’

He nodded, looking on the verge of tears. Henri cleared his throat, perhaps reaching the same conclusion of wasted emotion. ‘Briefly. Everyone’s getting family away. There’s barely time for the others we love in our life.’

‘Her brothers. Yes, of course – both going?’

Henri nodded miserably. ‘Her family seems to think because I’m an officer in the same regiment I can wave a magic wand and keep her brothers safe.’ Henri stood, running a hand carefully through his receding hair, and shook his head. ‘None of us is safe.’

‘Don’t be bleak,’ Felix warned. ‘Come on. We have to go.’

‘Can someone explain why every man of the town seems to be walking out?’ I demanded. ‘I mean, isn’t anyone considered “essential services”? I thought the fact that you’d done your two years’ ordinary training would mean you wouldn’t be called up immediately. Aren’t there enough men already in their two years’ service?’

Felix swung on a thick cape that was part of his regiment’s uniform. ‘Not enough to match Germany’s army, apparently. The prefect reminded us that because of the conscription law passed in 1905, it’s now possible to call up every able man as a “
pantalon rouge
”, including us Reservists. Gendarmes are promoting the message all over France, calling men to their colours.’

‘But how are we to run our township?’ I asked, already hearing how selfish that sounded when people were marching off to put their lives on the line to keep our borders safe. I had remained frozen to the rug and bizarrely thought of how my leaden feet would make no impression upon it because it famously had no pile. No genuine Aubusson did. In that empty-headed mindset of shock, meaningful words deserted me. ‘Anyway, you both look very fine in your uniforms.’