Blue Moon #3 (Story of Us Series - Into the Blue) - Sydney Jamesson Page 0,91
eases and the hum of the engine becomes no more than a purr. Thankfully, the Château de Péons estate is large enough to accommodate a helicopter landing. Assuming the peacocks scatter in good time, this oversized bird will land without incident, becoming nothing more than an aluminium blot on a rural landscape.
I’m expected. The butler recognises me from our earlier visit. He’s dressed formally in a kind of morning suit and gloves; the only item of attire missing is the hat.
Is he for real?
He outstretches his arm, directing me inside. Even from the rear the property looks like something out of a child’s fairy-tale; chalk white with spires and arched doorways, resembling portals to the past. Down below is the river snaking its way through the vineyard and the coppice to the right. I can see for miles and miles, as far as the horizon where blue sky blends seamlessly into green pastures.
“Please follow me, sir.” He sets off at a pace.
“No. I’ll wait here. Please ask Madam Duvall to join me. She’s expecting me.” I walk in the opposite direction, heading for a wooden bench, a vantage point from which we can take in the view and soak up the atmosphere. I’m already breathing deeply, but that may have more to do with feeling anxious than any instinctive need to inflate my lungs with clean air.
I hear her approaching, her heels ricocheting on the stone path like firecrackers. I turn to face her, taken aback by her striking appearance; a Parisian beauty, even now, wearing a handmade dress in deep claret—a vivid contrast to her black hair and stunning blue eyes.
“Good morning, Ayden. Are you in need of some fresh air?” She kisses my cheeks, right and left.
“I’ve been cooped up in airports and aircraft since nine o’clock this morning. This is as good a place as any to have a conversation.” I usher her towards the wooden bench.
“Quite so.” She dusts off the seat with a handkerchief. “You seem to have made quite an entrance.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you, Madam. One of the many trappings of success: a private jet, a helicopter, fast cars, fancy clothes…” Together we watch the rotor blades slow and grind to a halt.
She turns to examine my suit with the educated eye of one accustomed to all that is considered first-class in her world. “Armani?”
“Yes. You have a good eye, but then again, you’ve been surrounded by wealth and beauty for most of your life.”
A whisper of a smile forms then fades as if caught on the breeze. “You would think that, but it has not always been that way.”
“But you have this…” I look up to the imposing spires of the chateau. “And there’s the vineyard…”
“Mmm. That is the case now, but there was a time—when I was young—when this house was no more than a shell.” She raises her hand and wafts it in the direction of the furthest spire. “When I was a child, we lived in a small part of it. My father refused to sell… why should he? It had been in his family for generations. Times were hard and we sold many things that had remained in our family for centuries merely to survive.”
I had no idea.
“I see. So what turned things around? The vineyard? A good year…?”
“Non. Monsieur Duvall.” Lost in her memories, her eyes remain fixed on the horizon.
“Ah.”
“He invested in it.”
Her turn of phrase causes me to smile. “Invested in it? That’s one way of describing his involvement with your family. He was your husband. Surely he had a vested interest—in you?”
She smiles weakly. “Yes, of course.”
I raise my chin boldly. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?”
She nods.
“After everything that’s happened to Beth and me, I’ve decided it’s time for everyone to come clean, to start afresh. We’re about to have a family of our own, and I want our children to grow up in a world where there are no secrets—at least as far as their immediate family are concerned. There have been too many secrets in my past. I intend to unearth them and move on.”
“How very admirable of you. You do realise, though, there are some secrets that are better left buried, Ayden.” She tucks a strand of raven black hair behind her ear.
I shake my head. “I disagree. We’ve been to hell and back. There is little left that would shock us and nothing that will ever come between us.”