Chapter 36
36
15 DECEMBER
The next evening, I’m tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. My mind spins from Noah to the hotel soft launch and lack of bookings, to money and everything in between. Eventually, I give up and wrench the covers back. I pull on my robe and find the key for the secret library.
I go through the books once more, looking for titles by men this time. I’m hoping to stumble on a range of books by the same author, an entire collection. I take my time but find nothing that fits.
There must be one clue, something in this room that will point the way to who she was. I sit at the desk and pull open the drawers. At the back I find a small notebook, more like a jotter than a journal. There is a scribble of names; could be character names? Maybe guests from the hotel? Did she use her assumed name when she dined downstairs in the restaurant, make up a whole fiction for her past? Or were her meals ferried to her here?
I flick through the jotter.
Chateau Beauchêne in disrepair.
It stands out because the handwriting is different from all the other samples. It’s as if someone left her a note on her jotter. I take my phone and google the name of the chateau to see if it’s a real place. I get a hit and click the link.
Chateau Beauchêne in the region of Bergerac is now derelict, almost a ruin.
I speed read the article that mentions it was once owned by a prominent family at the turn of the twentieth century before the owner, Benjamin Marceaux, let it fall into disrepair after the disappearance of his wife, Chloe. It goes on to say Benjamin Marceaux was a famous novelist who couldn’t bring himself to write ever again after his wife’s mysterious disappearance.
Chloe! Is she our writer?
The lights in the room flicker.
The reason he couldn’t write was because the wordsmith was her! I’m sure he garnered a lot of sympathy for that absolute lie about his writing too. I’ve read many a Benjamin Marceaux novel! They’re on the syllabus at most high schools, having been translated and studied around the world, as famous as novels that came later, like To Kill a Mockingbird , or Catcher in the Rye. Did this Chloe actually write those books that have stood the test of time?
I check the shelves for books by Benjamin Marceaux, but don’t find any. Do I go and find Noah? I check the time. It’s just past midnight on Friday; his bar might still be open. I call his mobile, and he answers after the first ring.
‘ Bonsoir ,’ I say. ‘Sorry to call so late. But I’ve found something. Can you come to the hotel now?’ My words come out in a rushed jumble.
‘ Oui, of course. I’m about to lock up for the night.’
‘Great. Meet you at the front door.’ I dash downstairs to change out of my PJs. I check my reflection and swipe on some lip gloss, my heart thumping against my ribs. Chloe! Have we found you?
I unlock the front door and let Noah through. A gust of wind blows the door open and I fight to close it. Noah stands behind me and helps push it shut. I can feel the heat of his body against mine and my legs go weak. Focus on Chloe!
When we get the door closed, I lock up and explain what I found scribbled on the jotter as we make our way upstairs.
‘So I googled the chateau and an article popped up. According to that, his wife “Chloe” disappeared one day and he never wrote again. The chateau eventually fell into disrepair.’ My words tumble out fast as my body thrums with adrenaline. I don’t know if that’s because of Noah’s proximity or the idea we might have found our mysterious writer – probably both!
‘Chloe! You’ve found her?’
My eyes go bright with tears. ‘I think so!’
‘And what was his name?’
‘Benjamin Marceaux!’
‘ The Benjamin Marceaux? Mon Dieu! ’
‘ Oui, it’s…’
‘It’s huge , Anais. If Chloe did pen the Benjamin Marceaux novels and never got attributed for them, this is one huge literary wrong.’
‘That we’re going to right!’
Back in the secret library, we sit together on the bed. I take my phone and google the name Benjamin Marceaux. I click the link to ‘his’ collection of works. ‘This says he wrote books for children originally before pivoting into books for adults. According to this website, his children’s books received a mediocre reception. It was when he turned his hand to a more mature style that literary critics took notice. Is that when he married his Chloe?’
Noah nods, his face bright with excitement. ‘ Oui , it must be.’
I search for her name and find nothing. Not one mention. The lights flicker again.
I gaze up. ‘It’s her!’
‘A sign from Chloe?’ Noah, says. ‘Stranger things have happened.’
I search once more for Benjamin Marceaux and find an article that celebrates his life and achievements. There’s a timeline we can work off. ‘This says he married Chloe in 1910. OK, so that’s later than we imagined. And she disappeared in 1924. He told investigators she suffered from “female hysteria” because she’d been unable to bear children and it had left a mark on her. Oh, wasn’t he just a prince! It goes on to say this was a common malady, so investigators closed the case, suspecting the woman had taken her own life. The husband never wrote again. He claimed this was due to losing the love of his life, but we know that it was because the real author was safe and warm and away from his clutches right here in the secret library. He moved another woman into the chateau in 1928 but later lost everything after some bad business decisions. He abandoned the chateau and died penniless in Bordeaux; even his royalty income couldn’t pay the debts he’d racked up.’
‘Ah, oui , I remember reading about that story! I believe he got caught up in some bad business, but I can’t remember what it was. Gambling, maybe? Even though his life ended in such disarray, he was hailed a literary genius. A haunted literary genius who could have gone on to even greater things, had his wife not disappeared and ruined him. When, in reality, it was she who was the literary genius.’
‘Well, we presume . How do we prove it for sure?’
‘We go through this library with a fine-tooth comb.’
‘Now?’
‘Who needs sleep?’
I laugh, slightly hysterically, but I’m wired at the idea we might be able to right a literary wrong that has survived for a hundred years. If we’re correct in our assumptions, Benjamin Marceaux has been hailed a genius when he was nothing of the sort. In fact, he robbed the world of Chloe’s literary genius, and thus those history books need to be rewritten.