One Night at the Château

Prologue

It sits there in the shade of the cypress tree, the Chateau Villette, hiding from the heat of the mid-afternoon sun. If you looked at it through half-closed eyes, perhaps sleepy from an indulgent lunch and two glasses of rosé, you would see pale blue shutters embracing the deep windows, two stone staircases leading up to the front door and twin turrets with pointed pepper-pot roofs at either end.

You wouldn’t notice the cracks in the plaster, or the faded wallpaper, or the overgrown flower beds that once bloomed with roses, for its beauty is radiant, and overshadows its flaws.

The chateau is rumoured to have been built for Napoleon’s beautiful but frivolous sister Pauline, the perfect playground for her amatory antics. But it’s been asleep for a while now. Not fast asleep, but dozing, waiting to feel life again within its thick walls. And laughter. And love. It thrives on people, and longs for the scent of lobster bisque to fill the air, and the sound of popping corks. To hear voices floating up the grand staircase, the tip-tap of high heels coming down. Music, perhaps – the grand piano has long gone, but there might be another one day?

The chateau knows it must be patient. It must wait for the right person to come along. It dozes and dreams, wondering who it might be? Who might push open the rusty gates and make their way up the winding drive, then turn the corner and fall deeply, madly in love at first sight?

The chateau wants to be loved again, for it has so much love to give back.