Chapter 5
5
As they got closer to the chateau, Sasha and Freddie followed the lights that were shining out from the side and back windows onto a flagstone path. The back door, an ancient heavy oak one, was illuminated by an old-fashioned oil lamp converted to electricity. Sasha made a mental note to try to find something similar for their cottages.
Freddie reached out and lifted the ring of the antique brass door-knocker and gave a gentle tap.
There was a short bark before they heard Ingrid call out, ‘It’s open. Come on in.’
As Freddie turned the handle on the heavy door and ushered Sasha in to a large, beautifully fitted-out kitchen, a Golden Labrador wandered over to inspect them. Sasha immediately bent down to stroke her. ‘Aren’t you beautiful?’
‘Hello, I’m Peter Chevalier. Welcome to the Chateau du Cheval from the three of us,’ Peter said as he moved forward to greet them, while Ingrid poured four flutes of champagne.
‘Gladys does like to inspect and greet everyone,’ Ingrid said.
‘We wish you every happiness in your new life in France and here in the cottages,’ Peter said, handing them each a flute.
‘Thank you.’
The four of them clinked glasses and took a sip before Sasha said, ‘Ingrid mentioned you have French ancestors – is the chateau connected to your family? Is that why you bought it?’
Peter smiled as he shook his head. ‘The French side of my family originated in northern France, but sadly my great-grandfather Edward Chevalier was the last of the line and by the time my grandparents had moved to England, there were no French relatives left alive – all gone by the beginning of the twentieth century. I did have one of those wonderful breathless moments when we moved in and a lady in the village introduced herself as Madame Chevalier. I almost stopped breathing with shock, thinking she was a long-lost relative I’d failed to discover.’ Peter shook his head. ‘Sadly, she’s not. Her family have lived in the village for a couple of generations but originally came from the Loire valley. It turns out the name Chevalier is one of the most common surnames in France. But I haven’t given up looking. It’s finding time, at the moment.’
‘So, no family connection at all to this chateau,’ Ingrid said. ‘Peter and I simply fell in love with it. What brought you two here?’
‘The need for a change of scene, a bit of an adventure,’ Freddie said. ‘And, of course, current English house prices. Buying here together definitely gave us more for our money.’
Peter nodded in agreement before changing the subject. ‘Solange said you might be looking for some work as a general handyman and gardener?’
Freddie laughed. ‘No doubt about that.’
‘I could certainly do with some gardening and general help; shall we have a chat about it tomorrow morning?’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Nine o’clock by the stables then,’ Peter said.
Ingrid glanced at the large wall clock next to the dresser. ‘Supper will be another twenty minutes; would you like to see around?’
Sasha immediately put her glass down. ‘Definitely.’
Freddie’s mobile rang at that moment. ‘Sorry, but I need to answer this. I’ll catch you up.’
Sasha followed Ingrid along a short corridor where she opened a modern fire door and they found themselves in the marble-floored foyer of the chateau, with its sweeping marble staircase in its centre reaching to the first floor and dividing left and right.
‘If we stand here with our backs to the door, we can pretend we’ve just come up the steps and in through the main entrance,’ Ingrid said. ‘The property was built towards the end of the nineteenth century so is relatively “young”, at only one hundred and fifty years old. We don’t know a lot about its history, but we do know a family called Colbert built it and ran a horse stud here. It remained in that family until after the First World War when it was sold for the first time. Sadly, the equestrian side of things slowed down between the two world wars and had virtually finished altogether by the late sixties as the estate was divided up and sold off.’
Sasha gazed around her. ‘I adore your horse statue. It’s beautiful. Was it here when you bought the chateau?’
Ingrid laughed. ‘Unfortunately, the place came with very little in the way of furniture or artefacts. Merlin here was a wonderful surprise. The stables, as they fell out of use, had become a real dumping-ground over the years for anything and everything deemed to be broken or no longer useful, and we found Merlin on his side, buried under rotting carpets and all sorts of rubbish. Restoring him was one of those additional expenses that swallowed money, and one we definitely hadn’t anticipated, but once we discovered him,’ Ingrid gave a wry smile, ‘we couldn’t not restore him,’ and she gently stroked one of Merlin’s raised forelegs. ‘The only thing we know about him is his name. There were the remains of a metal tag screwed into the base and we could just make it out. We believe, though, that he’s part of the history of the chateau. I like to think of him as our mascot, telling us that everything will be all right in the end.’
‘Did the stables need a lot of restoring too?’ Sasha said.
Ingrid sighed. ‘Thankfully, the building, like the chateau itself, is sound. But inside – again, like the chateau, only worse – was – is – a mess. We’ve only recently partially cleared the stables out to make room for a DIY livery request. There’s still a lot to sort out, as well as the tack room and the rooms above. Let’s just say they’re all on the long “when we have the time and money” to-do list.’
‘But how lovely to have at least one horse again in the stables that were clearly important to the chateau,’ Sasha said.
‘Do you ride?’ Ingrid said, hearing the wistful note in Sasha’s voice.
‘I did. Pony-mad as a young girl. Never had my own horse, though, and I haven’t ridden for ages, but I love horses,’ Sasha said. ‘The nearest I’ve got to them in recent years is sketching and painting them.’ Ingrid gave her a questioning look but Sasha shrugged. ‘That’s been pushed to one side recently too, but I’m definitely going to start painting again soon.’
Ingrid, realising Sasha wasn’t going to say any more, nodded understandingly. ‘Penny, our daughter, was pony-mad too; nothing I could say would persuade her to change to ballet.’ Ingrid laughed. ‘Do feel free to wander down to the stables at some point. I’m sure Colette, who keeps her horse there now, will be happy to chat. Maybe even let you have a ride. Now, let me show you around,’ and Ingrid led her on into the chateau. ‘As you know, we are planning on opening this summer as a chambres d’h?tes , so here we have the sitting room which leads into the dining room. We are also hoping to do some small functions in here. There is a larger room on the next floor where we will cater for bigger groups like wedding parties. And there is also an orangery on the side of the building, not visible from here, which hopefully people will book for small, intimate celebrations.’
‘This is a lovely room,’ Sasha said. The cream and pale green colour scheme complemented the honey-coloured oak panelling that lined three of the walls and was, in her eyes, perfect. She wandered over to look at an old-fashioned portrait hung by the huge inglenook fireplace, with a large silk flower arrangement standing on the hearth. Two formally suited men stood stiffly behind a beautiful young woman sitting gracefully, her dark blue gown spread out around her, and her hand, with a beautiful opal and diamond ring on her third finger, placed on the head of a white dog at her feet. ‘Do you know who these people are? Or is it just a portrait you bought to furnish the chateau?’
Ingrid smiled. ‘It’s a family heirloom. Came down through Peter’s family, together with the family bible.’ She pointed to the taller of the men. ‘He’s Edward Chevalier, Peter’s great-grandfather, and this is his brother, Charles, and his younger sister, Bernadette. We think it was painted about a year before the First World War when the two of them went off to fight. Sadly, only Edward returned; Charles was killed early on in the war.’
‘And their sister?’
‘Unfortunately, we have no idea what happened to her,’ Ingrid said. ‘Her name and date of birth, 1896, had been scratched over in the family bible.’
‘Oh, that is so sad,’ Sasha said. ‘She looks so beautiful in that portrait.’
‘Peter suspects that she probably married against her parents’ wishes and was disinherited. He’s been unable to unearth any leads about what happened to her at all.’
‘You mentioned the family bible; do you still have it?’
Ingrid nodded. ‘Yes. When we bought the chateau, Peter’s parents thought our small library would be a fitting home for it. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you.’
Sasha followed Ingrid up to the wide landing with its huge arched window throwing light down the length of the marble staircase. Sasha stopped to take a closer look at the antique wooden rocking horse placed in front of it. She touched its worn saddle. ‘I wonder how many children have sat on him through the years, dreaming of riding adventures. I always wanted one. Was this Peter’s too?’
Ingrid shook her head. ‘No. I found this in a second-hand shop in a nearby village and couldn’t resist it.’ She glanced at Sasha. ‘I’ve never been particularly into horses, but since we bought the chateau, I keep finding horse memorabilia everywhere. It seems to leap out at me, saying, “I belong in the Chateau du Cheval” and I have to buy it. It’s quite strange.’ She turned to show Sasha the library. ‘It’s a bit of a misnomer to describe this room as a library at the moment, as it only has the one barrister bookcase with a few volumes in it, but there will be more eventually. I’ve tried to make it inviting and calm, somewhere pleasant to sit in and lose yourself in a novel for an hour or two. At least that’s how I hope guests will feel about it.’
‘I want to book a holiday here just for this room,’ Sasha said, gazing around. ‘It’s amazing. It feels so luxurious and inviting. I can just imagine curling up in here for a good read.’
The same golden oak panelling as downstairs was echoed around the room and in the parquet flooring. A marble fireplace, paper, kindling and logs were already in place, and a full log basket to the side dominated one end of the large space. A huge cream wool rug with three different flower motifs – roses, hydrangeas, oleanders – repeated in the twenty squares created across its surface, stretched from in front of the fireplace into the centre of the room. A three-seater green velvet sofa had been placed facing the fire. Four curved recesses were spaced down the wall facing the full-length windows, with their heavy green velvet drapes matching the settee. Around the sides, there were various upholstered seats, small tables, two or three brass standard lights placed strategically near chairs, and a tabletop glass chandelier on the small writing bureau in the far corner. There was even a pair of library steps ready for when the alcoves were filled with volumes.
‘Is this the family bible?’ Sasha asked, walking across to the barrister bookcase with its glass-fronted doors and pointing at a closed, thick, leather-bound tome with a brass clasp.
‘Yes,’ Ingrid said. ‘We keep it closed because we don’t want the sunlight fading the pages, and we decided to lock the bookcase itself to stop any guests unintentionally damaging it. I’ll have to show you properly another day, I’ve forgotten to bring the key up with me.’
Ingrid’s phone buzzed with a text and she gave it a quick glance.
‘Supper is ready. We’d best get back down.’
As they walked into the kitchen, Peter was placing a round dish on the table.
‘Smells delicious,’ Sasha said. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s flamiche,’ Ingrid said. ‘Peter’s mother gave me her recipe as it’s one of Peter’s favourite suppers. Very French and very easy to make. Basically, it’s leeks and cream in puff pastry. Hope you like it. Help yourself to salad.’
The flamiche was delicious, as was the lemon meringue cheesecake that followed.
‘Does your daughter visit often?’ Sasha asked, shaking her head as Peter offered her another glass of wine. ‘No, thank you.’
‘We’d hoped she’d move over with us,’ Ingrid said quietly. ‘But she’s happy where she is and she’s got a boyfriend, whom we suspect doesn’t like the idea of her joining us.’ She shrugged. ‘What will be will be. We can only live our own lives.’
It was nearly ten o’clock before Sasha and Freddie thanked Ingrid and Peter for a lovely evening, said goodnight and began their walk back to their new homes under a moonlit sky.
‘They’re really nice aren’t they, the Chevaliers? Such a shame that Peter can’t trace what happened to his great-aunt Bernadette,’ Sasha said.
‘Sorry I missed seeing the inside of the chateau,’ Freddie said.
‘It’s wonderful. I’d love to have a holiday there. Who was your call from?’
‘My replacement at work. Wanted to know where a couple of things were. I left all the information in the handbook but…’ Freddie shrugged. ‘Takes time to settle into a new job.’
Sasha tilted her head up and turned around in a circle, looking at the sky. ‘So many stars. There’s no light pollution at all – and the moon is so bright.’ She sighed contentedly. ‘I’m so happy to be here. I’m sure we’ve done the right thing in moving.’