Chapter 16

16

PRESENT DAY

Blake had never seen anything so magnificent as Henri’s family chateau near Lyon. From the moment they’d turned into the long, sweeping driveway, she’d known that his wasn’t just a summer residence, but something quite special.

‘Welcome home,’ Henri said as he pulled up outside the three-storey house.

‘You could have warned me,’ she said, not waiting for him to open her door. She stepped out of the car and stood, her hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun, staring at the building. It looked more like a hotel than a personal residence, with more windows than she could count. It was painted a warm cream colour that reflected the pebbles used on the wide, circular driveway, with dark grey shingles on the roof. ‘How long has your family owned this place?’

Henri was already taking their bags out of the car, and hadn’t seemed to notice that her jaw was still hanging open as she took in her surroundings.

‘My mother bought it when I was maybe ten or eleven?’ he answered. ‘She always called this place her refuge from the world, and now that I’m older and as consumed by work as she is, it’s become my refuge, too.’

Blake didn’t doubt that. She imagined it would be her favourite place in the world if her family owned a property of such magnitude, in such a picturesque part of the world, too.

‘Come and meet my mother and stepfather,’ he said, inclining his head towards the enormous front door, both of his hands full holding their luggage. ‘And Louis.’

‘Who’s Louis?’ she asked, before a large Labrador came running around the side of the house, tail wagging as he did circles around Henri, as if he’d found his long-lost friend.

‘This is Louis,’ Henri said. ‘He spends most of his time asleep in the sun.’

‘He’s gorgeous,’ she said, patting him before he trotted back towards the house.

As they walked, the door opened and out came a man who looked almost as handsome as Henri, wearing a casual shirt and linen trousers, his feet bare and his skin so golden Blake imagined he spent much of his life enjoying the outdoors. But it was the woman who truly caught her eye. She was dressed casually, too, but in slim-fitting trousers that showed off her figure, a silk shirt, and with a scarf tied around her neck in a way that only Frenchwomen seemed able to do.

‘Maman, Benoit, this is Blake,’ Henri said as they neared, dropping his bags to embrace and kiss first his stepfather and then his mother.

‘Blake,’ Benoit said, kissing both her cheeks and touching her shoulders, his smile warm. ‘It’s so lovely to have you join us.’

‘And my mother, Céline,’ Henri said, stepping aside so his mother could greet her.

She also stepped forward and kissed Blake in greeting, but this time, Blake froze. ‘Céline Toussaint,’ she said, more awestruck over Henri’s mother than the house. ‘Former editor-in-chief of Vogue Paris ?’

He sighed, as if he was used to such a reaction. Céline, on her part, just smiled and took Blake by the hand.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve just been a fan of yours for so many years, and Henri never mentioned who you were.’ Why hadn’t he said something when she’d asked if his mother worked in fashion!

‘Sometimes I forget how many women saw my face when they flipped through the pages of Vogue ,’ Céline said. ‘But thank you, it’s nice to hear that someone as young as you finds me relevant still.’

Céline and Benoit both turned and walked back inside, and she took the chance to grab hold of Henri’s arm.

‘You could have warned me that your mother was Céline Toussaint,’ she whispered.

‘To me, she is just my mother,’ he said. ‘But I’m sorry, I should have said. I prefer not to mention it unless I have to.’

‘Now I can see why you thought she might be able to help me. I was wondering how anyone could be more knowledgeable about fashion than you.’ Céline had been one of the most famous, and controversial, editors of the magazine, and Blake had followed her rise in the fashion world with interest. After leaving Vogue at the peak of her career, she’d launched her own business and now had a respectable fashion brand that designed key capsule pieces, as well as a small range of seasonal items. There was also the online platform Céline had, with millions of women in Europe following her to see what she was wearing or recommending.

‘Can I ask one thing of you?’

‘Anything. Of course.’

‘Please don’t use my mother as clickbait in one of your stories. I understand that you’ll want to mention her, but?—’

‘I understand,’ Blake said, interrupting him before he even had time to finish. ‘You can trust me, Henri, I promise.’

‘Good. Now are you ready to go inside?’ Henri asked.

Blake sighed. ‘Yes, I’m ready. Just, please, no more surprises like that.’

‘I promise.’

After touring all sixteen rooms of the house and walking part of the nearly two hectares of grounds, Blake didn’t know what was most enchanting—the property or Henri’s parents. They’d been friendly and gracious, acting as if her coming to stay was the most fabulous thing imaginable, and by the end of their stroll around the immaculate gardens, she was only too happy to curl up in an outdoor chair and enjoy the champagne that Benoit had opened in celebration of their arrival.

‘Now tell us more about your travels, Blake,’ Benoit said, once they were all settled and had raised their glasses in a toast. ‘Henri has told us that you’re searching for your great-grandmother?’

‘Yes,’ she said with a nod. ‘I am. Although to be honest, I’ve not been able to find out much about her, and I’ve turned my journey into a series of articles, so the lack of new information is becoming rather stressful.’

‘You know Henri sent me the design?’ Céline asked. ‘So that I could make some enquiries?’

‘He did,’ Blake replied. ‘And I’m sorry if that was an imposition or?—’

Céline held up her hand and Blake stopped talking. ‘It wasn’t an imposition at all, I honestly enjoyed the challenge. It’s not often that I have the ability to find things out that my son can’t.’

‘You discovered something?’ Henri asked.

‘I did,’ Céline said, rising and collecting something from the table.

On closer inspection, Blake could see that it was a file, and Céline opened it and passed it to her. Henri leaned closer as she inspected it.

‘I had my assistant search the archives at Vogue Paris , as they’ve recently been digitised, and along with asking some of my older contacts to take a look, we were able to find a name.’

Blake slowly looked up, meeting Céline’s gaze. ‘You have a name, for my great-grandmother?’

‘I have a name for the designer who signed your sketch,’ Céline corrected. ‘I couldn’t find out anything about her personal life, but the designer you’re searching for is Evelina Lavigne.’

Evelina . Blake couldn’t believe it. Her heart started to pound at just having a name, knowing that she finally knew something about the past after all this time.

‘And the article you’re holding is from a copy of Vogue Paris in the late 1930s. It seems that she was quite well-known at the time.’

Blake ran her eyes over the article, hardly able to believe what she was reading. Evelina Lavigne, the designer making women feel as if they’re worth a fortune .

She could barely focus on the words. All she could think about was the name, that she finally had a name for the woman she presumed was her great-grandmother. There was even a photo, and she squinted to see it properly, trying to make out the grainy face staring back at her. She immediately felt as if the woman’s eyes were familiar, the way they were looking at her, but she shook her head, certain it was her own eyes playing tricks on her. In her heart, though, she was convinced she could see a resemblance to her grandmother.

‘Thank you,’ she said, looking from Céline to Henri. ‘I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me.’

‘Well, I became rather interested in the mystery of it all, and I have to confess that I did find your first two articles when I was searching,’ Céline said. ‘I’m honoured to be helping, in even a small way.’

‘This is the only solid lead I’ve had, other than being told to come to Paris and meet Henri, so it is no small thing. Thank you, so much.’

‘Did you discover anything else?’ Henri asked.

‘I was able to find that the clothes were stocked exclusively at Les Galeries Renaud, which is our oldest department store in Paris, and owned by the Renaud family. I doubt they would be able to assist in providing more information, since it was such a long time ago. The Renaud family were known for acquiring luxury brands, and did very well when the company was under the control of Antoine Renaud, although he died many years ago now.’

‘I actually interviewed his family as part of my exhibition. I don’t think the company is what it used to be with Antoine at the helm—he truly was the heart and soul of their business interests.’

‘Thank you,’ Blake said. ‘This is all just so much food for thought.’

Everyone went quiet then, as Blake brought her attention back to the article, wanting to absorb every detail. When she was done, she raised her eyes again to find Céline smiling warmly.

‘It’s been a very long time since Henri brought a friend home,’ Céline said. ‘So when he asked for my help, I wasn’t going to say no. I only wish I had more to share.’

Blake understood that Céline thought she might be disappointed, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth—she was thrilled to have discovered so much in one day. She was about to say so when Henri touched her hand, indicating the magazine clipping she was holding.

‘This says that Evelina was originally from the village of Provins,’ he said. ‘Perhaps that is your next clue.’

‘Perhaps,’ she agreed, taking the clipping and beginning to read it properly, feeling emotional at even hearing her great-grandmother’s name spoken aloud in conversation. She hadn’t realised how much it would mean to her, uncovering just a snippet of information. ‘Is that far from here?’

‘It’s close to Paris,’ Benoit said. ‘You could always visit on your way back to the city?’

Blake glanced at Henri. ‘No, I wouldn’t expect Henri to come with me, but?—’

‘I would love to come with you,’ he said, grinning and pulling her closer to him. ‘But for now, we need to drink more champagne.’

Benoit looked thrilled at the prospect of more champagne, and darted off to get another bottle, while Blake sat back, content to listen to Henri and his mother talk as she admired the view. One day ago, her prospects of discovering more had been bleak, but now she was starting to believe that she might just solve the mystery of her past. And have enough to write about to keep Deborah, and her readers, happy.

After a most enjoyable late afternoon and evening being entertained by the Toussaint family, as they’d spent the night talking, laughing, drinking and eating, Blake had said goodnight and let Henri lead her by the hand to their quarters. Although it was large, the chateau somehow still felt like a home, and she walked slowly down the hallway and up the stairs, with Henri patiently keeping to her slow pace.

‘You’re going to love the bedroom.’

When he pushed open the door to their room, he let Blake go first, and she had barely stepped in before she stopped. Oh my goodness . It was like a bedroom from a movie set, complete with a four-poster bed in the middle of the room, and its own private balcony.

‘Henri,’ she whispered, as he came up behind her, so close that she swore she could feel his breath against her neck. ‘This is amazing. Is this your room?’

He laughed. ‘This isn’t officially my room anymore, because my mother moved out all my things and redecorated about the time she left Vogue . She didn’t cope well with having any time off.’

‘Well, she did a beautiful job,’ Blake said, turning and finding herself even closer to Henri than she’d realised. ‘I can’t wait to explore the rest of the grounds.’

‘Tomorrow,’ he murmured, his eyes falling to her lips, ‘we are going to walk, and have a picnic beneath the oak trees, and go horse riding.’

‘Was your mother teasing or telling the truth when she said you hadn’t brought anyone here in a long time?’

Blake felt as though her breath had caught in her throat as he lifted his hand to brush his fingertips gently down her face, before they slid to rest against the back of her neck.

‘She wasn’t lying,’ he murmured. ‘It’s been a very long time since I trusted someone enough.’

Blake didn’t have the time to wonder what he meant, because the moment he’d finished speaking he brought his lips to meet hers in a kiss so butterfly-soft it sent a shiver all the way down her spine.

Any doubts she might have had about his feelings for her disappeared the moment he kissed her.

She looped her arms around his neck as he walked her backwards until her legs touched the bed. Henri kissed her again, until she lost her balance and fell back, with him almost landing on top of her, his hands bracing himself on either side of her body.

‘Henri?’ she whispered.

He took his lips from hers and looked down at her, tenderly brushing her hair from her face, and she couldn’t help but think that it had been a kiss worth waiting for.

‘I can see why this is your favourite place in the world.’

Because as he stared into her eyes, in the moment before he kissed her again, she was starting to think it might just be her favourite place, too.