The French House by Helen Fripp (english readers TXT) 📗

wrapped around your little finger. I heard about your “tasting” in the bar. You think they signed up for your talents? No. Men are the same everywhere, even in this backwater. Everyone here is a little in love with you, darling. No one can resist drawing near to a firefly and watching as it buzzes about.’

Her delight at seeing Thérésa clouded for a moment as she remembered her pawned firefly necklace. She banished the thought as soon as it appeared, a skill she had developed since François, essential for survival.

‘If only that was true of Moët. I’m sure he’d actually kill me if he could find a way of doing it and stay respectable.’

‘You’ve challenged the richest and most powerful man within a hundred miles. What do you expect?’

Nicole scrutinised Thérésa. She recognised the steel, the beguiling flattery like the finest vintage champagne – exciting and rare. A happy accident of white skin, perfect teeth, hair black as liquorice, a talent for flouting rules and being loved for it.

‘You’re looking at me in that way again. You won’t find anything more than complete frivolity.’

‘I see bravery, served up with sugar to try to fool me,’ replied Nicole. Hurt skimmed Thérésa’s face, chased by her dazzling smile. ‘It seems business is not so good for you either. Where is your latest conquest?’

‘I need a rest between the buffoons and a country retreat is just the thing. Marie Antoinette had the Petit Trianon, I have your little world full of grapes and field hands. You don’t begrudge me a bit of fun?’

‘I could never thank you enough for all you have done for me.’

Thérésa clapped her hands. ‘I knew you had a soul under that tough exterior.’

‘And I know you have a way of deflecting attention away from yourself when things are bad. Why are you here?’

‘I need to lie low for a while. Things have got a little… awkward in Paris. You know how hot-headed men can be, especially when they’re regarded as important and my current husband has a very high opinion of himself. I was hoping you could get your friend Monsieur Moët to have a whisper in Napoléon’s ear, but you’ve completely ruined that for me now. It’s been over a year since Joséphine was cast aside for that plate-of-whey Marie-Louise. These aristocrats really are inbred. She has the blood, but absolutely nothing else. God completely overlooked her for wit, looks or personality, poor thing. Joséphine’s fall from grace has included me and while I’m financially secure – I haven’t been foolish enough to give myself to several marriages without ensuring mine and my children’s welfare – life is so dull without invitations and salons and being in the thick of things. Like you without your vineyards, I’m a flower without water.’

‘What are you hiding from?’ asked Nicole.

‘What does any self-respecting grown-up ever hide from? Scandal, of course. My husband and his friends are such prudes.’

‘You can stay as long as you like – I won’t ask for details, and you are welcome, though you’ll find my country life dull.’

‘Oh, don’t you worry about me, I can amuse myself. The men here may be a little gauche, but I’m a good teacher. I might even work on Moët myself.’

Nicole grasped Thérésa’s hand – surprisingly cold – and squeezed it. ‘The truth is, I will be glad of the company.’

‘I refuse to stay without paying my way. What would it take to satisfactorily lay down your vintage comet champagne?’

‘How do you even know about that?’

‘You spend too much time with your head in your ledgers and mooning over grapes. The talk in this town is of nothing else. I have only been here for one day and I know all about it. A beautiful woman – don’t shake your head, darling, it’s a fact – a beautiful woman, alone in this godforsaken village, obsessing about wine, luring men out of bars to work for her, secret shipments, miraculous comets… from what I hear of François, he would have been proud – now you look like you want to cry again. Don’t do that, it makes you blotchy.’

‘I can’t take a sou.’

‘You most certainly will. It’s purely business. I’ll invest in you, show the whole of Paris and take all the credit. Don’t you try to stop me. Napoléon wants to conquer the world, but he will never, ever conquer me. I want it for the same reason as you, darling. Freedom from men, respectability. To be above the rules, like you.’

As always, it was impossible to resist her beautiful friend. And why would she? They would both benefit, and she would have the added bonus of her company for as long as she cared to give it, which was all you could ever expect from a capricious goddess.

‘Let’s get you settled. Josette can make your room up and I’ll ask Antoine and Xavier to stay here and keep an eye on the workers.’

‘The faithful retainers? It seems I still have a lot to learn from you, my lady of Reims.’

‘Loyalty is all I have left at the moment and yours is more valuable to me than anyone’s.’

Of course country life wasn’t dull for Thérésa. She employed Claudine to make her peasant dresses out of the best silk the dress shop could supply and wafted around, chattering to milkmaids, chewing on clover, picking autumn flowers from the hedgerows and threading them through her hair.

Her target was Moët. If anyone in the world could distract Moët from her destruction, it was Thérésa. Every day, she strolled the borders where the Clicquot and Moët vineyards met, pretending to inspect the vines on Nicole’s behalf.

While Thérésa was out playing the country maid, Nicole hacked away at her makeshift invention in the cellar, with borrowed tools from Antoine, a feverish idea she’d had from her years of experimenting with the riddling bottles in the sand.

The kitchen table she had sacrificed for the purpose was old and solid, made of local oak and big enough