‘Nobody is being fired, Penny.’ Madame Beaufoy had finished her call. ‘This has simply been an unfortunate misunderstanding.’
‘Please let me explain,’ Fran said, but her words fell on deaf ears as Penny shoved her chair away and made a break for the office door. She looked as though she was about to burst into tears and Fran wanted nothing more than to follow her, but Madame Beaufoy had Fran fixed with a hawklike gaze and was clearly waiting for the explanation which she had been promised.
Chapter 23
‘You will understand our confusion, I think,’ Madame Beaufoy said, her attention fixed on Fran but with all traces of soft amiability long gone.
‘Totally.’
‘I will be honest and tell you I have not paid a great deal of attention to Mr Wilding and his family matters, but I was under the impression he had two sons. So, although Penny has spoken with her feet, personally I would be very grateful for the opportunity to understand.’
Fran pressed her lips together, not convinced she had any better grip on her current reality. However, she completely understood why Madame Beaufoy was expecting more of an explanation. The real question was where to begin? Perhaps the woman could sense Fran’s confusion, because she allowed Fran a pause and fetched some coffee for them both. It gave her time to try to crystallise the oddness of the past six months into something nearing a coherent explanation.
She unfolded her story in much the same way as she had for Red, her hands occupied this time with the small coffee cup, rather than by doing her best to keep the cat happy. Madame Beaufoy listened patiently, her expression unaltering and her own hands wrapped around her cup.
With her tale until the current moment told, Fran fell silent and waited for Madame Beaufoy’s response. It took her by surprise when the older woman sighed, and then smiled.
‘My husband wanted a daughter, too,’ she said.
Fran felt herself frown, and Madame Beaufoy set her coffee down.
‘We have boys. They are men now, of course – away from here and living their own lives. They are both splendid, but my husband always wished for a girl. A daughter he could love. Maybe Monsieur Wilding is the same.’
‘You think it could be that simple?’ Fran said.
‘Bien sûr. Why not?’
‘I didn’t believe it, to begin with. You can imagine the suspicion I felt when his office contacted me. I couldn’t understand why he was suddenly so interested, even if I am his child. I mean, he’d had twenty-six years to come and find me.’
‘You are sure he knew you existed?’
Fran shrugged. ‘I don’t know. My mother never really talked about it, or him. Just told me we were fine as we were, and we didn’t need him. And she was right, we were perfectly fine.’
‘Of course, you were. Mothers are very resourceful people. You loved her?’
‘Very much.’ The words brought a tear to Fran’s eye, and she blinked hard to get rid of it. ‘For my mum to shut down any conversation about my father, I came to believe that something bad had happened between them. That my mum had a good enough reason for not wanting anything to do with him. I imagined some very dark scenarios, so I never felt any desire to look for him. And maybe those thoughts made me too guarded, but I know all too well how easily men can pull the wool over someone’s eyes.’
Madame Beaufoy nodded. ‘Yes. It is wise to know this. They can be the best and the worst of all things. But, Miss Wilding, if I may say – it doesn’t make much sense for him to have contacted you after all this time if he wishes anything other than the best for you, does it?’
‘I suppose not.’ She frowned. ‘He seems genuine. But, please, Madame Beaufoy, I really am Fran Compton – always havebeen. I’m not planning on getting rid of my mother’s name anytime soon.’
‘Nor should you. But you will give your father a chance to make his intentions clear, won’t you?’
Fran smiled and was rewarded by seeing a softening in the woman’s expression before her attention was taken by the shrill ringtone of her mobile. Madame Beaufoy answered it, glancing at Fran as she listened. With the call ended, she stood and gestured for Fran to do the same.
‘Your room is ready for you, and we have taken the liberty of moving your belongings across also. From this moment on, you are our honoured guest, and I hope you will enjoy all the hotel has to offer. If you would like, I will take you to your suite now.’
After her housekeeping role, Fran was sure she was more than capable of locating the room on her own and that Madame Beaufoy had more important things to focus on, like how the staff were going to manage the rest of the dinner service when they were down by a waitress. But she bit back the words, aware that Madame Beaufoy wanted to make right a perceived error. Aware also that the mistake was nothing to do with Madame Beaufoy or anyone else at Chateau les Champs d’Or, that it lay squarely at Fran’s feet.
‘You have much to think through,n’est-ce pas?’
‘I have,’ Fran said.
‘And I think it might be wise to allow Penny some time to calm down. She is a wonderful young lady, but she also has a very heated head – is that how you say it?’
Fran smiled. ‘Close enough. Thank you for being so understanding, Madame Beaufoy.’
The following morning, Johnny threw back the corner of his duvet, enjoying the brief wave of cooler air as it curled its way across his skin, then tutting in frustration as the coolness wasquickly replaced by an oppressive heat even the air conditioning seemed to be struggling with. Another stifling day in the Loire.
