‘Are you okay?’ he asked turning to look at her.
‘Mm,’ she said not meeting his eyes. ‘Just a bit of a sniffle, probably set off by all the dusting I’ve been doing. What are we looking at?’ She couldn’t quite make out the picture. It just looked like lots of green, more green and yet more green.
‘You get a different perspective from this angle. The shafts are in different places in relation to where I’d imagined them from below ground. They’re covered these days now that there’s electricity in the caves but originally they were used to let light down.’ His face changed, and Hattie could see he was caught up in a memory. ‘Once Marthe found me and Alphonse standing on top of the shaft covers. We’d been forbidden to go near them, but boys being boys … she was furious. I’ve never seen her that angry. It wasn’t like her. Usually she’d give me the silent and disappointed treatment, which would make me feel so guilty, I’d blurt out a confession.
‘Funny. You see things differently from the air.’ He scrolled onto the next shot and the overhead view of the quaint toytown village, with its terracotta tiled roofs and its stone buildings that crowded around the narrow, twisty lanes spread along the banks of the River Marne. Then onto a dramatic one of the château from the south, which was stunning.
‘I have to buy that one,’ said Luc. ‘I could definitely use that in marketing brochures. It really shows the château off.’
It certainly did, thought Hattie. The picture summed up all the romance of the building, while showcasing the beautiful scenery around it. If that were to go on a website, she wouldn’t be surprised if Luc was inundated with requests from people wanting to hold a wedding here. With a smile, she realised that while she’d only been here a little while, she’d already fallen under the spell of the château. It would be a hard place to leave.
ChapterThirteen
Hattie heard the buzz of the helicopter leaving when she was back in the ballroom. It matched the dull buzz in her head. She blew her nose again. Each sweep of the broom seemed to unleash yet another explosive sneeze as the dust swirled around her. Who knew that sneezing could be so exhausting?
‘No!’ The broom hit a trail of small brown pellets. ‘Shit!’ Literally. She stopped to examine them and then scanned the rest of the floor. Bloody hell! There really were mice. And judging by the size of these droppings, they were either monster mice or rats.
Luckily the mice seemed to have stuck to the perimeter of the room. Considerate of them, she thought, and only on one side, thank goodness. Although now she was going to have to inspect the rest of the château for signs of rodents. She raised her eyes heavenwards and caught sight of the chandeliers.
‘Damn,’ she said out loud. She really should have started those before the floor. Each piece of glass would need cleaning.
Hattie manoeuvred the tall ladder into place and after a bit of a struggle managed to open it. She stared up to the apex of the ladder, not far short of the ceiling. It was like the beanstalk in the fairytale, and looked a very long way up. Almost on autopilot, she put one foot after the other on the rungs. Step. Step. Step. Keeping a tight grip, she climbed, her head swimming.
She blinked and felt herself sway a little. This had not been her smartest idea. The bottom of the ladder seemed a very long way down and now she was up here, she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. She closed her eyes and clung to the ladder, praying that the energy that had deserted her would come back.
‘Hattie?’
‘Mmm,’ she mumbled, not wanting to open her eyes.
‘Hattie? Are you all right?’
‘Yeah. Just peachy. I’m…’ Her voice trailed off as she opened her eyes and the room began to spin around her, the floor undulating like snakes and the windows swimming in out and out of focus. Her fingers tightened on the ladder, fighting the urge to simply give in and let go. Light-headed and slightly nauseous, she closed her eyes again but this time it made things worse.
‘Hattie!’ Luc’s urgent voice sounded closer. ‘Hattie, you need to come down.’
She nodded still gripping the ladder, frozen in place.
‘One foot at a time. Come on.’
She shifted one foot, lowering it to the next rung, grateful to feel the solid metal beneath the ball of her foot.
‘And another,’ urged Luc. ‘Now your hand. Slide it down.’
She realised she was holding so tightly to the ladder that her knuckles were bone-white, almost bursting out of the skin. Cautiously she loosened her hold and slid her hands down a few inches.
Bit by bit, she worked her way down the ladder, completely in thrall to Luc’s calm, patient voice, but somehow, with a third of the way to go, her co-ordination deserted her and she missed a step. Thrown by this she inexplicably let go of the ladder.
Her stomach went one way, her body the other and she tensed in anticipation of hitting the floor. Instead, Luc plucked her out of the air with a confident ‘I’ve got you.’
Relief flooded her and with her knees like jelly, her body went limp, trusting the security of Luc’s arms.
It could have been a wonderful moment if she hadn’t had an attack of sneezing, so violent she couldn’t stop, with snot erupting from her nose and running down one cheek. Half-heartedly she tried to wipe her face with her sleeve, which just smeared more embarrassing gunk across her face.
‘Hattie, you’re burning up,’ he said, laying a cool hand on her forehead, then putting an arm around her. ‘I think you have a fever.’
‘Just a cold,’ she said, so weary now that she could barely keep her eyes open, which was just as well. She was far too mortified to look at Luc. ‘But I do feel terrible.’
‘You need to go to bed.’
