“Of course!” She bustles to pour us glasses.
The water is a godsend. We thank Odile, and then Henri begins the grand tour. The château’s interior is a stark contrastto his parents’ penthouse in Pombrio. Everything here is sturdy, cozy, and bursting with rugged allure.
The main hall boasts a stone fireplace large enough to roast a wild boar. The massive wood furniture and embroidered cushions invite you to sink in and never leave. Heavy beams crisscross the ceiling. Every nook holds some quaint decoration or another—a ceramic figurine here, an antique clock there.
I doubt Henri has touched the decor since his grandmother passed.
Next, we head upstairs and check out our rooms for the retreat. We discover two cozy havens with a view of the park and the hills beyond. Mine is a tad bigger than Audrey’s.
“Is it all right if we settle in a day early?” Audrey asks Henri once we’re back in the hallway. “I’d like to check the safety arrangements and make some minor adjustments.”
“Of course,” Henri replies.
At Audrey’s request, we visit the secure wine cellar that Henri had mentioned. Audrey takes pictures and jots down some notes. After we climb back upstairs, we settle down in the sunroom for a glass of Odile’s homemade lemonade and snacks.
Five minutes in, Henri’s phone rings.
He glances at the caller ID and shoots me an apologetic look. “It’s one of our biggest clients. He never calls unless it’s urgent.”
“By all means!” I say.
Nodding thanks, he steps out onto the patio.
I grab an apple from the fruit bowl and turn to Audrey. “Shall we go talk to the search team?”
It’s why we’re here today.
We walk out to the small park that surrounds the château. I can’t see the drones from here or hear any equipment, so I call the team leader, Dana, for directions.
“They’re in the northeast quadrant now,” I report to Audrey when I hang up. “Between the stables and the old wall.”
She opens the compass app on her phone and points to her right. “This way, Your Highness.”
We head down a gravel alley. It’s nothing like the royal palace’s park. There, everything is manicured with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker. Here, the spirit is,Bye, geometry! Hello, freedom!
The holm oaks, chestnut trees and hazelnut trees scattered around us are full of character and only minimally pruned. The grass is tall without looking unkempt. Wild flowers and aromatic herbs grow wherever they please, creating a tapestry of colors on the ground. The air is alive with their mingled fragrances, but also with birdsong and the rustling of leaves.
Henri’s gardener has a light hand and the heart of a romantic.
We reach a spot with a lovely view of the valley, making me realize how high up we are. Below, is a lush landscape of green with fields surrounded by wooded areas and rolling hillsides. Behind a tree, I spot a small deer grazing contentedly, its delicate ears twitching at every sound.
I take out my phone and snap a series of pictures, but it doesn’t do justice to the scene.
“Should’ve brought my professional camera,” I mutter, annoyed with myself for leaving it at the hotel.
“We’re coming back tomorrow,” Audrey reminds me, “and the day after that, to stay for a week. You’ll have plenty of time to photograph the hell out of this place, Your Highness.”
She whirls around, hand on her gun, and steps in front of me when footsteps crunch the gravel lane behind us. But it’s only Henri, catching up with us. He guides us a few meters away—and suddenly, a new view unfolds. Standing by his side, I look down at the winding ribbon of a river.
“Is that the river Dordogne?” I ask.
Nodding, he points his chin at something beyond it and to the left. “Ta-da!”
Peeling my eyes from his oh-so-handsome face, I gaze in the direction he’s showing me.
Oh my God, it’s the famed Rocamadour!
Perched on the cliffside, the castle and its villageare a remarkable sight.With its ancient walls and tall towers, the castle stands guard over the village like a protective giant. The medieval houses cling to the cliffside, dazzling the onlooker.
