“Oh. You want me to walk your dog? Yes, sure, I can do that,” she said. As loath as she was to go back out into the wind and rain, she didn’t see that she had any other option. Besides, a man of his age, withan injury no less, shouldn’t be walking a dog at all, much less in this weather.
“Are you good with horses?” Fabrice asked.
“You have horses, too?”
He opened a wide oak door. Standing there was the biggest dog Cady had ever seen. Espresso brown with patches of white on her chest and the tips of her paws, she looked like she weighed more than Cady did.
“Her name’s Lucy.” Fabrice’s sharp eyes watched Cady as he handed her the thick leather strap that served as a leash. “She’s Great Dane and Irish wolfhound, maybe a little greyhound mixed in there.”
“Um, great. Hi there, Lucy.”
“Don’t let her run. The estate isn’t fenced. Usually she sticks around, but sometimes she goes too far afield, chasing rabbits. If she gets into the neighbor’s vineyard they’ll complain. I don’t need the headache. You can go out this way.”
Cady took the leash. The dog sniffed at her hand and wagged her tail, but Cady was still on edge.
Next to the door was a coatrack. “You can wear this,” Fabrice said, handing her a bright yellow raincoat with a hood, the kind crossing guards wear. “And here are some boots.”
She wasn’t really a dog person, but to Cady’s wary eyes Lucy seemed nice enough. She wasn’t snarling or anything. Cady pulled on the rubber boots, which were much too large, and slipped on the old raincoat.At least it’ll keep me warm,she thought.
“Ready?” Fabrice held the door, which opened onto the rear courtyard.
“Okay, let’s go, pup,” Cady said as she headed back out into the forbidding night. “Allons-y, Lucy.”
• • •
Seemingly oblivious to the storm, the dog pulled Cady this way and that, stopping and sniffing here and there for no apparent reason, pawing at who knew what. The raincoat and boots protected Cadyfrom a further soaking, but by the time Lucy did her business and Cady managed to maneuver the large canine back to the château, she was beyond exhausted. She grabbed her suitcase from the car and hurried inside.
Fabrice was waiting for them in the sitting room. He greeted Lucy like a long-lost daughter, cooing to her and drying her with a fluffy yellow towel.
Cady shrugged out of the raincoat and pulled off the muddy boots, fascinated by this glimpse at the softer side of Fabrice Clement. She was also hoping he might handhera towel.
Instead, Fabrice pointed to a set of narrow stairs in the corner. “Go up the servants’ stairs, down the main paneled hallway, down the green stairs, through the room with all the books, then up the other stairs and down the red hallway.”
He handed her a flashlight.
Cady repeated the directions to herself, then asked: “Is the electricity off?”
“No. But no use lighting up the whole house, assuming you could even find the switches. Take any room you want off the red hallway; they’re all about equally dusty. Sheets and towels are in the trunk at the end of the hall. You look cold; you should take a hot bath, warm up, or you’ll catch your death.”
He turned and walked out of the room, Lucy trotting behind him.
Exhausted almost to the point of weepiness, Cady hauled her bag up the narrow stairwell and pulled it down a wide, impressively paneled hallway. The bag’s wheels squeaked softly, and she feared she might be dripping on the inlaid-wood floor.
She shone her flashlight beam this way and that, illuminating a strange mix of elegance and decay: old oil paintings in elaborate gold frames hung on cracked plaster with peeling wallpaper. Intricate wood moldings on doorways and passageways led to half-remodeled rooms with dust-covered paint cans and dropcloths scattered about. Cozy built-in benches sat below boarded-up windows. One beautifullypaneled room was furnished with nothing but a grand piano and a bucket that caught a drip from the ceiling. Folding TV tables mixed with beautiful carved armoires; bare bulbs vied with crystal chandeliers. Piles of books, magazines, and newspapers were everywhere: atop side chairs and tables, and filling corners.
It was like making her way, at night, through a poorly tended museum.
Cady found the green staircase, which consisted of six short steps down into a room crammed with laden bookcases and a hodgepodge of furniture, then went up another set of stairs to a red hallway.
Still soaking wet, she shivered.
She reached out to open the first door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
1900
EN ROUTE TO AVIGNON
