A Place of Storms Read Online Free PDF

the hard lines of his chin and mouth. He did not look the sort of man who could be easily persuaded about anything, she thought uneasily.
    'We'll drink a toast.' Once again she was aware of that quiet element of mockery. 'To our—better acquaintance,
mademoiselle
.'
    She murmured something indistinguishable as he touched his glass to hers, and hoped he would blame the heat of the fire for the sudden colour which tinged her face. It was a relief when the door opened and a short stocky man with a brown weatherbeaten face and round, rather staring eyes ambled in.
    ' M'sieur ?'
    'Ah, Gaston.' Blaise Levallier turned to him, and spoke a few quiet words in his own tongue. Then he turned to Andrea.
    'He will need your keys,
mademoiselle
?'
    She hesitated a moment, oddly reluctant to part with them. The car was her passport to safety, after all, and it gave her a sense of security to know that its keys were in her keeping.
    'You need not worry. Gaston is simple, it is true, but he is also completely trustworthy and devoted to my family.' Blaise Levallier sounded ironic. 'He is perfectly capable of rescuing your baggage and taking it to your room, I promise you.'
    She flushed more hotly, annoyed that she was unable to justify her hesitation. She delved into her handbag and produced the key-ring, dropping it into Gaston's waiting palm, murmuring her thanks.
    When the door had closed behind him, Blaise Levallier said, 'He speaks no English, I should warn you, but I don't think you will have any difficulty in making him understand you. Madame Bresson—Clothilde—is his aunt and has cared for him since he was a child. He helps with some of the heavy work around the chateau, and assists the herdsmen with the cattle. He is magnificent with the beasts and with the horses. He has a skill born of instinct.'
    She nodded constrainedly and sipped her drink. It was essential, of course, for the future mistress of the chateau to be acquainted with these details, but it was a far cry from all she really needed to know. For a moment she found herself wondering how Clare would have reacted to Gaston. Her cousin had an undue sensitivity about all forms of abnormality, and would have had difficulty in adapting herself even to Blaise Levallier's scarred face, she realised.
    'What—other help do you have?'
    'Very little, as you must have noticed, in the house. The land, of course, is different. But there we all work for each other.'
    She looked up at him in surprise, and he explained.
    'In my forefathers' day, the chateau took the best of everything—the best of the grazing, the most sheltered portions of the orchards, the finest sites for the vineyards. It has been a policy that has bred poverty and resentment— both forces for destruction. Well, I prefer to construct, rather than destroy, so we have pooled our land and our resources and formed a co-operative. The time is past when the village could simply produce enough food and wine for its own needs and ignore the rest of the world. We make excellent wine—it needs a wider market. In time, too, we will have one of the, finest breeding herds in Auvergne.
    St Jean des Roches will not become a dead village peopled by the elderly.'
    'And what part do you play in this—co-operative?'
    'I am its overall manager.' He noted the rather satirical look Andrea sent him, and raised his hand. 'Not because the feudal system still flourishes, I promise you. If I did not have the necessary skill, I would be labouring in the fields. I've served my apprenticeship in management on the plantations of Martinique and—other places.' His smile jeered at her suddenly. 'So if you thought you had come here merely to play the gracious chatelaine,
ma mie
, I'm afraid you must think again.'
    'I thought nothing of the sort,' she said truthfully, and relaxed as a knock at the door signalled the arrival of Madame Bresson with their dinner.
    Andrea had not realised how hungry she was until Madame lifted the lid off the