Litsi was nodding. ‘Aunt Casilia has been known to visit me in Paris when her sister-in-law stays too long. Aunt Casilia and Roland,’ he explained, unnecessarily, ‘go to the château for six weeks or so around July and August, to seek some country air and play their part as landowners. Did you know?’
‘They mention it sometimes,’ I said.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘What’s the château like?’ Danielle asked.
‘Not a Disney castle,’ Litsi answered, smiling. ‘More like a large Georgian country house, built of light-coloured stone, with shutters on all the windows. Château de Brescou... The local town is built on land south of Bordeaux mostly owned by Roland, and he takes moral and civil pride in its well being. Even without the construction company, he could fund a mini-Olympics on the income he receives in rents, and his estates are run as the company used to be, with good managers and scrupulous fairness.’
‘He cannot,’ I commented, ‘deal in arms.’
Danielle sighed. ‘I do see,’ she admitted, ‘that with all that old aristocratic honour, he simply couldn’t face it.’
‘But I’m really surprised,’ I said, ‘that Beatrice could face it quite easily. I would have thought she would have shared her brother’s feelings.’
‘I’ll bet,’ Danielle said, ‘that Henri Nanterre promised her a million dollar hand-out if she got Uncle Roland to change his mind.’
‘In that case,’ I suggested mildly, ‘your uncle could offer her double to go back to Palm Beach and stay there.’
Danielle looked shocked. ‘That wouldn’t be right.’
‘Morally indefensible,’ I agreed, ‘but pragmatically an effective solution.’
Litsi’s gaze was thoughtful on my face. ‘Do you think she’s such a threat?’
‘I think she could be like water dripping on a stone, wearing it away. Like water dripping on a man’s forehead, driving him mad.’
‘The water torture,’ Litsi said, ‘I’m told it feels like a red hot poker after a while, drilling a hole into the skull.’
‘She’s just like that,’ Danielle said.
There was a short silence while we contemplated the boring capacities of Beatrice de Brescou Bunt, and then Litsi said consideringly, ‘It might be a good idea to tell her about the document you witnessed. Tell her the bad news that all four of us would have to agree to the guns, and assure her that even if she drives Roland to collapse, she’ll still have to deal with me.’
‘Don’t tell her,’ Danielle begged. ‘She’ll give none of us any peace.’
Neither of them had objected to the use made of them in their absence; on the contrary, they had been pleased. ‘It makes us a family,’ Danielle had said, and it was I, the witness, who had felt excluded.
‘Upstairs,’ I said, reflecting, ‘I’ve got what I think is a duplicate of the form Henri Nanterre wanted Monsieur de Brescou to sign. It is in French. Would you like to see it?’
‘Very much,’ Litsi said.
‘Right.’
I went upstairs to fetch it and found Beatrice Bunt in my bedroom.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.
‘I came to fetch something,’ I said.
She was holding the bright blue running shorts I usually slept in, which I had stored that morning in the bedside table drawer on top of Nanterre’s form. The drawer was open, the paper presumably inside.
‘These are yours?’ she said in disbelief. ‘You are using this room?’
‘That’s right.’ I walked over to her, took the shorts from her hand and returned them to the drawer. The form, I was relieved to see, lay there undisturbed.
‘In that case,’ she said with triumph, ‘there’s no problem. I shall have this room, and you can have the other. I always have the bamboo suite, it’s the accepted thing. I see some of your things are in the bathroom. It won’t take long to switch them over.’
I’d left the door open when I went in and, perhaps hearing her voice, the princess came enquiringly to see what was going on.
‘I’ve told this young man to move, Casilia,’ Beatrice said, ‘because of course this is my room, naturally.’
‘Danielle’s fiancé,’ the princess said calmly, ‘stays in this room as long as he stays in this house. Now come along, Beatrice, do, the rose room is extremely comfortable, you’ll find.
‘It’s half the size of this one, and there’s no dressing room.’
The princess gave her a bland look, admirably concealing irritation. ‘When Kit leaves, you shall have the bamboo room, of course.’
‘I thought you said his name was Christmas.’
‘So it is,’ the princess agreed. ‘He was born on Christmas day. Come along, Beatrice, let’s go down for this very delayed lunch...’ She positively shepherded her sister-in-law out into the passage, and returned a second later for one brief and remarkable sentence, half instruction, half entreaty.
‘Stay in this house,’ she said, ‘until she is gone.’
After lunch, Litsi, Danielle and I went up to the disputed territory to look at the form, Litsi observing that his money was on Beatrice to winkle me out of all this splendour before tomorrow night.
‘Did you see the dagger looks you were getting across the half-defrosted mousseline?’
‘Couldn’t miss them.’
‘And those pointed remarks about good manners, unselfishness, and the proper precedence of rank?’
The princess had behaved as if she hadn’t heard, sweetly making enquiries about Beatrice’s health, her dogs, and the weather in Florida in February. Roland de Brescou, as very often, had remained upstairs for lunch, his door barricaded, I had no doubt. The princess with soft words would defend him.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘here’s this form.’
I retrieved it from under my blue shorts and gave it to Litsi, who wandered with it over to a group of comfortable chairs near the window. He read it attentively, sitting down absent-mindedly, a big man with natural presence and unextended power. I liked him and because of Danielle feared him, a contradictory jumble of emotion, but I also trusted his overall air of amiable competence.
I moved across the room to join him, and Danielle also, and after a while he raised his head and frowned.
‘For a start,’ he said, ‘this is not an application form for a licence to make or export arms. Are you sure that’s what Nanterre said it was?’
I thought back. ‘As far as I remember, it was the lawyer Gerald Greening who said it was a government form for preliminary application for a licence. I understood that that was what Henri Nanterre had told the princess in her box at Newbury.’
‘Well, it isn’t a government form at all. It isn’t an application for any sort of licence. What it is is a very vague and general form which would be used by simple people to draw up a contract.’ He paused. ‘In England, I believe one can buy from stationers’ shops a printed form for making a will. The legal words are all there to ensure that the will is properly executed. One simply inserts in the spaces what one wants done, like leaving the car to one’s grandson. It’s what’s written into the spaces that really counts. Well, this form is rather like that. The legal form of words is correct, so that this would be a binding document, if properly signed and properly witnessed.’ He glanced down at the paper. ‘It’s impossible to tell of course how Henri Nanterre had filled in all the spaces, but I would guess that overall it would say merely that the parties named in the contract had agreed on the course of action outlined by the accompanying documents. I would think that this form would be attached to, and act as page one, of a bulk of papers which would include all sorts of things like factory capacity, overseas sales forces, preliminary orders from customers and the specifications of the guns proposed to be manufactured. All sorts of things. But this simple form with Roland’s signature on it would validate the whole presentation. It would be taken very seriously indeed as a full statement of intent. With this in his hands, Henri Nanterre could apply for his licence immediately.’