Chateau of Secrets: A Novel by Melanie Dobson Read Free Book Online Page A

of a window until it opened.
    The lock had been broken for years—it had been an easy way for her to sneak in and out at night to meet Nadine, before her friend married André. Her heart pounding, Gisèle lifted one leg onto the windowsill and then pulled herself through, into the small study.
    “Papa?” she whispered in the darkness.
    Accounting ledgers, newspapers, and the Farmers’ Almanac were piled up on the side of Papa’s desk, and his wireless stood against the wall beside it. When she was younger, she’d been afraid of the dark, and in the evenings, she’d often draped herself over the damask chair beside the desk and pretended to read while he pored over his books. Really she’d been watching him, fascinated as he calculated his figures and talked business on his black telephone and thumbed through La Croix. In the cadence of his work, she found comfort. After her mother passed away, she’d known her father would take care of her.
    But if Papa had already left the château, she would have to care for herself. Like she’d wanted to do in Paris.
    She lifted the telephone receiver from the cradle, to call Tante Corinne and see if she’d heard from Philippe, but the line was dead. Sighing, she dropped the receiver back onto the brass bands.
    She leaned back against the open window, the warm moonlight casting shadows over the office. In the silence of her home, she listened to the sound of her breathing. Was Papa someplace inside the house? Or were there Germans hiding upstairs?
    No matter how much she hoped the Germans had kept marching down the valley, she didn’t know for certain, and she hated this, the feeling that her home was no longer a safe place.
    Something moved behind the desk, and her breath caught in her throat. Clenching her fists, she willed herself to be strong, but her courage dissolved within her. She turned to flee back out of the window until she heard the softest of meows from under the desk. The trappings of her breath slipped out as she ducked under the desktop.
    The source of her fear was crouched in the dark corner. A kitten.
    “How did you get in here?” she whispered as she gently pulled him out into the light.
    The kitten reached up with its paw and batted her nose.
    She cradled him close to the window, brushing her face over his soft gray fur. On his neck was a white fleck in the shape of a star, and she could feel his tiny ribs through his skin.
    “If Papa found you, he would put you right back outside where you belong,” she said, scolding him.
    She scratched his chin, and he purred back at her. A kitten could do nothing to protect her, yet somehow it made her feel more secure, bold even, to have it near. She dug through the top drawer of Papa’s desk until she found the flashlight he kept for when the electricity failed. Then, the kitten in her arms, shecrept through the large dining salon, past the long table and massive fireplace with the three lambs carved on the mantel. On her left side, a row of windows framed the courtyard, chapelle , and long drive. On the other side of the room four windows overlooked the river valley and the grassy hill and forest across the valley.
    “Papa?” she called out again as she tiptoed into the foyer. No one responded, but the front door was partially open.
    Had someone been here, or had Papa left the door open when he left?
    She closed it.
    On the other side of the foyer was the kitchen, and when she stepped inside, she flipped on the flashlight and set the kitten beside the brick fireplace. Copper pots hung neatly on each side of the mantel and two cast iron kettles rested along the hearth. The fireplace was built when the château was renovated in the seventeenth century, but their cook only used the white gas oven her parents had installed before she was born.
    Gisèle stared at the spokes on the range and then looked at the three drawers beside it. She should make Michel some bread or something else, but how was she supposed to