Thurston House Read online

  And when André called Sabrina later that afternoon, he still detected the same hysterical tone in her voice. “What did Amelia say?”

  “She still couldn’t talk to me. She has a fever and a terrible sore throat.”

  “Oh my God … of all times … did you get the woman out? You know, she may be an impostor anyway. I thought of that after we talked before.” But Sabrina shook her head silently.

  “I don’t think so, André. She knows this house perfectly, even after all these years.”

  “Perhaps someone prompted her. Some old disgruntled employee of yours.” But there was another reason why Sabrina believed that she was indeed Camille Beauchamp, and that was that she looked exactly like Jon. She told André and he didn’t sound pleased for her. “Why do you suppose she’s come back now?”

  “She’s made no secret of that.” Tears filled Sabrina’s eyes again. “She wants the house, André.”

  “Thurston House?” He sounded horrified. Even in the short time he had known Sabrina, he knew how much it meant to her, and he had come to love it too. “That’s preposterous!”

  “I hope the courts think so. And my lawyer is out of town till next month. What in God’s name am I going to do? She’s as stubborn as a mule, and she moved right into the guest suite, as though I’d been expecting her.” If it hadn’t been so awful, she would have laughed. “How can she do this to me?”

  “Apparently easily.” And then he said something that he felt rather cautious about. “What part exactly does Jon play in all this?”

  She didn’t understand that yet herself, and she didn’t want to accuse him falsely to André, but just from the little she had heard from Camille, she suspected that there was something very ugly afoot. “I don’t know that yet.” And it was obvious that she didn’t want to say more about it to him at that point.

  “Isn’t there something I can do for you?”

  “Yes.” Sabrina smiled miserably. “Throw her out. Make her disappear, make her never have come back.”

  “I wish I could.”

  There was a silence between them for a moment or two. “You know, for so many years, I used to dream about her … to wonder what she was like … once I snuck into this house when I was about twelve years old, or maybe thirteen, and I went through some of her things that I found … and now she turns up, and she’s an evil, awful woman, out for what she can get.… I wish I’d never seen her, André, if she really is who she says she is.”

  “I hope she’s not.” Or perhaps it would put the ghost to rest at last. It was hard to tell. But it was too late for that anyway. She was there and she had dug in her heels, and now Sabrina had to get her out. She spent the entire night awake in her room, thinking about it, wanting to run into the guest suite and shake the woman out of her bed, but instead they met in the kitchen over breakfast the next day, and for a woman of her age, Sabrina had to admit to herself that Camille was still beautiful, and she must have been extraordinary fifty years before when her father married her … fifty years … or forty-nine anyway. It was amazing to think about and Sabrina sat for a moment, staring at her, wondering what had gone wrong, why she had left, why she had never come back, who Dupré was, and if perhaps that was the key. But she said nothing at all to her. She just stared at the table and drank her tea. It was impossible to believe that this had happened to her. As when John had died, she had a feeling of the whole world being upside down, and Camille floated around the kitchen happily, as though she was happy to have finally come home. Sabrina looked up at her again in astonishment and at last Camille sat down again, and the two women looked at each other, mother and daughter brought together at long last by circumstances or perhaps greed, having met the last time forty-six years before when Sabrina was a year old. What had Camille been like then, she asked herself, and then suddenly she remembered something Hannah had said a long time ago, about gold rings that Camille had used for birth control, and Hannah finding them … and her father being irate … and Sabrina coming along after that. She suddenly had an urge to ask her if they’d wanted her, but she knew the answer to that, and what difference did it make? She was forty-seven years old and had a grown child of her own, her father had loved her very much, and her mother was … dead, she had been thinking to herself. But she wasn’t dead. She’d been gone.

  “Why did you really leave him?” The words sprang from Sabrina almost involuntarily. “Tell me the truth about that.”

  “I told you.” She avoided Sabrina’s eyes. “My mother was sick. She died shortly after that.” Camille didn’t seem anxious to discuss it with her.

  “Were you with her when she died?”

  “I was in France at the time.” Why lie to her? What difference did it make now? She was back in the house. She was still Jeremiah Thurston’s wife, and Sabrina was terrified. Jon had been right, Camille was tougher than Sabrina was. The fort had been taken, almost without a fight. Camille was proud of herself. It had gone much better than she had planned, and when Jon came home, it would be even easier. An ally would help her a great deal. And he had promised her all his help.

  “Did you live in France for long?”

  “Thirty-four years.”

  “That’s quite a while. Did you marry again?” She was trying to trap Camille, but her mother only smiled at her.

  “No. I did not, although I use a different name.”

  “You’re not a countess by birth … and the du Pré?…”

  She looked Sabrina straight in the eye. “He was my patron in France.”

  “I see. You were his mistress then.” Sabrina smiled sweetly at her. “I wonder how that affects your claim. Thirty-four years is a long time.”

  “During which, I was legally married to Jeremiah Thurston the entire time, and still am. You can’t change that fact, Sabrina, no matter how hard you try.”

  “I just think it’s interesting that you went on with your life with your … er … patron.…” She particularly stressed the word hoping to make Camille blush, but there was no hope of that. “And now you come back for this house. It’s certainly convenient at any rate. Have you made your Thanksgiving plans yet? Or are you going to redecorate? I mean after all, why waste a moment’s time?” There was a bitter, vicious tone in Sabrina’s voice that was unusual for her.

  André arrived shortly before noon. Camille was sweeping down the main stairs, and she smiled at him. He was an extremely attractive man and she was delighted to find that he was French, although her delight lessened when she realized that he was in Sabrina’s camp and he was going to do everything he could to get Camille out of there. She attempted to chat with him about France, she seemed to have lived most of the time in some very small town in the South, but she had spent a little time in Paris too, and she attempted to pretend that she had led a glamorous life there, but he knew it for a lie and brushed her off. He wanted to speak to Sabrina alone.

  “Have you locked up the silverware and the jewels? She could be a very clever common thief, you know.” But Sabrina laughed at that.

  “The only jewels I have were hers, or most of them anyway. At the rate she moves, she’ll demand them back anyway.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t give them to her. And I think you should call the police.” He didn’t like the look of her. But when he called the police himself and tried to explain, they told him that they didn’t get involved in family affairs, and a call to another attorney they knew was discouraging. He said they would have to fight it out in court, and now that she had moved in, it would be almost impossible to get her out until then, unless they threw her out bodily and then she could easily sue. “You shouldn’t have let her in yesterday.” André sounded matter-of-fact and she stared at him.

  “Are you crazy? How was I supposed to know? She moved in here like a division of Russian tanks and the next thing I knew she was throwing my clothes on a chair. I’m just lucky she agreed to move into the guest suite, or I’d be sleeping in there myself.”

  “
What?” He tried to make light of it, but it was difficult to do. “She’s sleeping in my room! Get her out!” Sabrina laughed, but there were tears again too.

  “I just don’t understand, André.” It had been a tremendous shock. “Why didn’t my father say anything?”

  “God only knows what passed between them. From the sound and the look of her, she’s a tough customer, and I don’t believe the story she told you. It’s a damn shame Amelia won’t come to the phone.” But he tried her again and this time she did, croaking horribly and complaining about her throat, but at least she set them straight, and she told them what Camille had done about the affair with du Pré, and that she had abandoned them.

  “I’m sorry she’s come back to haunt you now. She was a terrible, selfish, mean-hearted young girl then, and it doesn’t sound as though she’s improved with age.”

  Sabrina smiled sadly at her friend’s words. “I don’t think she has.” And then she thought back over what Amelia had said about Camille’s flight. “My father must have been heartbroken.” Now she understood even better his unwillingness to talk about her. He had never recovered from the shock.

  “He was very hurt. But he had you.” Amelia smiled, thinking back. “You were the joy of his life. In later years, I don’t think he missed her very much. He got on with his life. But for the first few years … it was very rough.”

  Sabrina decided to ask her then. “Is it true that he had a mistress and maybe that was why she left?”

  “Not at all!” Amelia sounded outraged on behalf of her old friend. “He was totally faithful to Camille. I would vouch for it myself. In fact, he was very upset that you took as long as you did to come along.” She didn’t want to tell her about the perfidy with the rings although she still remembered that, and she didn’t know that Sabrina knew. “It turned out that Camille had something to do with that herself, and your father was very upset about that, but we won’t discuss that now, my dear. Be a good girl now, and don’t let all this worry you, just throw her out.”

  “I wish I could. Apparently we have to go to court first.”

  “What a dreadful ordeal for you, poor child.” At forty-seven, Sabrina was no child, but she was touched by Amelia’s words. “The woman ought to be shot. Actually, Jeremiah should have done that long ago, it would have made things a great deal simpler for you now.”

  “It would that.” Sabrina smiled, grateful that there had been someone to call. “I’ll tell you how it turns out.”

  “You do that. And how is André, by the way? I take it you two are rebuilding the world and plan to fill it with drunks.”

  “One of these days.” Sabrina laughed at Amelia’s description of their plans. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Except for this throat. I seem determined to live forever, in spite of myself.”

  “Good. We need you around.”

  “Well, you don’t need her. And you never did. So throw her out as soon as you can.”

  “Amen.” Sabrina thanked her and hung up and turned to André again. There was absolutely nothing they could do until they went to court, and with that Camille floated through the room in a white chiffon dress, with diamond earrings Sabrina suspected weren’t real. She looked at André in despair. “What am I going to do?” The prospect of living with her until they went to court almost drove her mad, and when Jon returned the next day, things did not improve. He greeted Camille like his long-lost friend and beloved grandmother, an expected guest, and Sabrina went straight to his room and closed the door. She stood facing him as he sat on the bed and he didn’t look as though he were in the mood to talk, but she wasn’t offering a choice.

  “I want to talk to you, Jon.”

  “What about?” But he was playing with her. He knew, and it amused him to think of how angry she would be. What the hell? Why not? She never gave him what he wanted anymore, the Grand Tour, the car he had been begging for for three years. She just cried poor all the time, and whined about Thurston House. Well, now Grandmother would take it off her hands, and she could go live in Napa with the French farmer she was so busy planting grapes with. And he and his grandmother could live in splendor at Thurston House. And Grandmother had promised him a car, once she got things worked out. That was definitely his style, and he could hardly wait. It was going to be a very amusing senior year, with a car of his own, if they worked things out soon enough, and the Grand Tour at the end, a graduation present, Grandmother had said, and after that he was moving to New York to find a job so he didn’t care who lived in the house anyway. He probably never would again, not for any serious length of time. He thought San Francisco a pathetic, provincial little town. He was ready for New York after three years in Cambridge, although they were certainly nice to him everywhere … Boston … Atlanta … Philadelphia … Washington.…

  “I want an explanation from you.” His mind was torn back from pleasanter thoughts by his mother glaring down at him. She was almost shaking with rage, and there would be no avoiding her. But she couldn’t do anything to him now. Grandmother was already in the house, and she had gotten in all by herself. Originally, she had wanted Jon to let her in while Sabrina was away, but apparently he had refused to go that far, and she had agreed to handle it herself. He knew she could. She was even tougher than Sabrina was, but somehow she seemed to have more in common with Jon, they thought the same way, as Sabrina feared now, and that was something else she wanted to discuss with him. “Just exactly what role did you play in this?” Her eyes were relentless as they bored through him now.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play games with me. She tells me she’s known you for almost three years. Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

  “I thought you’d be upset.” But he averted his eyes and without warning, she reached out and slapped his face.

  “Don’t lie to me!”

  He looked up at her, shocked. She had never looked at him that way before. Her eyes hurt more than her hand, but she had never felt more betrayed, and the more she had thought about it, the angrier she got. “Dammit, what difference does it make who I know! Do I have to tell you everything I do?”

  “She’s my mother, Jon, and you met her three years ago. Why did you help her do this?”

  “I did no such thing,” and then as he looked at her he shrugged, “maybe she has as much right to this house as you do. She says she was married to Grandfather when he died.”

  “You could have warned me of that, couldn’t you?” He didn’t answer her, and her voice rose again. “Couldn’t you?” And then, “You know what the worst thing about all this is, Jon? It’s what you did to me. She’s never been a mother to me, but you are my son, and you not only let this happen, you helped her set it up. How does that make you feel about yourself?”

  He looked right into her eyes, belligerent and hostile to the end, and something inside her began to die as she looked at him. “I feel fine.”

  “Then I feel sorry for you.”

  “I don’t need anything from you.” He said it as Sabrina left the room. She couldn’t control herself anymore, and she couldn’t bear what she was seeing in him. He was so much like Camille, and for so many years she had wondered about him. He was different from her father, from his own, from herself, but now suddenly she had traced the genes back to their source inadvertently. He was exactly like Camille, and evil to the core. He had no loyalty to Sabrina at all, after all she had done for him. Somewhere, sometime, something had gotten twisted in him and it had never gotten straightened out again, and it was almost too late now. Particularly if Camille stuck around to bring out the worst in him. In the next few days, she watched the two of them collaborate and conspire, whisper and go out. Sabrina felt totally abandoned by her son. The two of them had ganged up on her, and she had other things to do too. But she couldn’t concentrate on anything now, and she didn’t dare leave the house and go to Napa to see André and their land. She was afraid that if she left, they would do something even wor
se to her, like pillage the house, or steal her things, or maybe even change the locks and not let her back in.

  “You can’t sit there terrified for the next few months.” André was genuinely worried about her.

  “Do you think it’ll take that long?”

  “It could. You know what the lawyer said.”

  “I think I’ll go mad before that.”

  “Not until you come up here and make some decisions about the wines.” And then he had an idea. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll send Antoine down, and he can stay there at the house and keep an eye on things while you come up here, and when you go back, he’ll come back up here.” It was an elaborate system, but it worked. And for the next two months that was exactly what they did. And by then her attorney was back, and he had the matter in hand. He also agreed that there was very little they could do. It would have to go to court, and that might take another two months. In the meantime, Jon had to go back to school, and when he did, the chill between him and his mother hadn’t warmed. He went out to dinner with Camille the night before he left, and Sabrina went out to dinner with André and Antoine. The bitterness between them was almost irreparable now, and she almost felt sometimes as though she had lost her son. And in a sense she had, to Camille. So far, Camille had won nothing else, but that part of the battle had been won. She was promising Jon the moon, once they got Sabrina out of the house. And through it all, she still felt as though he were wreaking vengeance on her because his father had died, and because she had worked at the mines. He would never forgive her for those things, and now he was going to make her pay for the rest of her life. She said as much to André one day as they were walking through the vines.