The French House, Helen Fripp [e textbook reader .txt] 📗

a fight with the big boys. Xavier pushed me down here all those years ago to hide from them in the chaos. I thought it was like a fairy grotto.’

‘Nothing much has changed, then. The world up there is changing, too fast,’ said Alexei.

They walked on in silence, through the labyrinth of cellars. Kilometres of wine, carts, chimneys, she didn’t want it to end. She stopped at the place, reached behind the rack of vin de Sillery and brushed off the dust.

FC♥BNP scratched into the wall.

He touched her arm. ‘You have Mentine.’

‘She is a joy. Amazing how you try so hard to impose yourself, but they go their own way whatever you do. Come down here.’

They walked and walked, each corridor with its own story. He listened, intently, asked endless questions. The hours passed until they were about halfway through, on the home trajectory. Impossible to tell if it was day or night down here, but morning couldn’t be far off.

‘You’ve heard so much about me. How about you? Tell me your story. I know nothing about you, apart from the fact that you’re a general and you’re Russian and you know everything there is to know about wine… and that you have a scar you don’t want to talk about.’

‘I prefer to be lost in your world for tonight. I will tell you one day, I promise, but for now this is your place and your story and you make me forget. I don’t sleep, most of the time. It makes me a great soldier but a miserable human being. Can we just keep walking?’

They continued, just the two of them in the peace and dark. She didn’t want it to be morning. Since the day François had died, she had felt so alone. Not tonight, with Alexei.

‘Here. This was a highlight, the best harvest ever, 1811. My year of the comet wines. The racks have been rebuilt since I was last here. Your men guzzled some of it when they raided me.’

‘I’ve done my best to make up for that, at least I hope I have… I’m intrigued about something. There were thousands of bottles of champagne in the shipment we helped load and not one of them was cloudy or spoiled as far as I could tell. How do you do that?’

She smiled again at his endless knowledge. Of course he had noticed her clear champagne; he missed nothing.

‘Top-secret information, even from you.’

‘Not even tonight, when it’s just us?’

‘Only four people in the world know.’

‘Classified information is my speciality.’ He saluted. ‘All intelligence stops here.’

She studied him for a few moments, not sure she was ready to share her most precious advantage. He was nothing to do with the business, or Reims, or anyone she knew in this little town. He had done nothing but help her and, like her, he was endlessly fascinated by the charm of winemaking. He wasn’t immoral, like Thérésa, or weak, like Xavier. And most of all, she was overwhelmed with a feeling she wanted to share everything with this man who had appeared in her life as mysteriously and portentously as the comet. Thérésa had given her a shard of ice in her heart, but this man was different. If he’d wanted to, he could have forced his way in weeks ago and she would have been powerless to stop him.

‘Follow me,’ she said, decided, fumbling for the key. She knew it by touch – the second largest on the key ring. She unclipped it and gave it to him, then led him to the riddling-room door. He put the key in the lock, but the door opened of its own accord.

‘Louis! What are you doing here at this hour?’

‘Early start,’ he said, eyeing Alexei. They must have walked all night. ‘And you are?’

Alexei held out his hand. ‘General Marin. Good morning.’

‘Of course, our biggest buyer. Madame Clicquot here is doing my job for me, it seems,’ said Louis, closing the door behind him. ‘Shall I use the key to lock up?’

‘No need, I was just showing General Marin around.’

‘But not in here, surely?’

‘Yes, in here. He’s interested, and don’t worry, I trust him, though he might not look so trustworthy in that Russian coat.’

‘Don’t on my account. I was just curious,’ Alexei murmured.

She frowned at Louis, who was simply staring at Alexei. Why was he being so rude?

‘I think you’re needed at the press yard for the bottle delivery?’

‘Yes, Madame Clicquot. Of course, straight away.’

‘Good,’ she said.

He left, slamming the door behind him.

‘I think I may be stepping on someone’s toes,’ said Alexei.

‘I make the decisions,’ she said.

‘I’ll remember not to cross you!’ He opened the door. ‘After you, Madame Clicquot.’

‘Wait here, close your eyes.’

Nicole rushed around the room lighting all the lamps and turning them on to full blaze; the place always gave her a rush of excitement. The tables came into focus, row upon row of clear gold.

‘You can open them now.’

He surveyed the tables, ran his hand over the upturned bottles. ‘This is your secret? This is how you achieve consistent clarity in your champagnes?’

He walked up and down, admiring the ordered rows of the riddling tables as she explained how it worked.

‘It’s like all the best military campaigns. Unbelievably simple, gives you a massive advantage over the enemy, but no one’s ever thought of it until now. This is going to make you a fortune, as long as you continue to fend off the Russian hordes.’

‘At least one of the horde is welcome. If I could get it to Russia, it would be worth its weight in gold.’

‘No one’s buying because of the war?’

‘It’s impossible, French exports are totally banned. Louis, who you just met, was imprisoned as a French spy on his last trip there and I can’t risk my staff, or the cargo being confiscated or dumped if it doesn’t make it through.’

‘Let me help you. I have some influence with the Tsar and when we eventually return, the whole country’s going to be