The Mystery, page 10
There was also a magnificent marble fireplace against the wall in the centre of the room, with two large ornamental statues of dogs sitting either side.
“I’m sure you are wondering, Valentina, what I’m doing living in a villa of such enormity by myself?” he asked.
“Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, I suppose it is quite large for just one person,” she responded.
“It, in fact, belonged to a great uncle of mine on my mother’s side of the family. My mother was of Italian origin but settled in Paris after she met and married my father, who, of course, was French,” he continued. “I have three servants who live in. A housekeeper, a cook and of course, my chauffeur, Lorenzo. Alessandra is the girl who met us in the hallway, she is my housekeeper, then there is Celso my chef. I’m sure you will be delighted with his culinary delights this evening. How is your appetite?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m rather hungry, thank you,” Valentina replied. At that moment, Alessandra entered the drawing room to announce that dinner was ready. She then escorted the couple into the grand dining room just off from the hallway, again it was palatial. The dining table was long and ornate surrounded by 12 gilded chairs richly upholstered in red velvet.
Jean Claude once again took Valentina by the hand to lead her to her seat. The table was laid with the finest gold plated cutlery, white linen napkins, and several sizes of wine glasses.
Jean Claude sat at the head of the table with Valentina on his right. There was a grand chiffonier along the back wall, which was laden with crystal decanters of wines and spirits.
Alessandra poured white wine from the decanters into the smaller glasses then red wine in the larger ones. There was also a decanter of water already on the table which she used to top up their water glasses. She then left the room to bring in the first course.
Much to Valentina’s surprise, the first course was French onion soup laced with gruyere cheese on top together with warm baguettes of individual sizes. The taste was so delicious she was getting giddy about the next course. The white wine was also French, a Sancerre, which she enjoyed tremendously. The second course was traditional French scallops or Coquilles Saint Jacques served with a luscious sage sauce, which suddenly reminded Valentina of the night at the San Rocco where she and James were about to dine. She remembered he had ordered scallops for his first course. She took a large sip of her wine in the hope it would obliterate the image from her memory. She then turned to Jean Claude as he indulged on his gourmet dinner.
“Jean Claude, I was not expecting such wonderful French food and wine. I thought perhaps the cuisine may be Italian.” she smiled.
“Oh, Valentina, I’m full of surprises.” He smiled back. With those words, she was suddenly reminded that she said the same to James the morning he was leaving for Maggiore.
‘Could that have been the phrase she used that had been the start of the failure of their brief relationship, taken out of context?’ She wondered to herself. Alessandra came in to remove the second course dishes after topping up their white wine and water glasses. Valentina was expecting some kind of red meat dish to follow, as they were served red wine also.
“Are you enjoying so far, Valentina?” Jean Claude asked.
“Oh very much so, merci, monsieur,” she replied with a cheeky grin.
“I was not aware you could speak French.” He grinned back.
“I can’t,” replied Valentina. “But I love to hear the French accent,” she acknowledged.
“You do?” he replied. “Very interesting.”
Valentina felt her cheeks flush red, as she downed another mouthful of white wine.
“So,” continued Jean Claude in a serious tone, “tell me more about this British psychiatrist…this friend of yours?”
“Well, he—” their brief conversation was suddenly interrupted by the presence of Alessandra arriving with their third course.
Chateaubriand for two served with a port wine jus, accompanied with gratin dauphinoise potatoes and a side dish of ratatouille. It looks and smells amazing! Valentina thought.
“A voter sante.” smiled Jean Claude as he picked up his glass of Saint-Émilion. Valentina followed suit then they clinked their glasses. The food was delicious. There was silence between them as they tucked into the perfectly cooked beef, then Jean Claude turned to Valentina with a strange request.
“Valentina, I have watched you dance on several occasions whilst at Antonio’s. You have great rhythm and expression when you’re on the dance floor. I would very much like you to dance for me this evening, please, as my private dancer.”
Unbeknown to Jean Claude, Valentina had studied classical ballet and contemporary dance at New York City Ballet in her youth. It was true, she loved to dance; it was a way of expressing herself and becoming a different person. Dancing gave her a sense of freedom.
She was stunned at such a request. Her eyes widened expressing a sense of shock almost.
She took a deep breath in then exhaled. She remained speechless.
“You look surprised, Valentina, are you OK?” Jean Claude asked nonchalantly.
“The answer is simple, yes or no?” he continued abruptly.
Valentina, as usual when she was nervous, became tongue-tied.
“I-I-I’m n-n-not sure, l-let me think, think about it,” she stuttered in reply.
Their final dish was simply crème brûlée. However, Valentina had more of a savoury tooth than a sweet one, so she declined the desert, much to Jean Claude’s disapproving eyes. He appeared to be a desert lover, devouring every last morsel from the ramekin.
Dinner now over, they went back to the drawing room where they had coffee.
Jean Claude continued to inquire about James. Valentina explained they had met in London three years previously and that, just by coincidence, he happened to be staying at The San Rocco Hotel, the same time as she. She kept it hidden from Jean Claude that she had been his patient whilst attending the Nightingale Hospital.
“Why are you so interested in Dr Wainwright?” she inquired.
“I just wondered what the connection was between you,” he answered.
Jean Claude sat back in his winged chair, observing Valentina intensely.
“Valentina,” he murmured in a softly spoken voice. “I have something to show you.”
He stood from the chair taking Valentina by the hand, then escorted her out of the drawing room into the hallway and up the wide grand staircase to the first floor, where he led her into a room. On entering the room, she noticed a magnificent stained glass window, with the words: ‘Fede, Speranza, Amore,’ etched into three separate panels of the glass at the top. The words translated into English were faith, hope, love. She thought it was quite exquisite.
There were two winged chairs, a large chest of draws, floor to ceiling mirrored wardrobes and a magnificent ornate four poster bed of super king proportion, by which stood matching bedside tables on either side. In between the two winged chairs stood a coffee table, on which was a silver tray. Two crystal decanters, one of which held white liquid the other coloured, stood alongside two crystal-cut brandy glasses. A special feature of the room was another grand fireplace similar to the one in the drawing room. Valentina imagined how wonderful it would look in the wintertime when a fire would be lit. So cosy and alluring!
“Take a seat, Valentina,” Jean Claude announced. “Will you join me in a nightcap and sample this delicious vintage French cognac?” He asked.
Valentina sat in the winged chair that she felt was so comfortable and relaxing. There was a small matching footstool that Jean Claude placed in front of her. He gently removed her shoes then placed her feet onto the footstool. He poured the cognac from the decanter into the crystal brandy glass then placed it beside her on the table; he then poured one for himself. They each simultaneously took a sip of the warm comforting spirit as they looked into each other’s eyes. Valentina was now feeling very relaxed. Exquisite food, wonderful wine, superb surroundings. She felt the ice had now been broken between her and Jean Claude and as she took another sip of cognac all her inhibitions began to diminish.
Jean Claude stood to his feet, he slowly walked towards the chest of draws from which he produced a music player. Valentina watched in great trepidation.
He then produced a compact disc, which he loaded into the player. He turned to Valentina with a look of intent.
“This is for you, mon cherie,” he whispered. Walking towards her, he gently removed her feet from the footstool and pulled her up from the chair. Walking back to the music player, he set the CD to play.
“Dance for me, Valentina. Dance,” he commanded.
The song Sadness by ‘Enigma’ began to play, part one. The title of which is a combination of the words ‘Sade’ and ‘sadness’. ‘Sade’ referring to Marquis de Sade, a French novelist whose sexual activities gave us the word ‘sadism’. He believed sex had to be painful in order to be pleasurable which also refers to ‘principles of lust’. Part two and three is Find Love.
Valentina on hearing the music, could not control her desire to dance. The effect of the alcohol was so strong, all inhibitions had escaped her. She was now under the spell of Jean Claude Renoir. Sitting down in his chair, he commanded her to dance once again.
With eagle eyes, he stared as she swung her hips from side to side, dancing on tiptoe she swirled her arms around in the air and performed sexy movements with impeccable timing.
She felt free and alive and began to lose herself in the music.
As the music came to its climax, Valentina began to mimic the heavy breathing she could hear on the track. She slowly danced from the bed back towards Jean Claude where she knelt by his feet as the track concluded. His hawk-like stare penetrating her bright blue eyes. She slowly came to her senses again then stood to her feet, sitting back in the chair.
“Oh dear, I think I’ve had a little too much to drink,” she confessed.
“I expect your appetite has now been satisfied, Jean Claude,” she asked.
“Oh Valentina, it gives me great pleasure watching you dance,” he replied then began to laugh out loud.
Valentina began to feel stupid and embarrassed, wishing she had never accepted his invitation.
“Well, thank you for dinner, I think it’s time I was getting back home,” she said with a serious tone.
“Oh, Valentina, it’s much too late to be crossing the lake at this time of the night, but don’t worry, all your needs for tonight have been taken care of,” he answered.
“What do you mean?” She gasped, checking her wristwatch. It was five minutes past midnight.
“You can stay the night and tomorrow after breakfast, I’ll escort you back across the lake. Are you OK with that, Valentina?” he asked with a sardonic grin.
“Well no! Not really, it wasn’t in the plan for me to stay the night, Jean Claude, and besides, I have no provisions with me.”
“Oh, no need to worry, Valentina, as I have told you, all your needs are taken care of.”
Valentina couldn’t believe she was trapped at his villa. She felt vulnerable and speechless. Oh, James, she thought, where are you, darling? I need you right now.
Jean Claude stood from his chair and walked over to the bed. He used a device to contact one of his servants. Within a few seconds, there was a knock at the door. “Entrée,” he pronounced in a loud voice.
Alessandra entered the room.
“Please escort Ms Rossi to her room, Alessandra,” he commanded.
“Sì, signore,” she obeyed.
Valentina feeling awkward and embarrassed followed Alessandra out of the room.
“Buona notte, Valentina,” Jean Claude called out.
Alessandra closed the door of his bedroom firmly behind her then escorted Valentina across the large landing to one of the bedrooms.
“Everything you require is here for you, signora,” she said as they entered the room. “Buona notte.”
Valentina thanked her in Italian and bid her good night. As she looked around the room, it was obvious to her that she was not the first female to encounter Jean Claude’s wayward intentions. Everything about it was completely feminine. From the pink, satin bed covers to the pastel-coloured painted walls and the white, wooden furniture, and soft, satin cushions. The dressing table was adorned with hairbrushes, combs, tissues and cotton wool. Valentina also noticed a white chiffon négligée laid out on the bed. She began to wonder if this was a regular occurrence for the many females Jean Claude entertained. Yet he didn’t have a particular woman in his life. She thought it was quite odd and very mysterious.
On entering the ensuite bathroom, there was a display of cleansing creams, toners, moisturisers, shower gels, body creams and perfume, namely Chanel No. 5 in addition to an array of toothbrushes and paste.
A white plush cotton bathrobe was hung behind the door. Everything had been thought out precisely to accommodate a woman’s needs. There were even supplies and a disposal unit should it be that particular time of the month.
Valentina noticing the products decided to remove her makeup, cleanse her skin and moisturise. She stripped off her clothes in favour of the bathrobe then returned to the bedroom where she locked the door. Removing the plush bathrobe, she slipped into the bed, naked, where she eventually fell asleep.
The following morning, Valentina awoke disoriented, for a few moments she couldn’t quite make out where she was. Looking around the room, it suddenly dawned on her she was still at Jean Claude’s villa. She could hear the faint ticking of the bedside clock, which she checked for the time. It was 9:20 am precisely.
Goodness, she thought. It’s late, I’ve slept in.
She decided not to shower until she reached home, as she only had the attire she wore the night before. Being mostly black, this felt alien to Valentina, as it was now daytime, the sun was shining and she needed her clothes to be light coloured and casual. She put on the robe lying beside her on the bed and went to the bathroom to dress.
Leaving the bedroom behind, she walked down the grand staircase hoping to find Jean Claude in the drawing room.
Jean Claude was sitting in his winged chair, reading a newspaper, a pot of coffee by his side. As Valentina walked into the room, he looked over his reading glasses and bid her “Good morning. I trust you slept well,” he continued.
“Yes, a little too well, I think. I didn’t expect it to be so late,” she answered.
“Yes, well, I thought I would wait for you, we can breakfast now if you wish?”
Valentina gave a gentle nod. She was not particularly hungry but certainly needed to quench her thirst.
Jean Claude put down his newspaper then stood from the chair.
Taking Valentina by the hand, he escorted her from the drawing room across the hallway, into what he referred to as ‘the breakfast nook’.
It wasn’t as grand or palatial as the dining room, but it was cosy and ambient. The table had been set for two, with a hot and cold breakfast buffet served from a trolley. Valentina could not believe the amount of food that was on offer for just two people. She was hoping the three servants would have their fair share of whatever remained. There was scrambled eggs, eggs Benedict and bacon. Several different varieties of bread, warm croissants and pan de chocolate. A selection of teas, coffee, water and orange juice, plus a large display of fresh fruit.
Now seated at the table, Alessandra entered the room asking what their drink preferences were. Valentina, being so thirsty, settled on water, orange juice and Earl Grey tea.
“How is your appetite this morning?” Jean Claude asked.
“Not quite as good as the thirst I have,” she replied.
“Oh well, we did drink quite a lot last night, didn’t we, Valentina?” he said with a sarcastic smile, and then began to laugh again. This made Valentina feel uncomfortable.
“Why don’t you try the eggs, they are really tasty. My chef, Celso, cooks them to perfection.”
“No, thank you,” replied Valentina. “I’m really not that hungry this morning.” She nibbled on a croissant and drank lots of tea and water.
“I’m so glad you accepted my dinner invitation, Valentina, before I go off on my travels. We must do it again sometime.”
Oh no! thought Valentina. I never want to do this again.
“Travels, Jean Claude? Where are you off to?” she inquired.
“First thing tomorrow morning, I’m off to Lake Maggiore, for a week at a seminar, staying at the Villa Carlotta Hotel, très bon,” he answered with yet another loud laugh.
On hearing this, Valentina almost choked as she nibbled on her croissant.
Villa Carlotta? she thought. That’s where James is staying. Her mind began to race with all kinds of thoughts and questions.
What if he sees James and tells him I was here for dinner, worst still, I stayed the night. Oh God, what was I thinking to accept his invitation? Valentina felt sick!
“Are you not feeling well, Valentina, you look like you have just seen a ghost, your pallor is not good. Come, I’ll arrange to take you back,” Jean Claude announced.
Helping her up from the table, she felt a little weak, a jelly-like sensation passing through her legs.
They walked back into the drawing room, where Jean Claude made several calls. One of which was to his chauffeur, Lorenzo.
“Ten more minutes and we’ll have you safely back on board the boat.”
Within the next few minutes, Alessandra arrived to escort Valentina to the door. Jean Claude had left the room to pick up a jacket for the journey.
Valentina, not having had the pleasure to have met the chef, asked Alessandra if she would pass on her compliments to him, for the wonderful food he had prepared and cooked.
“Sì, signora,” she replied.
With that, it was time to leave. Lorenzo already stood by the car ready to drive them back to the harbour to board the boat back to Varenna.
The car journey was quite swift. Valentina still feeling a little sick was not sure if it was the result of the rich food and alcohol consumed the night before, or the shock of learning the whereabouts of Jean Claude staying in Maggiore.
