Unbitten

Unbitten Read Free Page A

Book: Unbitten Read Free
Author: Valerie du Sange
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duffel and carry-on bag and
     throwing them in the trunk. “The Château is
     very close by, we’ll be there in a few
     minutes.”
    Angélique was capable, and hardheaded, and no dummy.
     She took care of quite a lot of the Château business,
     all of the day-to-day running of the place, in fact. She
     was a woman you wanted on your side.
    Jo realized with surprise that she had shifted easily into
     speaking and understanding French–as though the
     incident with the creepy man had momentarily distracted her
     from any anxiety about whether all that French she had
     taken in school would mean anything once she was really and
     truly in France and talking to an actual French person.
    “That was not much of a welcoming,” said
     Angélique as they sped out of the village and down a
     long straight road lined with poplars. “Mourency is a
     lovely village. I grew up here, and really, we do not have
     problems of violence, not usually. But of course, no place
     is without its scoundrels, yes?” She glanced in the
     rearview mirror as she speeded up even more.
    Jo smiled to herself at “scoundrels”. Such a
     romantic word choice, she thought.
    “Good police? Or just…nobody committing
     crimes?” she asked.
    “I’d say the latter,” said
     Angélique. She paused before continuing. “It
     is not fortunate,” she said, “but in Mourency,
     the head of police–he is not a good man. Lazy.
     Corrupt. Dealing with him is usually a waste of time,
comprenez
?”
    Angélique began talking about the stable and the
     horses and upcoming shows, in a fast stream of quite good
     English, waving her hands around but still managing to keep
     the Citroën on the narrow road.
    Jo mumbled something in response and looked out of the
     window. She began to look forward to meeting David de la
     Motte, feeling excited to see the stables and meet the
     horse she was supposed to ride, and drinking in the scenery
     of France where she had never been before. She looked at
     what she could see of the fields of sunflowers whizzing by
     in the dark, and small cottages, cozy with lights on, none
     of it looking even in the smallest detail like Trenton,
     where she had grown up.
    “…you’ll be staying in the left tower. I
     am in a tower bedroom on the other side of the
     Château,” Angélique was saying.
     “You do not mind if I shift into English? I need the
     practice,” she said, with a rueful look.
    “Your English is really good, Angélique. And
     the tower room sounds amazing,” said Jo. She
     struggled to find more to say. “How is David to work
     for?”
    Angélique smiled. “David…” she
     said.
    Jo waited, but Angélique never finished her
     sentence. She stopped the car and pointed a clicker at an
     immense iron gate with gold-tipped spikes, and then as it
     slowly swung open, guided the Citroën through, past
     eighteen foot high stone posts covered with carvings, a
     coat of arms, and lots of decorative flourishes.
    Down a long drive they went, ancient plane trees towering
     on either side like a row of guards, watching them pass.
    Around a bend, up a short hill, and then, across a field,
     Jo saw the lit-up Château Gagnon for the first time.
     She couldn’t help gasping even though she had seen
     photographs online.
    Angélique laughed. “Yes, it has that
     effect,” she said. “I remember the first time I
     came here, as a little girl,” she said.
     “I’m French, I had seen plenty of
     châteaux before. But this one, she is a little bit of
     different,” she said.
    Jo loved the way Angélique’s English was
     perfect and then all of a sudden it would hit a bump.
    The central part of the Château looked very
     old–and in fact it was, certainly by an
     American’s frame of reference, having been built in
     the early 1400s. Then it expanded on either side, with
     additions of various architectural styles, so that the
     Château was like a textbook example of French
     Architecture Through the Ages,

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