The President’s Daughter

‘No, Jake, that would be too cruel. She was conceived that one night in Saigon, and born in Paris in 1970. Her name is Marie and she is halfway through her first year at Oxford.’

Jake couldn’t take his eyes off the girl. ‘Did the General know?’

‘He assumed she was his, or so I thought, until the end, when the doctors told him just how bad his heart was.’

‘And?’

‘It seems that while he was in the hospital in Vietnam after being found up-country, someone sent him a letter. It told him that his wife had been seen with an American officer, who had not left her suite until four o’clock in the morning.’

‘But who –?’

‘A member of staff, we think. The maliciousness of it! Sometimes I despair of human beings. But he had known, all this time, my dear Jean. Before he died, he signed a declaration under the provisions of the Code Napoléon, stating that he was Marie’s titular father. It was to preserve her position and title legally.’

‘And she doesn’t know?’

‘No, and I don’t want her to, and neither do you, Jake. You’re a good man, an honourable man, but a politician. The great American public doesn’t take kindly to politicians who have illegitimate daughters.’

‘But it wasn’t like that. Dammit, everyone thought your husband was dead.’

‘Jake, listen to me. You could be president one day, everybody says that, but not with this sort of scandal hanging over you. And what about Marie? Isn’t it better if she just lives with her memory of her father, the General? No, if Marie isn’t told, that leaves only two people in the world who know – you and me. Are we agreed?’

Jake gazed at the lovely girl by the window, and then back at her mother. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, you’re right.’

She took his hand. ‘I know. Now…would you care to meet her?’

‘My God, yes!’

She led the way to the French windows. ‘She has your eyes, Jake, and your smile. You’ll see.’

Marie de Brissac turned from speaking to a handsome young officer. ‘Mama,’ she smiled. ‘I’ve said it before, but you look incredible in that dress.’

Jacqueline kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Thank you, chérie.’

Marie said, ‘This is Lieutenant Maurice Guyon of the French Foreign Legion, just back from the campaign in Chad.’

Guyon, very military, very correct, clicked his heels and kissed Jacqueline’s hand. ‘A pleasure, Countess.’

‘And now allow me to introduce Senator Jacob Cazalet from Washington. We’re good friends.’

Guyon responded with enthusiasm. ‘A pleasure, Senator! I read the article about you last year in Paris Soir. Your exploits in Vietnam were admirable, sir. A remarkable career.’

‘Well, thank you, Lieutenant,’ Jake Cazalet said. ‘That means a lot, coming from someone like you.’ He turned and took his daughter’s hand. ‘May I say that, like your mother, you look wonderful.’

‘Senator.’ She had been smiling, but now it faded and there was only puzzlement there. ‘Are you sure we haven’t met before?’

‘Absolutely.’ Jake smiled. ‘How could I have possibly forgotten?’ He kissed her hand. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to dance with your mother.’

As they circled the floor, he said to Jacqueline, ‘Everything you said – everything – is true. She’s wonderful.’

‘With such a father, she would be.’

He looked down at her with enormous tenderness. ‘You know, I think I never stopped loving you, Jacqueline,’ he said. ‘If only.…’

Hush,’ she said, putting her fingers to his lips. ‘I know, Jake, I know. But we can be happy with what we have.’ She smiled. ‘Now, let’s put some life into those feet, Senator!’

He never saw her again. The years rolled on, his wife finally died from the leukaemia that had plagued her for years, and it was a chance meeting with the French Ambassador at a function in Washington three years after the Gulf War that brought him up to date. He and Teddy were standing with him on the lawn at the White House.

The Ambassador said, ‘Congratulations would seem in order. I understand the presidential nomination is yours for the asking.’

‘A little premature,’ Jake said. ‘There’s still Senator Freeman, if he decides to run.’

‘Don’t listen to him, Mr Ambassador, he can’t fail,’ Teddy said.

‘And I must believe you.’ The Ambassador turned to Cazalet. ‘After all, as everyone knows, Teddy is your éminence grise.’

‘I suppose so.’ Jake smiled. Then, he didn’t know why – was it the music? – he said, ‘Tell me, Ambassador, there’s a friend of mine I haven’t seen in many years, the Comtesse de Brissac – do you know her?’

An odd expression came over the Ambassador’s face, then he said, ‘Mon Dieu, I was forgetting. You saved her life in Vietnam.’

‘Hell, I’d forgotten that one,’ Teddy said. ‘That’s how you got your DSC.’

‘You are not in touch?’ the Ambassador said.

‘Not really.’

‘The daughter was engaged to a Captain Guyon, a fine boy. I knew the family. Unfortunately, he was killed in the Gulf.’

‘I am very sorry to hear that. And the Countess?’

‘Cancer, my friend, at death’s door, as I understand it. A great pity.’

Cazalet said to Teddy, ‘I’ve got to get out of here, and fast. Two things.’ He was walking rapidly along a White House corridor. ‘Get in touch with our embassy in Paris and check on the present condition of the Comtesse de Brissac, then phone the airport and tell them to get the Gulfstream ready for a flight to Paris.’

His mother’s death a couple of years before had left him very wealthy, although with his interest in politics, he was content to put it all in a blind trust and leave the finances to others. However, it did give him the privileges of rank and the Gulfstream private jet was one of them.

Teddy was already speaking over his mobile phone, and as they reached the limousine, he said, ‘They’ll call me.’ They got in the rear and he closed the glass partition between them and the driver. ‘Jake, is there trouble? Anything I should know about?’

Cazalet did an unusual thing for him during the day. He reached for the bar and selected a crystal glass. ‘Pour me a Scotch, Teddy.’

‘Jake, are you OK?’ Teddy said anxiously.

‘Sure I am. The only woman I ever truly loved is dying of cancer and my daughter is all alone, so give me a Scotch.’

Teddy Grant’s eyes widened and he poured. ‘Daughter, Jake?’

Cazalet took the Scotch down in one swallow.

‘That was good,’ he said, and then he told him everything.