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” In disbelief, she left the carriage and made her way to the servants entrance while Charles remained behind to confer with the coachmen. Rose rang the bell and waited. Her thoughts were so jumbled by her meeting with Charles that when Kathleen opened the door Rose merely blinked at her in a daze. “Well, don’t stand there like a dozy cow,” Kathleen hugged her and ushered Rose inside a vast kitchen. Rose hardly had another second to dwell on the bewildering meeting with Charles Bordune III as she took in the scene before her. Two scullery maids and a chef busied themselves preparing a feast. Copper pots hung from the ceiling. The scent of something scrumptious filled the air. Potatoes, beets, and turnips were piled high on a counter. The chef carefully removed a steaming blueberry pie from an oven. A scullery maid brushed melted butter, thyme, and sage on the crackling bronzed skin of a roasting turkey. The chef and maids paused to study the poor bedraggled creature standing beside. The countryside of France was quite beautiful, the roads were lined with ancient hedgerows – walls of green that were older than any city in America – that streaked by as green blurs as Francois drove us at breakneck speed down the country highway. Soon a hill rose up ahead, a pile of rocks looming over the French countryside; Rennes-le-Château perched atop it, like a crown on a rocky giant's head.The road up the hill to the town was curvy, winding back and forth like a drunken serpent. Rennes-le-Château was ancient, made of stone buildings that seemed to groan with the centuries. The streets were far too narrow for more than one car to drive down at a time, even one as small as the cop's vehicle. Francois didn't care, he barreled down them and forced any oncoming motorist to back out of his way. I was feeling definitely carsick after the bouncy ride across the cobblestone streets, and thrilled when we reached the Church of Mary Magdalene and the ride was over. The Motherhouse loomed.
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