The Sweetness of Liberty James (50 page)

As they were going to stay the night, Liberty chose to change into her evening wear on arrival. It would be more comfortable that way on the drive down. She picked a dark green corseted Victoria Beckham dress with little sleeves and an on-the-knee for decency hemline, but with a cleavage-enhancing neckline for Edmund, who just might notice she was a woman and not merely a friend of his sister. Alligator-skin knee-high boots with four-inch heels and pearls for her wrists and ears would keep the outfit smart but not too obvious.
Pearls always make you feel ladylike
, she thought. ‘Even though my heart will explode if I don't get to kiss his handsome face soon,' she said with a giggle to nobody in particular as Teal scampered downstairs to puggle round and round by the front door, eager to visit her friends.

Liberty dressed for the journey in slim black trousers, a black polo neck and ballet pumps, and took her Birkin for her overnight things. She had a small bright purple leather Prada clutch for the evening that could hold perfume and lipstick.

Her cheeks glowed from the hairdryer and her eyes had been enlarged with emerald green and violet eyeliner and lashings
of black mascara, so she wouldn't have to spend hours in the bathroom once there – something Percy had always criticised her for.

Edmund had said he would pick her up at seven. The journey would only take twenty-five minutes, and as supper was at eight thirty they would have time to settle in and have at least one drink before dinner.

Edmund was early in his eagerness, and driving past the green he caught sight of Liberty racing back home, having dropped off Teal.

‘Am I late?' she asked as he got out of the car, resplendent in his dinner shirt, his jacket hanging in the back.

‘No, am I overdressed?'

‘Oh, no! I thought I would change there, save getting myself crumpled. Is that OK?'

‘Good idea. Get your things, then we can be off.'

They drove in companionable silence, listening to Handel on Radio Three. ‘Bloody car – marvellous off road, and super comfy, but in true Range Rover spirit something always seems to go wrong. My radio won't tune into anything else. I think it's trying to improve my interest in classical music, which I have to say, is working, although on long journeys it can become soporific unless they are playing a requiem or an opera.'

As they drew closer the car's navigation system told Edmund they had reached their destination. Liberty gave him instructions to arrive safely at the hotel by driving to the bottom of the hill and then taking a sharp left, at which point they could see a large sign saying ‘The Dark Horse. Restaurant with Rooms. One Mile. Unmade Track.'

‘Blimey, how do people negotiate this after a few too many?' wondered Edmund.

‘It's a sign of the restaurant's popularity that people put up with it,' said Liberty as he crawled up the bumpy, potholed track, fringed on either side by thick forest. ‘I think it's quirky. Townies see it as an adventure and country people feel they
should be able to cope because others do. But it's worth it when you get there.'

Even in the dark, Edmund could appreciate the atmosphere of the place. With the last corner negotiated and the forest cleared, as they drove over a stone humpbacked bridge crossing the stream that lazily meandered through the hotel grounds, they could see the grand old building that housed Alain's pride and joy. It nestled into the hill as though it had grown from the ground up rather than having been built on to it. it was lit by soft floodlights on the outside, and from within the promise of fires and snug rooms peeked out of the windows. It looked tranquil, elegant and very romantic . . .

‘Don't be alarmed by the brown bath water – it comes straight from the river,' explained Liberty, feeling excited to be back. ‘Shame it's still too cold to have a drink outside,' she reflected. ‘It's stunning on a summer's evening with the lavender out and the roses over the walls.'

They parked at the rear and carried their own bags into the hotel. A cosy hall with squashy sofas and roaring fire served as a reception of sorts and Gary, Alain's manager, raced over, full of apologies and horrified they had to carry their own things.

‘Don't be silly,' said Liberty as she kissed him and introduced Edmund.

‘A drink first?' he suggested.

‘I'd like to change my clothes first,' said Liberty, and Edmund agreed. ‘Let's put our things in the rooms and then we can relax.'

‘Rooms? Rooms?' said Gary with a straight face, looking down at his computer screen, but Liberty noticed the tiny smile threatening to break out.

‘Yes, Daddy phoned, I think.'

‘No problem,' said Gary, back to his usual professional best and carefully refraining from continuing his little joke. ‘I've given you the Garden Rooms, two charming rooms in the west wing. I am sure you will be very comfortable.'

Seeing other guests arriving, Liberty suggested that as she
knew where the rooms were she would take the keys and they could find their way. ‘And thank you for fitting us in,' she said, smiling at Gary, pleasure fizzing through her at this unexpected jaunt. She hadn't spent a night here since she was a child.

‘Thank you, my dear, and do let me know if I can do anything at all to make your stay more pleasant.'

Opening the door to Edmund's suite, Liberty reflected there would be very little anyone could do to improve their surroundings. The walls of both suites were, as she knew, decorated with birds and plants on silks and linens, and they had massive bathrooms whose tubs sat by the windows so the view could be fully appreciated. A fire twinkled behind a guard in Edmund's sitting room, and a cooler with a bottle of Ruinart Blanc de Blancs sat beside a bowl of fruits. Next to the espresso machine in the corner, a little porcelain bowl held freshly baked buttery shortbread and ginger biscuits.

The half-tester bed was already turned down for the night. No obvious TV, but Liberty showed Edmund how to press the button by the bed, whereupon the mirror on the opposite wall above the fire turned into a flat screen.

‘Oh good, I can check the rugby. You go and get changed. Do you want a drink downstairs, or to have the champagne here?'

‘Let's have a glass before we go down. We can always take it with us.'

Amazed to find more of the same champagne in her own room, but with an added bowl of the chocolate truffles her father knew she loved, Liberty quickly changed into her dinner dress and retouched her make-up.

Well, well, if we finish both bottles before supper I won't know what I'm doing
, she thought. For some reason she wanted to keep her wits about her.

She ate a couple of the truffles, infused with lemon grass, to line her stomach, then knocked on Edmund's door.

As she walked in, he popped the cork and poured the champagne into coupes.

‘Baccarat crystal. I'm amazed your father doesn't lose half of his property to guests.'

‘Tempting, and he does. But he likes the best! Er, Edmund . . .'

He looked down and realised the glass was overflowing. Liberty raced into the bathroom for towels. Her back view was almost as good as her front, and he had been mightily distracted. She had been so insistent on the two rooms that again he reminded himself there was nothing between them, but gosh, she was a vision. Her dark, shining hair smelled of fresh air and flowers and her creamy skin shone like moonlight as she bent to mop up the spillage.
God, I'm turning into a twit
, thought Edmund.

‘Cheers!' they said simultaneously, as they raised their glasses. ‘Thank you,' said Liberty. ‘Today I'm having the best time possible. This was a lovely idea, although I know my father doesn't do freebies, so do expect a hefty bill!'

‘My treat, to say thank you for listening to me banging on about the estate, and good luck with LIBERTEAS. I don't suppose either of us will get much time off in the next few months, so let's enjoy ourselves!'

43

Alain may not have been into freebies, but by the time they made their way down to one of the comfortable drawing rooms, with lots of upright but relaxing chairs and sofas, another huge fire and tables positioned so there was always somewhere for a drink to be placed, Edmund thought whatever it cost would be worth the money. Piles of
Country Life
and
Homes & Gardens
adorned a circular table and pretty jugs of flowers were dotted around. The bookcases were full of a good mix, and there were even photographs in silver frames of Liberty and various family members, including Deirdre and most of the long-term employees; it gave the room an intimate feel, quite removed from the impersonal hotels that Edmund was used to.

Deirdre had influenced the decoration in the early days, and despite the change of carpets, her clever use of bits of furniture with different heights also took away the feel of uniformity. Interesting pictures along the walls, together with gilded mirrors, completed the look of elegant comfort, and the building itself made guests feel as though they were in a smart country house rather than a hotel.

The waiting staff had been taught to move around slowly and fluidly, so their presence was barely felt, but they were attentive enough to notice whose glass needed topping up, and to dispense amuse-bouches to those perusing the menus. Alain had a bizarre pathological hatred of computer script. He kept his fountain pen in his pocket at all times and employed an old lady in the nearby village exclusively to write out the menus every day.

Next door was a bar and an honesty book for guests. It was
a clubby room full of hunting prints and cushions embroidered with an assortment of dogs. Antique golf clubs hung on the walls alongside trophy stag antlers and there were furs on the floor. Checks and tweeds covered the furnishings and the bar itself was a sort of butler's pantry, hand-carved from oak by a craftsman. Liberty showed Edmund round, as most of the other diners had already gone through to one of the two dining rooms. Alain had wanted to keep the feeling of dining in a home, so wouldn't have appreciated one large room full of muttering people. His philosophy was that somehow, in a cosier environment, people were happy to chat away in a more normal manner, Liberty explained to Edmund.

He was enjoying watching her rear view as she showed him proudly round. ‘Nothing worse than sitting in a hotel dining room where no one is speaking. It puts one off the food no matter how good it is,' he agreed.

Liberty hadn't had time to feel hungry until now, but after all the fresh air and no food apart from the chocolates since breakfast, she found herself agreeing when Edmund said they should try the tasting menu. ‘That way we don't have to regret not choosing what the other has,' he said. ‘And I'm terribly old-fashioned and cannot bear it when someone takes food from my plate to try it.'

Liberty smiled as she settled into the chair that Edmund indicated by the fire. ‘You sound as though you speak from experience?'

As Edmund made himself comfortable on the sofa at the other side of the inglenook he said uncomfortably, ‘I had a dear friend, she was – no, is – lovely, but when things were perhaps going to move a step forward, as it were, I brought her home to meet Pa.' He was looking more and more embarrassed.

‘Go on,' encouraged Liberty, sipping her champagne and eager to know what dreaded deed the poor girl had committed.

‘We all sat to have supper, and Deborah was getting on well, chatting away and keeping everyone amused. She is very funny,
and Pa's friends had all been wowed by her shooting abilities earlier.'

Liberty found herself disliking this girl already and tried hard not to scowl. ‘And?' she enquired.

‘Well, halfway through one of her stories, she noticed I hadn't eaten my parsnips.' He stopped short as Liberty snorted champagne through her nose, but she waved at him to continue this dramatic tale. ‘She picked them up, one by one, with her fingers, and ate them. And she wasn't even sitting next to me! She had to reach across some old crony of Pa's to do it. I had to call an end to the whole thing. When she asked me why, and I told her, she called me a pompous ass and said I was stuck in the previous century.'

Liberty tried hard not to giggle. ‘Ahh, the fairy tale; stymied by root vegetables. See, I told you that food and love went together!' And with that she could hold herself together no more, and burst out laughing. ‘Oh, poor Edmund,' she gasped as she saw the hawkish glower on his face, ‘you really didn't love her – otherwise I'm sure the parsnip misdemeanour would have meant very little. I'm sorry to laugh, but you must see the funny side!' Thankfully, at that moment a diversion was created by the arrival of an amuse-bouche – a tiny square of slow-cooked pork belly garnished with its own crispy skin, and a slice of candied fennel.

‘I'm sorry!' said Liberty, wide-eyed, realising she had polished hers off before Edmund had even started his. ‘I'm starving!'

‘It's lovely to see a lady with an appetite,' he confessed. ‘Most of my girlfriends had no interest in food, only in the people who went to restaurants.'

‘Apart from parsnips!' Liberty couldn't resist teasing him.

They were lowering the liquid in their bottle of champagne, and chatting away happily, when Amelie, the sommelier, came over to show them the wine list. Liberty asked after her children politely and exchanged pleasantries while Edmund considered.

‘Why don't you recommend a wine for us,' asked Edmund,
‘as we are having the tasting menu.' At this point Amelie's face broke into a rare smile and she took the wine menu from his hand. ‘Very good, sir,' she said and waddled off happily.

‘Well done, you are clever,' said Liberty. ‘I've never got on with her, as Daddy can't stand her,' she whispered, ‘but she knows her stuff, and her husband is from the village. It's terribly difficult to get a top class sommelier to work in the sticks. You will have made her night.'