The Woman From Paris (12 page)

At last she drove through the old market town of Fairfield. The high street was very wide and lined with cherry trees, yet to flower. She motored up the hill, admiring the color-washed rainbow of Georgian houses and little shops that she had been too nervous to notice when she came for the funeral. It was like stepping back in time to another age, and if it hadn’t been for the cars parked beneath the fruit trees, she could have imagined what it must have been like two hundred years before, when King George sat on the throne.

She slowed down when she drove past the church. Somewhere in that yard George lay buried, and for a moment she felt the urge to
park the car and go and find his grave. But she didn’t want to be late, and it was already seven o’clock. So she drove on and up the narrow lane that led to Fairfield Park, situated a mile outside the town. She shuddered as she motored past the little white cottages and through the iron gates, remembering the last time she had been there and how desperate she was to leave. She recalled how she had vowed never to return, but here she was now, once again making her way up the drive beneath the plane trees.

Harris heard the car on the gravel and walked hastily to the drawing room to inform Lady Frampton. Antoinette hurried out into the hall with David, while Joshua and Roberta remained on the sofas with Rosamunde. Tom hadn’t yet arrived, which wasn’t unusual. As Antoinette prepared herself in the hall, anxious for everything to go smoothly and for Phaedra to like her, Roberta swept across the room to sneak a peek through the curtains. She saw the car draw up and halt. She saw the girl inside turn off the engine and open the door. Then she saw Phaedra climb out, and her body stiffened with jealousy, for even in the semidarkness she could see that the young woman was a beauty. Roberta withdrew as if the curtain had scalded her.

Harris descended the steps to help Phaedra with her suitcase. David followed after, a wide smile swallowing up his face. When Phaedra saw him, her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled back gratefully. He said he’d look after her, and he’d been true to his word. She felt a warm sense of relief just seeing him there.

“You got here in good time,” he said, bending down to kiss her cheek.

“There wasn’t much traffic. It was fine.”

He could tell she was nervous. “I thought you’d prefer to stay in my cottage,” he whispered in her ear. “Then you can leave when my family gets too much.”

She laughed, pleasantly surprised. “Was that your idea?”

“No, Mother’s actually.”

“That’s very thoughtful of her. May we go now?”

He looked at her askance. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Only half.”

He put his hand on the small of her back and led her up the steps. “Don’t worry, they don’t bite. And the one who does isn’t here,” he added, referring to his grandmother.

Antoinette was at the top of the steps, ready to welcome her. “Phaedra, I’m so pleased you agreed to come.”

“Hello, Lady Frampton.”

“Please, call me Antoinette. You’re my stepdaughter, after all.” She smiled warmly, and Phaedra’s fears began to slip away. “Don’t mind the dogs, they’re very friendly.”

“They’re big, aren’t they? I suppose they must eat you out of house and home.”

“They don’t eat as much as you’d imagine. Come on in. The others are in the drawing room. Tom hasn’t arrived yet, but that’s no surprise; he’s never on time for anything.”

Phaedra followed Antoinette through the hall. It looked so much larger now that it wasn’t full of people. A big fire danced boisterously in the grate, beneath a large black canopy to catch the smoke. She inhaled the smell of burning logs and sighed with pleasure; there was something very comforting about that woody scent. She stepped over the Persian rugs, noticing everything, from the vast display of lilies on the hall table to the line of silver trophies on the mantelpiece above the fire, presumably George’s. This was
his
home,
his
family,
his
intimate life—and she had never been a part of any of it.

As she walked through to the drawing room, the big portrait of Theodora caught her attention. It hung at the bottom of the stairs where the light from the hall seemed to catch the sapphires and diamonds around her neck and on her ears and wrist, making them glitter as if they were real. Quite apart from the serene beauty of the woman, the Frampton suite blazed with a magnificence of its own. Phaedra didn’t have time to linger, but Julius had been right; no woman, however modest, could fail to be impressed by them.

She walked into the drawing room, where Rosamunde and Joshua stood to greet her. “Technically, we’ve met before,” said Rosamunde. “But I don’t count that.” She extended her hand. “I’m Rosamunde, Antoinette’s sister.”

“Yes, hello again.” Phaedra shook her hand, relieved to see that the rather severe-looking woman she had met in the library was quite friendly when she smiled.

“This is Josh,” said Antoinette, then she introduced Roberta, and there was nothing in her demeanor to suggest that she wasn’t entirely fond of her daughter-in-law.

Phaedra shook Joshua’s hand; unlike his older brother’s, it was as soft and bland as dough. His features were pleasant enough; in fact, he should have been very handsome, but there was no character in his face to give it the individuality and strength that David’s possessed. He had something of the lame duck about him, a slight stoop of the shoulders and a detachment in the eyes, as if he had willfully disengaged. She was surprised by his wife’s coolness. She remained solemn, her sharp jaw taut, looking down at Phaedra with an imperious gaze, making Phaedra feel small in every way.

Just as Roberta was about to speak, David stepped in to rescue her. “Let’s sit down,” he suggested. There was a moment of awkwardness as David moved his hand towards the small of her back to direct her to the sofa. Thinking better of it, he pulled away at the last moment. “Harris will get you a drink,” he said, putting his errant hand in his pocket. “What would you like?”

“Lime and soda?”

“Are you sure you don’t need more fortification?” He grinned down at her.

“Maybe later.”

“I would apologize for them,” he whispered once they had sat down, “but they’re your family, too.” They both laughed, and Antoinette thought how already they appeared like siblings.

Harris brought drinks, and they chatted around the fire. Roberta perched on the window seat, some distance from the rest of the family, listening but not taking part. Antoinette didn’t bother to beckon her forward. If she wants to be standoffish, she thought, that’s
her
problem. She hoped Phaedra didn’t notice the girl’s rudeness.

Phaedra noticed everything and wasn’t in the least surprised by Roberta’s hostility, although it hurt. She was grateful that everyone
else treated her kindly. Julius had said that George’s family would embrace her as a long-lost daughter, but Phaedra hadn’t been so sure. It seemed a lot to ask of a family still in mourning. But the gamble appeared to have paid off. Antoinette was ready to welcome her, and David, especially, was going to great lengths to make her feel she belonged. Joshua’s eyes brightened every time he looked at her, and Rosamunde, clearly keen to please her sister, was very gracious indeed. To Phaedra, however, blood was of little importance—their shared love for George bonded them in a way that DNA never could.

As Antoinette talked about her dogs, Phaedra noticed the pain behind her eyes. The woman smiled and laughed occasionally at David’s jokes, but Phaedra guessed that inside, her heart was a brick. She stood alone at the beginning of an uncharted and solitary road. She had her sons to comfort her and her sister to give her strength, and yet her widowhood rendered her isolated and forlorn. Phaedra wanted to reach out to her, but she knew that no amount of carefully chosen words could bring George back. Anything less than that fell desperately short.

Tom still hadn’t turned up by the time they moved into the dining room for dinner. Antoinette looked anxiously at her watch. “Don’t worry about him, Mum. He’s probably forgotten,” said David, pulling the chair out for Phaedra.

“I’m not worrying,” she replied, smiling unconvincingly.

“I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten,” Rosamunde reassured her.

“Has Tom ever been on time for anything?” asked Joshua, sitting down.

“Oh, I think that’s a little unfair,” Antoinette replied, her hackles rising as she prepared to defend him.

“He’ll be down,” Roberta added. “He certainly won’t miss this weekend. There’s nothing he enjoys more than a good drama.” Phaedra wanted to respond to the suggestion that
she
was the drama, but refrained. There was no point prodding the tail of the tigress, she’d only get bitten.

“Any excuse to drive Dad’s car,” David added.

Joshua chuckled. “Yes, he’s like Toad of Toad Hall at the wheel of the Aston Martin.”

Phaedra laughed, and Joshua’s eyes flickered a moment with pleasure. “I’m not sure he’d be too pleased with that description,” she said. “No one would like to be compared with Toad!”

“He’d be the first to see the parallel; there’s a lot of Toad in Tom,” Joshua continued, delighted that Phaedra found him amusing.

Roberta sat directly opposite Phaedra and watched as David and her husband placed themselves on either side of her. “So, you’re a Kenneth Grahame fan,” she said.

“Of course.
The Wind in the Willows
is one of my all-time favorites.”

“Where were you educated?”

“In Vancouver,” Phaedra replied with a shrug. “I hated school.”

“But you went to university?”

“No, I worked from the age of sixteen. I left home as soon as I could.”

Roberta crinkled her nose. “Really, why would you do that?”

“Long story,” Phaedra replied dismissively. She’d never share it with Roberta.

“Such a shame not to finish your education. I bet you regret it now.” Roberta pulled a saccharine smile.

“Not at all. Life has been a great educator.”

“You know, my favorite character was always Ratty,” said Joshua.

“Oh, me, too,” enthused Phaedra, happy to turn away from Roberta. “Steady old Ratty.”

“I think David’s a little like Ratty,” said Joshua.

“I’d rather be Badger. He’s more charismatic,” David interjected drily.

“David’s much more like Badger than Ratty!” Phaedra exclaimed.

Roberta stiffened and tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. “Tell us about you and George, Phaedra. We’re all dying to know.”

There followed an uncomfortable silence. Joshua glared at his wife, but Roberta smiled the smile of a wily crocodile. Antoinette struggled to find something to say. It was inevitable that the subject would swing around to George at some stage of the evening, but she
hadn’t expected it to turn so early on. Roberta was unforgivably rude. But Phaedra seemed not to mind. Harris filled her glass with white wine, and she took a slow sip. David would have liked to change the subject to save Phaedra any embarrassment, but he was as curious as everyone else.

“What exactly are you wanting to know, Roberta?” she asked.

“Everything, from the very beginning. Let’s start with your mother.”

Phaedra frowned. “My mother’s memories are her own. She never confided in me.”

“Roberta, this isn’t the Spanish Inquisition,” said Rosamunde, repeating what she had heard her sister say to Margaret.

“Don’t pretend you’re not interested, Rosamunde. George’s illegitimate daughter suddenly appears at his funeral and inherits a fortune, not to mention the Frampton Sapphires.” At the mention of the jewels Roberta’s voice thinned with emotion. “I think it’s our right, as his family, to know how it all came about.”

“Phaedra must tell us only what she wants to tell us,” said Antoinette diplomatically.

“You don’t have any objection, do you?” Roberta asked Phaedra.

“She’s not in the dock, Roberta,” said Joshua.

Roberta rounded on her husband. “Well, I’m obviously the only one here who is honest enough to admit that I find the whole situation deeply shocking.”

“Roberta!” David exclaimed, his face hardening with fury.

Phaedra forced a smile and raised her hand. “Please, let’s not start a war. I’m very happy to answer for myself. Of course you’re shocked, Roberta.
I
would be in the same situation. The man you thought you knew had a big secret, one he didn’t share with anyone. But aren’t we all multifaceted? Don’t we all harbor secrets in one way or another? Isn’t that natural? He kept me secret to avoid hurting all of you, and, as you can see from Roberta’s reaction, he was right to do so. Had he not died, you’d all be none the wiser.”

“But apparently he was going to tell us . . .” said Antoinette keenly.

“That’s what he told me, too. But maybe he never would have.”
Phaedra shrugged. “I mean, he talked about it, and he certainly made his intentions very clear to Julius. But it’s one thing
saying
you’re going to do something and quite another actually
doing
it.”

“And we all know how impulsive George was,” Roberta interjected. “He developed short crushes on things, didn’t he? Remember those cigars from Havana? How long did those last? A year at the most. Then he decided to import llamas from Peru. His crushes extended to people, too.”

“But he loved his family constantly,” Antoinette cut in.

“That’s true,” Roberta agreed. She examined Phaedra’s face, trying to find traces of George in her features. “You don’t look anything like him.”

Phaedra felt the chill of her scrutiny. “True, I look like my mother.”

David leapt to her defense. “
I
don’t look anything like Dad, either.”

“But you share many characteristics,” Roberta added. “What characteristics do
you
share with George, Phaedra?”

At that question, Phaedra’s face lit up. “We had so much in common. We loved all the same things: the mountains, climbing in wild places, traveling, sport.”

“You don’t ski, do you?” David asked excitedly.

“Absolutely. I grew up in Vancouver.”

“Did you ski with Dad?”

“Yes, he was a beautiful skier.”