The Sweetness of Liberty James (51 page)

‘It must get terribly boring doing all that study and then to come to an English hotel and always be asked whether a wine she has bought from a particular vineyard is any good. When she gives her advice she is then asked for something cheaper and “maybe by the glass as we are driving”.'

‘Gosh, I hadn't thought of it like that, I'm sure that's exactly how she feels. Oh, you are clever,' she said for the third time in as many minutes, making Edmund feel top of the class again. ‘Isn't this fun? It's so lovely to have a treat when least expected, and especially after the last few days. I feel so relaxed, thank you for suggesting it.' At that moment Gary arrived to take them to their table.

‘I feel like a little girl allowed into my father's office, without him being there to tell me not to touch,' said Liberty, her eyes shining.

Edmund just loved her enthusiasm.
She must have eaten here hundreds of times and be quite used to this type of food
, he thought. But she was still going into raptures about their first little case of Stilton foam surrounding a sage and chicken ravioli.

Next came rabbit, a tiny pretend chop, made by sticking a chined rib bone into a piece of tender, moist loin, a miniature quenelle of rillettes and a sautéed kidney.

Then fish. A deconstructed fish stew. One mussel, a lobster claw and a red mullet fillet, with a tiny amount of very strong rich lobster bisque, gently scented with tarragon.

A shallot Tatin, so small that only one perfectly caramelised shallot could fit atop, next to a seared slice of venison and
mushroom duxelles with a blackberry port jus, ended the savoury selection.

They had enjoyed a glass of wine with each dish, and now as they rested they realised that although they had eaten a wide variety of dishes, each was so perfectly sized they were happily looking forward to dessert.

Liberty was feeling so happy and relaxed, and a little tipsy. She shocked herself by asking, ‘Do you find you miss your mother as much as Savannah says? And are you enjoying running the estate?' without thinking first. They were both taken aback by her bluntness and she said, ‘I'm so sorry, that was nosy. Don't answer if you don't want to, I'll be taking food off your plate next and you will have to run for the hills!'

‘Gosh, I certainly won't be running anywhere,' said Edmund, and Liberty found herself hoping it was because he liked her, not because he had eaten so much. He took a deep breath and said, ‘Two huge questions.' Taking a sip of wine, he thought for a few moments. ‘Ma died when I was young. Not too young, so I remember her well, but I had Gray and Savvie to think about. I'm sure you know that Pa went into quite a decline; he could barely function for a year after her death. I think, sadly, I felt angry with her at the beginning for doing that to him. And for leaving me – us – when we were so young. Of course, I didn't realise I was angry at the time, you don't as a child, but I had to grow up pretty fast. Without Mrs Goodman the family would have simply fallen apart. I think I probably became rather too serious; I felt I had to be the man of the house, but my age didn't allow me to achieve that. I lost my childhood and gained an unerring ability to push away those close to me.'

Liberty could feel herself well up; she had spent her youth laughing at the too serious Edmund, but now her heart went out to the little boy who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Edmund, whose tongue had been loosened by the wine and the effect Liberty was having on him, carried on. ‘Gray's always on at me to chill, and Deborah – parsnip girl,
my last paramour – used to call me Scowled. I just threw myself into work, first at school, then uni and setting up my company, which I am so proud of, and now I bloody have to give it all up.'

Liberty looked up at his blazing eyes. It all made sense. He had spent his entire life working hard to achieve something on his own, away from Denhelm and the sad memories, and now he had been called back to live there and take care of it. No wonder he wasn't looking forward to the challenge. He saw the estate as his past, not his future. Edmund, meanwhile, had recovered from his near outburst and went back to reflecting on his mother.

‘Pa very rarely spoke of her, so Gray and I would ask Mrs G to tell us stories of what she was like and show us photographs. Pa was furious one day when he caught Savvie looking through her clothes. I'm so pleased he has found Paloma, and maybe some sort of closure. Yes, I've missed having a mother, but many others are in the same boat, and we have a very close family, so in many ways I'm lucky. The estate? We will have to wait and see. I suppose I've always known it would come to me, eventually, and I thought it would somehow fit like an old coat found at the back of the rack after the summer, but I feel very lost at the moment.'

Liberty placed her hand over his to stop him fidgeting with a butter knife. ‘I'm sorry to make you think of the past; I was out of turn. I just wanted to know the real you.'

Edmund had stopped fidgeting. His hand was charged with the strange energy he felt when he was around Liberty. ‘I've never spoken of such things, and I feel a bore to have done so when we are enjoying such a fine evening. I apologise.'

Their eyes met, and a brief understanding flew between them before they were interrupted by the arrival of a large pistachio soufflé with a spoonful of Liberty's favourite coffee ice cream melting delectably into a hole in the centre. Gary, who had brought over the soufflé, had also been the cupid who instructed the kitchen to make one large pudding rather than individual
ones, and he asked sweetly if they would like him to serve or just to leave two spoons. Knowing he was joking but enjoying their moment of closeness, both said, ‘Just spoons, please,' and laughed at the delight on Gary's face. The moment of relief had allowed the electricity in the air to settle, and they once again found themselves chattering about more benign subjects.

‘Don't you like parsnips, then?' asked Liberty as they placed their spoons in the empty dish, replete but happy.
Edmund grinned – actually grinned!
thought Liberty.
And because he is happy, not because he is fixing drains!

And then he said, ‘I think they may become my favourite vegetable! I have a lot to thank them for.'

The air seemed to have slowly crystallised, their strong emotions freed by alcohol, good company and a general sense of togetherness. Liberty was barely able to utter a word. Her mind was turning in an everlasting circle.
I want this man, but if I say so, and he rejects me, I have lost a great friend
.
If I don't, and never get the chance again, I'm an idiot
. She certainly didn't need any more food, but suddenly having no idea what to do with her hands made her pop one of the petit fours that had been left with their coffee into her mouth. Why wasn't Edmund saying anything? Did he think her revoltingly greedy? Oh God, she was the new parsnip girl!

Edmund was lost in a world of contentment. As he sat and watched Liberty put another small sweetmeat in her mouth, he mused over people who insisted that when attracted to each other they couldn't eat a thing. If that was the case, he and Liberty loathed each other. But he knew the opposite was true for him. He had never experienced such physical pleasure as when seeing Liberty gently sniff at, nibble, then roll a mouthful round her tongue. She made it the most sensual action.

He had always found other people's eating habits fairly abhorrent, but the enjoyment that Liberty derived from every morsel filled his senses with happiness and his body with longing. In the same way, he loved to watch her working in her
kitchen – how she instinctively reached for herbs, flavourings and spices. She seemed to be performing her own ballet, each movement pre-decided upon. She moved as effortlessly as a dancer, every sinew in her body gracefully deployed, as though twisting and stretching from toe to fingertip. She appeared to live and work with every part of herself. This was one of the many things he had come to love about her, and now here she was, obviously full to bursting and trying not to say something. Should he ask her to his suite for a nightcap? If she said no, it would be horribly awkward.

British formality lay between them like a giant oak tree felled in a storm. Liberty was thinking,
God, if I were French, I would have just launched myself on him, and devil may care what happened
.

And Edmund was deliberating,
Goodness me, if I were an Italian, I'd never have brought her down to dinner in the first place
.

This painful, yet delightful, scenario was broken by Gary.

‘Miss James, your telephone appears to be ringing.' He handed her the purple clutch bag, which had been placed behind her on the chair.

‘Goodness me, I hadn't realised I had put it in there!' said Liberty, blushing furiously. By the time she had scrabbled around for her phone it had stopped ringing, but then Edmund's buzzed in his pocket.

‘I don't care if my father does own the place, we will get turned out,' muttered Liberty, knowing that private phones were actively discouraged in the hotel's public rooms.

Edmund looked down at his screen. ‘It's Gray,' he said. ‘I had better take it. It must be tomorrow already where he is. Hold on a minute.'

Liberty looked at her call register, and the last missed call had been from Grahame. ‘Oh, help, it must be an emergency,' was her first reaction. ‘But why would he call me first?'

Edmund had left the dining room, and she presumed he
had walked outside to phone Gray. Meanwhile, the few other remaining guests were doing what the British do best: complaining under their breath so she could just hear without catching the details. She looked at them directly and said kindly, ‘Sorry, but we were waiting for important news.' After directing a dazzling smile at the male members of the group, who had already noted her long legs and beautiful figure, the grumbling stopped.

Edmund walked briskly towards her. ‘That was interesting. I need a brandy.' He was flushed and breathing excitedly.

‘What? What? Tell me,' said Liberty.

‘Drink first. Two brandies, please,' he ordered, as Gary appeared. Not waiting to ask what type, he returned with a tray holding two glasses of Alain's finest. Edmund took a sip, and then stopped to appreciate the smooth, amber liquid.

‘Well. It appears Gray wasn't quite straight – excuse the pun – with us about how he knew this Major Race chap. He is an old flame!'

Liberty looked quizzical. ‘What do you mean?'

‘He and Gray had a sort of relationship years ago at uni. Anyway, he went off, joined the army, rose up the ranks, and we know Gray's story. The major left the army, left his wife and announced to anyone who would listen that he was gay and proud of it blah, blah, the usual stuff. Children disowned him. He took himself off around the globe to do good for others.

‘He contacted Gray after all the press coverage over here covering Gray and J-T. He must have understood what my poor brother was going through. Gray says he is running things over there brilliantly, has got the government trembling in its welly boots and the aid sent to where it was needed most. Anyway, going off the point.

‘Gray arrived. Before he could be shipped off into the disaster zone, he and the major apparently started where they had left off so many years ago. Says it's as though they last saw each other yesterday and found love at second sight. The major is
going to join him at one of the refugee camps, and is going to get the BBC to cover the flooding and Gray's work to help get aid through. Then, when Gray's work is complete, he is going to stay with the major for the foreseeable future.' Edmund now downed the rest of his brandy, forgetting about appreciation, just needing obliteration.

‘Golly, Pa's going to love this. Since Ma died, Pa has been doing everything he can to keep his picture-book model family; all normal, happy and easy-going, hoping we could cope without a maternal figure. And what has he ended up with? One difficult, thrice-married, scandal-ridden daughter living in Abu Dhabi, possibly never to be seen again; one useless, emotionally retarded son and heir, who is managing to ruin the estate before he has even taken over and never married, so no grandson to pass the sinking ship on to; and one gay son who has decided to settle in Bangladesh after bringing shame on the family name and is now about to announce that he is in love with an ex-army major who was saving the world on his own until my family intervened.'

Liberty said calmly, ‘I think you are missing the point. It means Gray is really happy, and that is just wonderful.'

‘But fuck it,' said Edmund. ‘I think I had always hoped he could be my saviour. He would be perfect as custodian of Denhelm. And I was hoping I could get back to my business while he took the helm of my
Titanic
.'

‘Oh, don't be so negative,' said Liberty. ‘You have only just started out. You are a brilliant businessman, already proven, so just run the bloody estate as YOU see fit and right. It's only because you are paddling about behind your father at the moment that you feel shaky and out of your depth. Go at it in your own way and things will be fine. Wait until he leaves the place; it would be like me trying to take over this hotel and restaurant. My cooking might be OK, but my father has put thirty-five years of his life into it, and things would inevitably change. You need to gain the respect of those around you, and
you will only do that if you step out from your father's shadow and make your own mark. Yes, you might well tread on toes on the way, but the workers will learn to respect you if you do that, and trust you, if you show them that your way works. Give them shares in the family business if you like – sort out a profit scheme, set up your own ideas. If they work, and the employees earn more, they will feel more loyalty. You said you wanted to put the land to better use; you could either set up a farm shop or raise rare breeds of pigs or cattle, or train racehorses. I don't know the best way, but you certainly do.'