The Sweetness of Liberty James (65 page)

While Liberty and her crew had been feeding the masses, Mrs Goodman had been hard at work. She had been reluctant to join the fete, as it seemed a little incorrect to socialise with one's boss and his future wife. She may only be the housekeeper, but her eyes were wide open. She had therefore spent the day enjoyably raiding the stocks of shops bereft of customers, who were all busy filling their faces in Littlehurst. Florists, delicatessens and the farm shop had all been grateful of her custom on such a quiet day.

The rosewood dining table could hold up to twenty people, but Mrs Goodman had arranged it carefully. The centre was
massed with pretty Meissen bowls of white tulips and she had used silverware and huge platters bearing candles and vast displays of pomegranates, white grapes and figs to fill the expanse of white linen tablecloth, so everything looked inviting and homely. Mrs Goodman had always admired the Dowager Duchess of Devonshire for her ambitious table decorations, and wished she could copy the brood hens the duchess had once placed in the centre of the dining table together with a basket of chicks, but on this occasion thought a more traditional route to be best.

Edmund let his father sit at the head of the table, as it would have felt odd to do otherwise. Anyway, he wanted to seat himself next to Liberty and as host, he would have had Isabelle and Deirdre on his right and left. Paloma pouted for a second, but then grinned as she had her darling Claude on one side and the dashing Edmund on the other, and she relished any chance to grill him about Liberty.

Liberty felt Edmund's warm gaze on her back as he held out her chair. The look that had passed between them earlier had pierced the protective cover she had wrapped her heart in. It had allowed her own love to spark, and she now embraced the feeling. There was no holding back; she let the wondrous, warm glow fill her, envelop her whole being. Love was literally lighting her up; her cheeks were flushed a becoming pink and her rosy mouth was set in a permanent smile, something she was aware was not entirely appropriate given the circumstances, but she simply couldn't help herself. She no longer felt hungry. Thoughts of the crazy day they were having, or her café, had disappeared from her mind; she was only aware of Edmund. She knew she loved him absolutely and the look that they had shared in the sitting room had at last made her deeply aware of his feelings for her. Despite the tension and excitement around the table, all she could concentrate on was the electricity passing between their two bodies. Quite inappropriate, she kept telling herself, but when she caught Savannah's eye she was met with a
knowing raise of an eyebrow and a smile that spelt mischief and understanding.

‘So, where do we go from here?' asked J-T, breaking the silence. There was a long pause, as everyone considered the options. With Mr and Mrs CR at the table, it was difficult to talk freely. Everyone wanted to have a go at Percy, but felt it would be disrespectful to the poor parents. Liberty tried to concentrate on the moment in hand and her in-laws, but failed miserably, grinning up at Edmund's face as he suddenly stood while Mrs Goodman placed wine and starters before them.

‘I know we have just shared some shocking news, but come on, we have to raise our glasses and say well done, Liberty!' His eyes did not leave hers as he took a sip. Shivers were sent up and down Liberty's spine, and she didn't dare move a muscle.

Reading her feelings, Edmund interrupted everyone's joint toast as they stood to congratulate her, and said, ‘This has been the most extraordinary year. We must congratulate my father, not only on his retirement, but also on his new love, Paloma, whom we welcome to the family. Also, Deirdre and Alain – about bloody time, may I say!'

‘Hurrah!' came the collective cry.

Edmund battled on. ‘To my darling sister and her crazy husband, who has forgiven us all, we hope, for thinking him a Muslim extremist who would kidnap children and keep our darling sister hostage. It turns out it was a cunning plan to conceive another baby!'

Through the now whooping voices, Edmund continued, ‘Talking of which, we must also bless the now probably awake little Yves upstairs. Well done, the two of you, and I apologise for keeping you up so late, as you must be even more exhausted than my darling Liberty.' The room went quiet again as everyone took a large swig of excellent white burgundy, and they looked at one another, expecting him to propose then and there.

Liberty was about to explode, and the rest to dive into their supper, when Edmund came out with a final toast. ‘And, to the
last two couples we find at our table. First, to Bob and J-T. Thank you, Bob, for your help tonight, and for forgiving Gray and J-T, which enabled you to be here tonight.'

Before Bob could bluster out a ‘What the fuck?' Edmund silenced him by quietly saying, ‘And a big bravo to Cecil and Isabelle, who have allowed a bunch of strangers into their lives tonight, which I, as a certified stuffed shirt, know is very difficult. Let us help you, you are amongst friends – and welcome!'

Edmund sat as the table erupted with passionate ‘hear hears' and clapping from Bob and J-T; even Isabelle and Cecil were smiling. They had found out that the daughter-in-law they thought they had lost was still including them as family. The delectably light pea mousse was now fairly solid, but the brave and the polite were taking forkfuls, most wishing the dogs were beneath the table for titbits, and feeling embarrassed for Mrs Goodman. It had been delicious, but was no longer worth eating. Mrs Goodman had been housekeeper at Denhelm for long enough to understand. Her delight was in looking after the family, making sure there was delicious food if it was needed. She cared not what happened to it. She was so happy that the normally reticent, quiet Edmund was showing the passion and love his mother had passed to him at long last. She cleared the plates, and then went up to see if the children needed more supplies for their camp.

Cecil said firmly, ‘I feel I need to offer thanks to you all, especially Edmund, who has made us feel so welcome.' Isabelle, who had been chatting to Jonathan, looked over to her husband with such warmth that the hairs on everyone's necks stood to attention.

But Cecil had more to say. ‘We need a lawyer, to find out what can be done via legal routes. If we have a case against Percy, he will have to come back from wherever he is holed up at the moment, and face the board at the bank. We will also have to explain things to Mrs Stickybunns. If she wants to press charges, the ball will be in her court. If she agrees not to go to the police,
and if Percy pays her the full value of the painting, he can keep the Pissarro and we just have to hope he will then toe the line, and either come back to the bank or hand in his resignation and separate the family from the business before any more collateral damage is done. However, I very much doubt he will admit his wrongdoing and realise what an ass he has been. I have no idea myself what to say to him. No doubt those will be my waking thoughts for the next few days. Liberty, my dear girl, I leave it up to you to decide how to proceed with the police over the matter of his bugging your home, and I can only apologise on his behalf for the attempted sabotage of the café, but I think we would all agree, based on today's success, he has had little effect.'

Mrs Goodman appeared with a huge wooden board laden with fore rib of beef. She paused for a moment, unsure which Mr de Weatherby should carve, but Edmund came to the rescue and said, ‘Pa, you carve. I'm not sure my new-found cake-cutting skills qualify.'

Mrs Goodman shot him a grateful smile, and rushed off to get the parsnip purée, roast potatoes and carrots. As Jonathan passed round thin slices of the perfectly pink beef on warm plates, Liberty dragged her eyes from Edmund and looked about her. She noted most people were slightly confused, as they were having such fun, and everyone was chatting in-between the serious bits, pleased to be there. She could see Bob and J-T in deep discussion, probably about boutique hotels. The looks of love passing between all the couples were rather special, and there was the air of a wedding party.

She then let her eyes fall on Cecil, who was talking to Deirdre about the problems of dogs in town. ‘Poo bags! You are arrested unless you carry them, and I'm not sure I could even bend down these days to pick the stuff up. However, we think we may now stay in the country – it's done me the world of good. Isabelle has been an angel, looked after me in a way no wife should have to.' His voice started to quiver, and Liberty hated to see the worry etched on his tired face; he didn't deserve this. She
was relieved, in light of the Stickybunns story, that it would not be because she was suing Percy for divorce to try to get him to toe the line, and she immediately reassured him that she would not be sticking – no pun intended – any more dirt to the good name of the family. ‘I think he will have no need to bother me. The threat of losing his painting will be sufficient to call him to heel. But I doubt he could pay for it. Would he have to sell the mews house?'

‘Surely he would be willing to do that,' replied Cecil. ‘Who will approach him?'

‘I could,' said Bob as he loaded up his plate. ‘I could say I had met Mrs Stickybunns at the fete. If I told him I had discovered he had swindled the old lady, I could speak to him, man to man. That way we would know what attitude he was going to take.'

Liberty suddenly realised she needed to be free of Percy. ‘I will sign the divorce papers and send them with you – two birds with one stone!'

Isabelle looked askance at Liberty, who blushed, realising she had possibly enjoyed too much wine, and ignored most of the delicious food, but she was pleased to feel free of guilt at last. She had put off signing the papers, feeling it was an admission of failure, but now it felt as natural as closing a door behind her.

Despite the main topic of conversation being so unpleasant, there was a close feeling around the table. It was as though they were all part of the same family. Khalid, sitting beside Isabelle, was gently telling her how difficult it could be to be brought up as the only, or eldest, son of a prominent family. So much expectation, especially as an only child. ‘Maybe it's just been too much for Percy. I have a strong impression he has been leading the life that was thrust upon him, and carrying it out as a duty. When Liberty and he split up it put, I think this is the expression, the cat among the pigeons, and allowed him to do some playing. Perhaps it's out of his system by now, but maybe it is time he resigned his directorship at the bank and found his own path in life.'

‘And what will become of Anstley Hall?' asked Isabelle in terror. ‘What if he forces us out, or has to sell to pay for the painting?' She had barely touched any food either, but was enjoying the company and feeling of warmth that had been missing from her own family home. ‘It's been in my husband's family for hundreds of years. It would break his heart to have to sell it.'

‘Dear Mrs Cholmondly-Radley,' said Khalid. ‘Times change. We all have to adapt, sometimes for the best, sometimes for our happiness and health. I think it would give you and your husband great peace of mind not to have to worry about the future of a house which has perhaps outlived its purpose.'

Savannah smiled at her husband. How well he understood the problems of a culture, of people trying desperately to cling to a past of apparent safety and continuity, while at the same time attitudes and lifestyle changes had made many of England's grand country houses obsolete. It was an admirable trait of his personality that he had bothered to learn about English heritage and history, although that might have had something to do with being educated at Gordonstoun.

Khalid came from a society where religion and family were intertwined and held more weight than wealth and its trappings, although bizarrely, when wealth was added to the mixture, it was flaunted much more flamboyantly than in England. It had all of its own intricacies, tribal systems and contradictions, but also a long, strong history and ability to hold people together.

Isabelle looked at Khalid in awe. ‘I would be asking my husband to give up not only a business that has held his family in their precious home for the past two hundred years, but also the family home.'

‘Yes, and then you can go cruising, or on safari!' Khalid quickly changed the suggestion when Isabelle's expression made it clear she would rather spend time playing on a dungheap.

‘Well, perhaps not cruising, but tour the Med, stay with Paloma. You should see where she lives, it's magical! Come and
stay with Savvie and me in Paris on the way, and then drift slowly to the south of France, and when you get bored with St Tropez, wend your way along the corniche to Italy. When was the last time you holidayed abroad?'

It was a complete mystery to Khalid that the British upper class seemed to prefer vacationing in midge-infested Scotland, or in windy Norfolk, rather than relaxing in warm sunshine.

‘I suppose it would be good for Cecil's health, and it would be lovely to see Florence and Venice. The last time I visited Italy was on my honeymoon.'

‘There you are!' said Khalid firmly. ‘Look to the future. You have been, if you will allow me to suggest, living through your son for a long time. Take the pressure off him, and I think you will find you get to know him better.'

Savannah was telling Liberty across the table that she was going to stay at Denhelm for the weekend at least, and that she could help get LIBERTEAS up and running. ‘Please let me help. I'm sure I would be a simply fabulous waitress. Going by today's success, anyway.'

Liberty chortled at her friend's new-found delight in the working environment. ‘Very kind of you, darling. Much as it would be fun, I'm not sure I need the distraction. You will do a much better, and more important, job of cheering me up at the end of the day with a glass of wine and a gossip.'

‘I can't say I am not desolated,' huffed Savannah. ‘But in any case, I am hoping to spend the time with J-T, scouring antique shops looking for bits and pieces for our home. It has vast walls, and cries out for objets d'art, and we have only filled half the rooms with furniture. The interior decorator who darling Khalid hired only papered and painted, knowing I would want to do my own thing once we were installed.'