Suddenly, without warning, Margaret laughed. It bubbled up from her belly, through her chest, into her throat, and out in a cheerful, frothy chortle. Antoinette laughed, too. She couldn’t remember the last time they had laughed together like that, if ever. She stared at Margaret in astonishment because she seemed to have transformed before her very eyes. She didn’t look a fraud at all. On the contrary, she looked very relaxed in her mirth.
Once Margaret had gone Antoinette and Harris helped settle Rosamunde into the little sitting room by the fire. She sat on the sofa with her legs up and a blanket draped over her, watching television and sewing. Harris placed a plate of Mrs. Gunice’s shortbread biscuits on the coffee table along with a pot of tea. Rosamunde had taken two of Dr. Heyworth’s painkillers and was now feeling much improved. In fact, as she put a biscuit into her mouth and took a bite, she decided things really couldn’t be better.
Antoinette went outside to find Barry. She squinted as the sun shone bright and warm. Birdsong resounded across the park, a sugary breeze swept across her face, and her heart inflated with happiness.
Her gaze was drawn up to the hill where the folly stood distant and detached, passively surveying the estate with a quiet knowing. It was as if its windows could see—and there was a strange compassion in the way it watched, as if it were waiting for something, or someone, and in time its patience would pay off. She frowned. How odd to give a building human characteristics, she thought. She turned away and walked across the grass, but still she felt those gentle eyes upon her.
19
D
avid, Tom, and Phaedra arrived back at Heathrow late on Sunday afternoon. The short break in the mountains had been idyllic, but now that they were back in England, they felt they were stepping out of an enchanted bubble into a world of concrete and stone. Tom had to return to his nightclub, David to the farm, and Phaedra to her photography and Julius’s persistent calls. They had paid their respects at the place where George had died, and they’d said good-bye. Now they had to get on with their lives without him. The thought was daunting. But what was even more daunting for David and Phaedra was the thought of having to go through the rest of their lives pretending to love each other as brother and sister, when they were both consumed with a very different kind of love.
The last couple of days had been testing. They had skied together all day and dined together in the evenings, growing close as they chatted on chairlifts and shared the tranquil beauty of the mountain’s hidden glades and couloirs. Tom had joined them, oblivious of the growing attraction between them. In fact, so distracted was Tom by his own flowering friendship with Phaedra, he had failed to realize that the often cool formality between Phaedra and his brother was simply their way of concealing the truth—that they were beginning to find each other irresistible.
Phaedra knew it was unwise to spend time with David and resolved to distance herself once she returned to London. David was determined to see as much of her as possible, certain that being with her as a brother was better than not being with her at all.
They parted at the airport. Phaedra and Tom shared a cab into
London while David had left his car in the long-term car park. He had embraced Phaedra and savored the rare moment when they were pressed together, body to body, cheek to cheek. Only when he pulled away did he feel the terrible strain of his hopeless infatuation.
He drove down the M3, wondering how he was going to navigate his way through the minefield he had now laid out for himself. It would have been so much easier if he hadn’t felt that she reciprocated his feelings. But she did. There was no doubt in his mind. He could tell. It was too strong for either of them to hide.
He drove to his house first because he was anxious to see Rufus. When he opened the front door, the dog bounded out in a flurry of dust and fur, jumping up and straining his neck in an attempt to lick his master’s face. David stroked him happily, tickling him behind the ears where he liked it best, and Rufus wagged his tail so excitedly his whole bottom moved as if it had a life of its own.
David dumped his bag in the hall then drove over to see his mother, with Rufus staring at him lovingly from the well of the passenger seat. As he turned off the farm track onto the drive he pulled onto the verge to let another car pass. He didn’t recognize the navy-blue Volvo. The man waved, and David was surprised to see that it was Dr. Heyworth. Surprise turned to anxiety. Was his mother unwell? He hastily drove up to the house and ascended the steps two at a time. He was relieved to find her in perfect health in the little sitting room with Rosamunde and his grandmother.
“David!” Antoinette exclaimed happily. “You’re back.”
“And in one piece,” said Rosamunde. “Sadly, I can’t say the same about myself.”
David bent down to kiss his grandmother. She smiled up at him. “Now tell us everything. How’s that charming girl?”
“What was Dr. Heyworth doing here?” he asked, pulling out one of the dining chairs since his aunt was taking up the whole sofa as if it were a recliner.
“Rosamunde fell down the stairs,” Margaret informed him.
“Very silly of me,” Rosamunde cut in, clearly relishing the attention. “Dr. Heyworth’s been a wonder. I’m feeling much better, but he
insists that I rest all week. So here I am, glued to the sofa while your mother spends all day in the garden getting her hands dirty.”
He looked at Antoinette incredulously. “Really?”
“Yes, I have so much to tell you, so many plans afoot. But first, how did it go? Is Tom all right?”
David sat down. Harris appeared in the doorway with a tumbler of whiskey on a tray. He greeted Harris warmly and thanked him.
“Will you stay for dinner, darling?” his mother asked.
“Love to,” David replied.
“So we’ll be four,” Antoinette told Harris.
“Very good, ma’am,” said Harris, and left the room with a little nod.
David took a deep breath and stared a moment into his whiskey glass. Those four days in Murenburg should have been about his father, but they’d been all about Phaedra. He couldn’t get her out of his head. His father was gone, and he missed him terribly; Phaedra was here but forever out of his reach—he missed her more.
“It was cathartic to see where Dad died and to pay our respects there,” he said gravely. “Tom found it hard, but it was good that he came. We can all move on now.”
“Was it a very big avalanche?” Antoinette asked fearfully.
“Big enough,” Margaret interrupted.
“It was quite big,” David replied. “But the mountain was very peaceful, and it was a beautiful day.” Then his face broke into a smile, and he lowered his eyes. “Phaedra was amazing. She made us all hold hands and say good-bye. It sounds cheesy, and it should have been, but somehow the way she did it made it feel very natural. It enabled us to have closure.”
“How lovely that she went with you,” Margaret enthused. Antoinette’s gaze lingered on her son’s beaming face, and as he continued to talk about Phaedra, she noticed, to her horror, the glow of love in his skin. He radiated infatuation as if he were lit up from the inside like a Chinese lantern.
“She was wonderful with Tom, too,” David went on. “He’s very calm when he’s around her, and they talk and talk. He calls her his
‘guru’ because she’s so wise. I think she’s just compassionate and non-judgmental.”
“When is she coming down?” Margaret asked.
“I haven’t asked her.”
“Well, you must,” Margaret insisted. “Ask her to come for the weekend. This is her home now.” Margaret sniffed as if to seal the arrangement. “Now, your mother and I think you should be getting out more. You spend all your time with that dog of yours, deep in the countryside. You’re not going to find a wife on your tractor, so we’ve been thinking: Wouldn’t it be nice, now you have a sister, to ask her to introduce you to her friends? She must have lots of nice girls for you to meet. Birds of a feather flock together. Phaedra’s very pretty and quite delightful; I’m sure her friends are just like her.”
David chuckled at the absurdity of the idea. The very fact that his mother and grandmother had been plotting together was in itself unimaginable. “I have no intention of doing anything of the sort.”
“But why not?” Rosamunde asked. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“I hate London, for a start.”
“Then she can ask her friends down here. The house is big enough, and it’s about time Antoinette filled it with people again. That’s the way George always liked it, teeming with chums,” said Margaret.
“Phaedra would be embarrassed,” David explained. “She doesn’t feel this is her home. She’s only just getting used to the fact that we’re her family. She still calls Dad George and refers to him as ‘your father’ to Tom and me. The last thing she’s going to do is start organizing house parties for her friends.”
“I’ll talk to her when she’s down this weekend,” said Margaret, as if Phaedra had already accepted the invitation. “We’ll chat woman to woman. Leave it to me.”
“Please don’t, Grandma.”
Margaret grinned, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Sometimes, my dear boy, you have to trust those older and wiser than yourself. We do know what we’re doing.”
Antoinette had never seen her son so electrified as when he spoke about Phaedra. He had enjoyed his fair share of romances in the past
and on occasion brought girlfriends home, but now she knew that he had never really cared for any of them. Phaedra had enflamed his heart, and as his mother she feared for him. Out of all the girls in the world, why had he taken a shine to the only one he couldn’t have? It was so unfair. As much as she wanted his happiness, she didn’t want
this.
It was simply wrong. But what could she do? She couldn’t let on that she knew. He’d only deny it anyway. As she watched him eat his dinner she felt desperately sorry for him—and strangely fearful for herself. If David and Phaedra fell out, how would that affect
her
?
Love seemed to be blossoming at Fairfield. In addition to David, Rosamunde could speak of nothing but how kind and gentle William was. He’d been to see her that afternoon as promised, and the three of them had had tea in the little sitting room. Mrs. Gunice had made fresh shortbreads, and Rosamunde had merrily eaten half of them while Dr. Heyworth had made his way through the other half. Antoinette had been sensitive and left them alone together. She’d also been keen to get back to the garden and Barry, who was busy planting down by the lake the vast quantity of shrubs she had bought at the garden center. For the first time in her life she had a vision of what she wanted the place to look like. It was thrilling to see it materialize.
Dr. Heyworth had found her later with her arms deep in mud. They had sat by the lake and chatted, mostly about Rosamunde. Antoinette was eager to encourage their friendship for her sister’s sake. Rosamunde hadn’t been lucky in love as a young woman; perhaps now, in her autumn years, she’d finally find happiness with William. He’d informed Antoinette that he would come every day until the patient was better, and Antoinette had smiled because she knew her sister was recovering nicely and that there was no longer any real need for a doctor. But if he wanted to come, using Rosamunde’s accident as an excuse to visit her, Antoinette wasn’t going to put him off.
After dinner, David drove his grandmother back to her house. Rosamunde retired to bed, and Antoinette was left alone in the drawing room, suddenly feeling a little lost. It would take months for her to grow accustomed to George’s absence. As Phaedra had wisely said, her children would move on in their lives, as all children do,
but George had been her life, and without him it felt as if there was nowhere to go.
She sat down at the piano and placed Mrs. Heyworth’s manuscript on the music stand. Tentatively, she began to play. At first her fingers faltered, and she hesitated over the more complicated chords. But soon she grew more confident, and little by little her hands remembered what it felt like to move deftly over the keys and settled back into the comfortable flow of rising and falling notes. Her spirit lightened as the music lifted her high until she felt very far away from her worries and no longer alone.
David lay in bed reading. Rufus was snoring in his basket in the corner of the room; otherwise, the night was quiet. He’d walked around the lake, all the time thinking of Phaedra and wondering whether she’d come down for the weekend. Somehow he doubted it. He had glimpsed fear in her eyes as they had embraced at the airport. If she pulled away now, it was because she knew the dangers of getting too close.
He put down his book and stared into space. He longed to talk to her. The clock on his bedside table said midnight. It was too late to telephone. He picked up his iPhone and stared at it for a long while, deliberating what to do. Would she be asleep? Was she thinking of him?
He typed a text:
Just sitting here with Rufus. He’s badgering me about asking you for the weekend. He won’t let up until I do . . . so—will you come? David
He deliberated a long while before pressing Send. It went with a whoosh. There, gone. Nothing he could do about it now. He stared at it, hoping for a reply, but none came. Finally, he lay down and switched off the light. Sleep took a long time coming, but when it came it was deep and heavy, his dreams full of longing.
* * *
Phaedra awoke to see David’s message on her telephone, and her heart gave a sudden leap. She had been so tired the evening before, she’d ignored a call from Julius and turned her light out at nine. She
lay in bed and smiled at the way David had used his dog to invite her for the weekend. That was very typical of his humor. She wanted more than anything to go down to the country, but she was aware of the risks. At least right now she had the strength to walk away. She wasn’t in so deep that she couldn’t extricate herself. Spending more time with David would only take her beyond the threshold of no return and cause her unbearable suffering, because it was an impossible situation. She’d already loved once before—her heart couldn’t take another disappointment.