The Woman From Paris (50 page)

Dr. Heyworth smiled knowingly, remembering what Margaret had told him the day before. “Let’s go and find out.”

They set off at a pace with Bertie and Wooster trotting ahead into the garden. Light-gray clouds hung heavily in the sky, but every now and then the heavens glowed as the sun tried to burn through. As they reached the top of the hill they spotted David’s Land Rover
parked on the track. “Oh dear, it looks like she called David, too.” Antoinette turned to Dr. Heyworth in panic. “You don’t think she’s getting us all up here to say good-bye, do you? Oh, God, I hope she’s okay.”

“She’s as strong as an ox,” said Dr. Heyworth confidently.

“No, she isn’t. She just pretends she is. Inside, she’s as soft as the rest of us. I know it sounds odd, considering our troubled relationship, but since George died I’ve grown to like her. No, more than that, I’m fond of her, terribly fond of her.” She accelerated her pace.

Dr. Heyworth took her hand and squeezed it. “She’s fine, Antoinette. Trust me, she has many years left in her.”

At last they reached the folly. Antoinette took a deep breath and pushed open the door. There, sitting on the sofas and chairs around the fire, were Margaret, Reverend Morley, David, and Phaedra.

Antoinette put her hand to her heart. “You’re all right, Margaret!” she sighed, wanting to cry with relief.

“Of course I’m all right,” Margaret retorted from the armchair. “But you’re not. Come and sit down, dear, and let me explain.”

Antoinette stared in bewilderment at David and Phaedra, sitting together on the sofa. David had shaved, but that wasn’t the only thing that made him look different. He was happy. Very, very happy. Reverend Morley stood up at once and offered Antoinette the armchair beside the fire. She sat down gratefully and watched Dr. Heyworth find a chair and pull it up between the sofa and Margaret. Reverend Morley perched on the club fender.

“Yesterday you were dying, Margaret. Now here you are with David and Phaedra. What’s going on?” Antoinette noticed that Phaedra looked smaller than before, her narrow shoulders as thin as coat hangers in her olive-green cardigan. But her face was radiant and her cheeks as pink as crab apples; only her eyes betrayed a certain apprehension. She glanced at Antoinette then hastily looked away.

“Well, frankly, I’m bored of watching my family mope around as if the sun has packed up and gone away. I missed Phaedra, too, and being a selfish woman, I wanted her back as much for myself as for everyone else. Roberta was my partner in crime. She remembered
that Phaedra had been house-sitting for a friend and took it upon herself, without any encouragement from me, to go round and ask for a forwarding address. It was very simple. She then called me and gave me the address on rue de Longchamps. Well, we both knew that David can be stubborn. He didn’t think Phaedra would want to see him, so I had to put on an act.”

Antoinette looked horrified. “
That
was an act?”

“Yes, I didn’t realize quite how good I was. Perhaps I should have been an actress.” She glanced at Reverend Morley. “I’m sorry I put you all through that, but I had no choice. Isn’t it wonderful that I’m so well!”

“So poor David thought you were dying, too?” Antoinette turned to her son, who shrugged carelessly, as if it had been nothing.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t totally convinced. She was a little too energetic for a dying person,” he reassured her.

“But off you went, dutifully, to bring Phaedra back.” Margaret smiled triumphantly. “And that’s exactly what you did. Now, I know this was very underhanded, Antoinette, and you’re probably very cross with me for going behind your back. But I’m old and wise, and I know better than you do what’s good for you. I know you missed Phaedra as much as the rest of us, and you’re never going to do the farm shop on your own. I want to be alive to enjoy those piglets.”

Phaedra risked a glance at Antoinette. She wasn’t sure George’s wife would forgive her. David had promised her she would, explaining that time had allowed Antoinette to gain some perspective and, consequently, a little understanding. Phaedra still hadn’t been certain, however, and David had had to work hard to persuade her to come home with him. Deep down, Antoinette needed her, he had said, even if she hadn’t the vision to see it yet. Now Phaedra looked at her fearfully.

If Antoinette had been asked the day before how she would feel were she suddenly faced with Phaedra, she would have declared that mentally she wasn’t ready to forgive. However, it is one thing to think coldly from one’s head and quite another to think warmly from one’s heart. Now that the two women were together in the same room,
Antoinette felt her heart swell with compassion. She stood up and walked over to Phaedra, propelled by an impulse that had little to do with thought. She reached out and drew her up from the sofa. Without hesitation, she enveloped her tightly. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said softly, feeling Phaedra’s childlike frame and the trembling that ran through it. Phaedra’s tears seeped into Antoinette’s shirt. She rested her head on her shoulder and closed her eyes. The two women embraced for a long moment. Antoinette didn’t need to explain, because forgiveness was in her gesture and in the words she whispered for only Phaedra to hear.

“Right, well, I’m glad it’s all worked out,” said Margaret. She narrowed her eyes and registered the tender expression on Dr. Heyworth’s face as he watched Antoinette. “Looks like it’s just you and me now, Reverend,” she added to the vicar, who momentarily looked a little nervous. “I think a call to Harris for some supplies wouldn’t go amiss,” she added, pulling her mobile telephone out of her pocket. “What does everyone want?”

Epilogue

A year and a half later

M
argaret sat with Reverend Morley at the round table beneath the folly’s grand pediment. She gazed down at the gardens of Fairfield Park and watched with amazement as the estate slowly filled up with visitors. Since Antoinette had decided to open it to the public for the whole month of June, the work in the borders, wild gardens, and around the lake had increased so that now the place looked even more beautiful than when
she
had employed an army of gardeners. Margaret had always known that Antoinette had great flair, but she had never imagined that those fingers, so deft at handling fabrics and furnishings, could turn their magic to garden design.

Margaret had enjoyed watching her redecorate the house. The silly woman had refrained from changing anything in all the years she had lived there with George, for fear of offending
her
. If Antoinette had ever asked her opinion, she would have told her that the place had been in dire need of redecoration for decades—in fact, she would have done it herself if she’d had the will, which she hadn’t. Decorating houses didn’t interest her like it interested Antoinette. Now that she had married William Heyworth and moved into his house in the village, Antoinette was restoring the big house for David and Phaedra, and the result was as astonishing as the gardens.

“I do like a happy ending,” Margaret said, sighing with satisfaction. Reverend Morley nodded thoughtfully, sipping his tea, which Mrs. Gunice had sent up in a thermos flask. “Phaedra returned and
everything shifted back into place again. She’s a dear girl and very capable, though I do respect her for leaving the decoration of the house to Antoinette. It’s important to be aware of one’s limitations. I’m not sure I like so much pink in the bedroom, however. Fine for a little girl, but Phaedra’s a woman. Of course, one can’t interfere everywhere, so I bit my tongue; it’s
her
bedroom, after all, and Antoinette insists the choice of color had nothing to do with her. In fact, if I remember rightly, she said it was David’s choice. Blue would have been more appropriate. Still, I have to say that Phaedra’s jolly good at running the farm shop. I’m not sure Tom is a great contributor, though he’s doing his best, and it’s nice to see him helping in the family business. That nightclub of his was never a good thing. Now all we need to do is find him a nice girl so that he can settle down, too. You know, when George was around, although he kept the family together, he never managed to make us all like one another. Oh, those years were very tense. It was like walking on eggshells around Antoinette. The lovely thing is that since his death we’ve all become friends. I think that’s got a lot to do with Phaedra. Don’t ask me how she does it; I’m not a psychologist, but she has a wonderful magic. To think that we almost lost her.” She sighed again, this time with relish. “I took it upon myself, you remember. Sometimes one has to simply take control when others are too stubborn or uncertain to do it for themselves. I knew that she’d come back if we asked her. Forgiveness is a wonderful thing, isn’t it, Reverend Morley?”

Reverend Morley put down his teacup. “Lady Frampton,” he began, a little hesitantly, “don’t you think now, after all the years we’ve known each other, that you might call me Joseph?”

Margaret was appalled. “Joseph? Good gracious, no. You’re a man of God, Reverend Morley; calling you Joseph would diminish you. A man of your stature should have a title that reflects your distinction and gives your position a sense of gravitas and formality. I look up to you, Reverend, and I respect your opinion on everything. I couldn’t possibly start calling you Joseph. What a ridiculous suggestion.”

Reverend Morley picked up his teacup again, cowed. It wasn’t often that he could get a word in to offer his opinion these days.

“I must say that it was jolly good of Phaedra to lend the Frampton Sapphires to Roberta indefinitely,” Margaret continued. “She insists she will never wear them and David has at last accepted her reasons. I can’t say I mind terribly who has them, as long as they stay in the family. One has to honor one’s ancestors, don’t you think?” But before the vicar could comment, she was off again. “Ironic that after having masqueraded as a Frampton, Phaedra became one. David wasted no time in putting a ring on her finger, and I don’t blame him. He’d suffered her running off once before; he wasn’t going to let
that
happen again.” She smiled contentedly. “I thought I’d be dead by now, but look at me: still here to enjoy all the goings-on. And there are an awful lot of goings-on at Fairfield, don’t you agree?” She settled her imperious gaze on her companion. “Reverend Morley, you haven’t said a single word for a long time. Have you lost your tongue?” Then her eyes softened, and she smiled at him fondly. “Why do you put up with me?”

He smiled back and shook his head. “Because you’re never dull, Lady Frampton—and you have a good heart.”

“Ah, that’s the bottom of it. Heart. Life would be jolly cold and unfriendly if there was no heart. Tell me, Reverend . . .”

“Yes?”

She sighed happily. “Anything.”

“Anything?” The vicar, as was so often the case, found himself confounded by Margaret Frampton.

“Yes, tell me anything you like.” She sat back and folded her hands in her lap expectantly.

*   *   *

That evening David and Phaedra walked Rufus around the lake. The moon was big and fat like a glowing puffer fish, stars glimmered and glittered in the immense sky, and somewhere in the middle of the woods a pair of owls hooted to each other in a haunting courtship.
David and Phaedra held hands. In spite of the months that had passed they still felt blessed to be together. They remembered the pain of separation and knew that whatever happened in their marriage, they would never be parted like that again.

“I have an idea,” said David suddenly, gazing up at the hill where the folly could be seen by the light of the moon. “You always said that you wanted to see the dawn from the folly.”

“Yes, I did. Are you about to suggest we go and spend the night up there?” She felt a frisson of excitement through her bones.

“The sofa’s deep enough for two. Mother had it tailor-made especially big.”

“I’m not sure she had
that
in mind when she commissioned it.”

He swung her around. “It’s very romantic up there,” he said, and kissed her forehead.

“And I do have a wild and reckless streak,” she joked, pulling him closer.

He kissed her lips. “There are blankets and a fire, Grandma’s hidden stash of wine . . .”

“Just you, me, Rufus, and the sounds of the woods,” she murmured.

“Let’s do it.”

She laughed. “As you wish, milord.”

“Then come, milady, and let me show you
my
wild and reckless streak!”

They set off up the lawn side by side, hand in hand, full of excitement. The dew sparkled in the silvery light as they strode over the grass, and Rufus, thinking he was going for a long walk, disappeared into the undergrowth. When at last they reached the folly, they stood a while and let their eyes wander over the mysterious beauty of the night. The valley below was lit up so that shafts of light illuminated the ground as brightly as if it were day.

Phaedra leaned against her husband. “I’m very happy, David,” she said softly. “I never thought I’d ever belong anywhere.”

He bent down and rested his cheek on top of her head. “Your destiny was always here with me, and I thank the God that made it so.”

“You know, in the depth of my despair I asked George to put right his wrong; I think he did.”

“If he’s watching now, I bet he’s as happy as we are—that is, if he’s not still rattling those pearly gates.”

Phaedra turned round and gazed up at him anxiously. “Darling, he’s not rattling the pearly gates. He’s walked right through them. Trust me. It’s because of George that we’re together. It’s because of George that we’re all of us happy. It’s because of George that I love you.”

He brushed a tendril of hair off her face. “You once said that you were ‘desperately, deliriously, and overwhelmingly’ in love with Dad. You also said you’d never love like that again.”

She smiled up at him, aware that the love she felt for David could never be put into words. “I don’t love you like that, my darling, and I’m glad I never will.”

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The Woman from Paris