The Woman From Paris (8 page)

“Please go on, Mr. Beecher,” said Antoinette, keen for the whole business to be over as soon as possible.

“In the event that he is outlived by his wife, he leaves Fairfield House and the estate to you, Lady Frampton, to be managed by your son David, who will inherit it upon your death.” There was no surprise about that. Everyone nodded their agreement. “No. 5 Eaton Place shall remain yours, Lady Frampton, until Joshua inherits it upon your death. He leaves Chalet Marmot in Murenburg to Thomas.”

Tom registered Roberta’s displeasure and smiled at her across the table. “Why would you want Chalet Marmot, Roberta, when you and Josh never go there?”

Roberta blushed. “You’re quite wrong, Tom. It’s right that you should have it,” she said in a tight voice, disguising her jealousy. “Josh and I have so many friends in Gstaad, it would be wasted on us.”

Julius cleared his throat and continued. “Now, he has left his share portfolio to you, Lady Frampton, with the wish that it should be distributed evenly among his three children in the event of your death.”

“What about Phaedra?” Roberta gasped. “I thought she was his daughter? Doesn’t she get a share?”

Julius ignored Roberta; only the subtle raising of one eyebrow betrayed his irritation. “Until that time, he leaves a considerable annuity to all three of his children.”

“All
three
children!” Roberta echoed. “Surely he had four children?” She turned to Joshua. “Why, if he went to the trouble of changing his will, did he not give his daughter equal status to his sons?”

Joshua lowered his voice. “I don’t know, darling. Let’s just listen to the rest of the will.”

Julius pushed on. “A yearly income of the net sum of five hundred and fifty thousand pounds. To Miss Chancellor he leaves a yearly income of the same.”

Roberta was too shocked that George had settled the same amount of money on his illegitimate daughter to absorb the fact that she had
just inherited a fortune. “Has he provided for his granddaughter? What about the Frampton Sapphires? George made it very clear at Amber’s christening that he was going to leave them to us.”

“No, darling, Dad said he looked forward to seeing Amber wear them on her twenty-first birthday.”

“The same thing,” Roberta hissed.

“I was just coming to that,” Julius replied testily. “Lord Frampton has left the Frampton Sapphires to Miss Chancellor.”

A shocked silence fell upon the room. Roberta’s eyes filled with tears of indignation. Joshua looked uncomfortable. David and Tom raised eyebrows, while Antoinette seemed to crumple beneath the weight of her daughter-in-law’s disappointment. Rosamunde took a shortbread biscuit.

Julius inhaled importantly. “We both felt that, as Lord Frampton had only one granddaughter at the time of making his will, he should provide for his wife and children only, leaving you to provide for your own children.”

“I think he has been generous enough,” Antoinette muttered.

“Extremely generous,” Rosamunde echoed.

“I just can’t believe he has given Phaedra the Sapphires,” Roberta wailed. “They were meant to be ours.” She turned to her husband. “Joshua, your father specifically said he’d leave them to you.”

Joshua looked uncomfortable. “Dad changed his mind, obviously. There is precious little we can do about it.”

Roberta sat back in her chair with a huff and folded her arms.

“Shall we continue?” said Julius, clearing his throat and turning the page with deliberation.

“Yes, please, Mr. Beecher,” Antoinette replied, embarrassed.

“Right, now where was I . . . ?”

Half an hour later Julius sped off in his BMW, but not before Bertie had cocked his leg on one of the tires. Antoinette watched Julius go and hugged her body as a cold wind swept up the steps to chill her. She felt deeply disappointed that Phaedra hadn’t turned up. She wanted to telephone her personally to tell her that George had provided for her in the same way as he had provided for his sons. She
paced the steps awhile, deliberating what to do. If Phaedra hadn’t appeared for the reading of the will, what were the chances of her coming to stay the weekend? They hadn’t been very friendly. Perhaps she never wanted to see any of them again.

As she closed the front door behind her, she heard them all talking in the drawing room. Instead of returning to join them, she went upstairs to seek the solitude of her bedroom. She crept inside and leaned back against the door. Roberta’s behavior had severely upset her, but her son’s inability to control his wife worried her more. Margaret’s frequent visits were no consolation. George had held them all together; now he was dead, what was to become of them?

She sighed and wandered over to the window. The sun streamed through the glass, oblivious to the misery of her small world. How unimportant were the petty struggles of human beings when viewed from the great heights of heaven. She wondered whether George was up there somewhere, basking in the light, free from such cares.

Galvanized by the sudden, overpowering desire to bring her husband back, she telephoned Julius’s office and asked the secretary for Phaedra’s number. The young girl was keen to please and swiftly found two: a mobile telephone and a landline. Antoinette dialed the mobile and waited. It seemed to ring for an achingly long time. She could almost hear her heart beating as she waited anxiously for the girl to respond. Finally, the gentle voice of her stepdaughter answered. “Hello, Phaedra, it’s Antoinette Frampton—” She was just about to explain who she was when Phaedra cut in.

“Oh, Lady Frampton. What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

“Well, I wanted to apologize for the other day.”

“Listen, it’s okay. I understand it must have come as a big shock. Please don’t apologize. It is
I
who should apologize to
you
.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you. I’m sorry you couldn’t make the reading of the will today. I just wanted to let you know that George has—”

“Please,” Phaedra interrupted swiftly. “I really don’t wish to know. It’s all highly embarrassing.”

“Don’t you want to know that he’s taken care of you?”

“I’m trying not to think about him at all. It’s simply too painful.”

Antoinette heard a sniff down the line, and her heart swelled with compassion. “I know how you feel, my dear. I’m drowning in memories, too, all around me, all the time; I can barely breathe. I would love you to come and stay. Please don’t say no. I know it’s what George would have wanted. You’re a Frampton, after all.” There was a lengthy pause. Antoinette began to chew her thumb where the skin was already raw. “Maybe you need time to consider?”

“No, I don’t need time,” Phaedra replied softly. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really can’t. Thank you for calling, Lady Frampton, it means a great deal to me.” And she hung up.

Antoinette was stunned. She remained on the bed, holding the receiver to her ear, unable to accept that the girl had refused her. If Antoinette had desired to see her before, she now longed with all her heart. It was as if Phaedra was a link to George, that if she could reach her, she’d reclaim a little of her husband. But she couldn’t reach her; the more she stretched out, the further Phaedra pulled away. She replaced the receiver and put her head in her hands. What on earth was she to do now?

5

R
osamunde found Antoinette on the bed, staring dejectedly into space. “She won’t come,” Antoinette exclaimed as soon as she saw her.

“Who won’t come?”

“Phaedra. I called her and invited her to stay, but she won’t come.”

“How unappreciative.” Rosamunde folded her arms across her sturdy bosom.

“I think we scared her off.”

“She should be thankful you’re so kind, Antoinette. No one else would be that generous.” Antoinette lifted her eyes, and Rosamunde saw the torment in them. “Oh, Antoinette, this is all so bloody!” She sat beside her sister, her big heart filling with fury. “Ungrateful girl! How dare she come down here, drop a bombshell, and then disappear without so much as a backwards glance? It’s unbelievably rude!”

There was a knock on the door, then Tom’s concerned face appeared through the gap. “Are you all right, Mum?”

“Phaedra has declined to come and stay,” Rosamunde informed him importantly. “Your mother is very upset, quite understandably.” She patted her sister’s knee. “You’ll be all right, old girl. This will all go away, I promise.”

Antoinette shook her head. “No, it won’t. I can’t rest knowing that a part of George is walking about the London streets and I’m not even able to talk to her.”

“She’ll come round,” said Tom. “Just leave her be for a while. We weren’t exactly friendly, were we?”

“No, we weren’t,” Antoinette agreed. “It was probably very hard for her, too.”

“What did she expect? You can’t throw a grenade and expect a field of flowers to bloom,” Rosamunde added.

“Mum, can I drive Dad’s Aston Martin back to London?” Tom asked.

“It’s yours now, darling. You can do whatever you want with it.”

He grinned. “Great!”

“Are you leaving now?”

“Got to get back, I’m afraid. Josh and Roberta have just gone. They didn’t want to disturb you. Where are the keys?”

“In the drawer in the hall table.”

He bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Of course she is,” Rosamunde replied briskly. “I’m here to look after her, and David’s just across the garden.”

“Good. I’ll be down on the weekend.”

“Drive carefully.”

“You bet.” He grinned again, imagining himself at the wheel of the gleaming Aston Martin, roaring up the motorway.

When David heard the news that Phaedra had refused to come to visit, he was desperately disappointed. He drove the Land Rover around the farm with Rufus in the well of the passenger seat, mulling over the possibilities. Phaedra might change her mind. After all, she had braved the funeral and was obviously curious to meet them. His father had generously provided for her in his will; perhaps she would now feel more warmly disposed towards his family. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Phaedra was unlikely to change her mind. They had made her feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. Why on earth would she wish to return to that unpleasant scene?

He hated to see his mother so upset. Losing her husband had been a colossal blow, but discovering he had an illegitimate daughter would have floored most grieving widows; not Antoinette. She considered Phaedra a living part of her dead husband. Perhaps she was even hoping that in some magical way the girl could bring a bit
of him back. David knew his mother wouldn’t find peace unless she made friends with her stepdaughter.

There was only one thing to do. He’d have to go to London and convince Phaedra to come down. The mere thought of seeing her again filled him with nervous excitement. He recalled the first time he had laid eyes on her in the church: the halo of blond curls, the translucent skin, the pale innocence of her eyes, the compassionate way she had smiled. He mentally told himself that he had to calm down, that she was his sister, his own flesh and blood, and he couldn’t have her. But he brushed his reservations aside with a joyous toss of the head. He’d worry about that later.

He didn’t tell his mother what he planned to do. He knew she’d advise against it. He confided in Julius instead. The lawyer was delighted to be part of his plan and gave him Phaedra’s telephone numbers and address without hesitation, then took it upon himself to ring Phaedra to warn her.

Phaedra was horrified. “He’s coming here?” she exclaimed.

“I gave him your address,” Julius replied calmly.

“Why? I don’t want to see any of them again. Ever. I’m moving back to Paris right away, Julius. I don’t want to be entangled in this mess.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is what we agreed, Phaedra. This is what you wanted, for George’s sake.”

“Not anymore. I felt such a beast, barging in on them the day of his funeral. It was so embarrassing. I can’t face them again. Tell him not to come.”

“It’s too late. He’s probably already on his way.”

“Then I’ll leave right now. I’m all packed up.”

“Phaedra, calm down,” he soothed. Julius took great pride in his people skills. “Listen to me: George loved you—he proved that by leaving you those very valuable jewels in his will. He wanted to look after you forever. Besides, you said you didn’t have a family. Well, now you do.”

“I want a family who wants me, Julius.”

“Why do you think David’s driving all the way to London? Do you think he’d bother if they didn’t want you? You told me that Lady Frampton telephoned you personally to invite you for the weekend. Do you think she would have done that if she didn’t want to see you again? They’re reaching out to you, Phaedra, which is astonishing, considering the circumstances. I think the very least you can do is graciously accept their invitation.”

“Tell them I’ve got cold feet.”

“Then have a hot bath.”

“Really, you’re absurd!” She laughed in spite of herself.

“That’s better. Now, take a deep breath and think about what you’re going to say. The least you can do is repay their generosity with gratitude.”

*   *   *

It was six o’clock in the evening when David rang the bell at number 19 Cheyne Row. The narrow street was hidden away like a secret, lost in a maze of one-way lanes and prettily painted town houses between the King’s Road and Chelsea Embankment. In spite of the shadow cast by the Catholic church opposite, the setting sun found its way onto the damp pavements where a dog walker was being dragged across the tarmac by a pack of five eager hounds.

Phaedra’s residence was small and eccentric, having been converted into a home from an old fire station. The door was cut into a large wooden arch where the fire engine once used to drive in and out, and above, a wide window consumed the whole of the first-floor wall. The light was on inside, but no one answered. David pressed the bell again.

At last the door opened tentatively, and Phaedra’s pale face peered through. She feigned surprise. “David, what are you doing here?”