The Woman from Paris Read online

  She nodded, taking a moment to find her voice. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look well.”

  “I’m as fit as a fiddle.” She pulled her arm away and smoothed down her dress.

  “Do you want to look on the high street?”

  “Take me home.”

  “To the dower house?”

  “No, the main house. I shall wait for them there.” She tried to walk, but her legs felt heavy and numb. “Give me your arm, Joshua. There, that’s better. My legs are a little stiff from crouching down.” She began to step slowly towards the path. Joshua tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed that her movements were labored and her breath staggered. Margaret wondered what would have happened if Joshua hadn’t appeared. Was she having a heart attack? What was that burning pain making its way up through her body? But instead of dwelling on it, she switched off her emotions as she had done all her life when things got too painful to endure, and focused instead on getting safely back to the car.

  * * *

  Antoinette closed the gate behind her. “Safe at last!” she said, putting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heart decelerate to a less alarming rate.

  Phaedra looked around the beautiful garden. “What a stunning place!” she exclaimed. “It’s like we’ve just stepped into paradise.”

  “It belongs to Dr. Heyworth. The last time I hid from my mother-in-law I stumbled upon it, and upon Dr. Heyworth, who thankfully has a good sense of humor and asked me in for tea.”

  “Oh, so that was George’s mother.”

  “Frightful woman. She wants to meet you. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

  “Is she so awful?”

  “Yes, she really is. I think we should avoid her as much as possible. Though she’ll find you in the end. She’s a very persistent woman.”

  “She must be devastated to lose her only son.”

  “You would think, wouldn’t you? However, she’s so English you’d never know she was in mourning. She’s had a face like a boot for as long as I’ve known her.”

  “Oh dear, how sad.”

  At that moment Dr. Heyworth appeared at his conservatory door. “Ah, Lady Frampton, what a pleasure to see you at my garden gate.” He grinned at her knowingly. “I’m assuming you’re running away again?”

  “Oh dear,” she hissed to Phaedra. “This is becoming something of a habit. He must think I’m mad!” She strode across the lawn. “Well, as it happens, I am running away again,” she replied.

  “If you’re seeking refuge, why don’t you both come in for a drink?” He turned his eyes on Phaedra.

  “This is George’s daughter,” she explained.

  Dr. Heyworth raised his eyebrows. “Ah.”

  “Hello, I’m Phaedra.” They shook hands.

  “Lady Frampton was just telling me about you the other day. I’m so pleased you came down. Come on in. How long do you need?”

  Antoinette walked through the door he held open for her. “As long as it takes my mother-in-law to scour the town.”

  “A good half hour, then,” he replied with a chuckle. “Good, that gives us a nice amount of time to enjoy a little aperitif.”

  10

  Margaret sat in Antoinette’s drawing room, a glass of sherry in her hand, her face as white as death. Rosamunde noticed she was trembling. She didn’t look quite herself. Joshua made conversation so that his grandmother didn’t have to. She hadn’t said a word all the way back in the car.

  “They had been to Dad’s grave because Mum’s car was parked outside the church, and they’d put daffodils by Barry’s headstone,” Joshua explained.

  “I suspect they’d gone up the high street to do a little window-shopping,” said Rosamunde.

  “Do women ever really window-shop?” Joshua asked provocatively, hoping to rouse his grandmother out of her trance. It was unlike her to be so quiet.

  “Those who don’t have the money to spend do a lot of window-shopping. I don’t think Antoinette and Phaedra will come away empty-handed, though, do you?” said Rosamunde. She glanced at Margaret and frowned. “George has enabled them to buy whatever they want.” This last comment caused Margaret’s eyes to flicker a moment, and she glanced at Rosamunde. “Are you all right, Margaret? Can we get you anything?”

  “I’m cold,” Margaret replied softly. “I’m dreadfully cold.”

  Joshua leapt up and put a few more logs on the fire. The flames licked them hungrily, spitting out little sparks. “That’s better,” he said, feeling the heat intensify. “They should be back soon. After all, how much shopping can they do in Fairfield?”

  “More than you can imagine, I daresay,” said Rosamunde.

  Roberta walked into the room with Amber in her arms. “Did you find them?” she asked.

  Joshua shook his head. “No, but they’ll be back for lunch.”

  Roberta sensed the tension in the room and glanced at Margaret. She noticed at once that something was wrong. It was very uncharacteristic of Basil to lie so quietly at her feet. “Hi, Margaret. Look, Amber, it’s your great-grandmother.”

  “Here, let me take her,” Joshua cut in, pulling a face at his wife to alert her to his grandmother’s odd behavior. She handed over the child and sat down beside him on the sofa.

  “It’s a beautiful spring day,” Roberta continued, trying not to stare at Margaret, who was now the color of putty. “Lovely. We should all go for another walk after lunch.”

  “Amber’s got very rosy cheeks,” Rosamunde exclaimed. “She certainly benefits from being out in the country air, doesn’t she?”

  “Not only her, I feel revived, too.”

  Joshua looked at his watch. “It’s nearly lunchtime. They should be back by now.”

  Suddenly, Margaret put her head in her hand. “I think I need to go and lie down,” she said feebly. “I’m not well.”

  Rosamunde stood up in alarm. Margaret had never been ill the entire time she had known her. “Of course you must, Margaret. You’re just having a turn. A lie-down will make you feel so much better.” Joshua helped his grandmother to her feet. “Which room do you think, Joshua?”

  “The blue room,” he replied, expecting Margaret to insist upon another, but she remained quiet and unsteady. They escorted her up the stairs while Roberta remained in the drawing room with Amber and Basil, wondering what had happened while she had been in the kitchen, feeding her daughter.

  Once Margaret was settled on the bed, Rosamunde covered her with the quilt and closed the curtains. She noticed how old Margaret looked when her eyes were closed. Her face sagged like a deflated ball left abandoned on a wintry beach. Without a word Rosamunde made for the door. Just as she was about to leave, Margaret spoke. “Bring Phaedra to me when I wake up. I’m sure I’ll feel better by then.”

  “Of course I will, Margaret. Now you get some rest and don’t worry about anything. It’s probably something you ate.” Margaret didn’t reply. She let go and allowed her body to drift into sleep, where there was no pain, just sunny memories of happier times.

  As Rosamunde came down the stairs David, Phaedra, and Antoinette were stepping into the hall with Rufus and the Great Danes. They were animated, laughing together as if they had all shared an adventure. “Is she here?” Antoinette hissed to Harris.

  “I’m afraid she took a turn, Lady Frampton,” Harris replied solemnly.

  Antoinette saw her sister descending the stairs. “Where’s Margaret?”

  “She’s lying on the bed in the blue room. She wasn’t feeling well,” Rosamunde replied importantly. “She came back with Joshua, and she wasn’t herself. Her hands were trembling, and her face was deathly pale. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Where’s Josh?”

  “In the drawing room with Roberta.”

  Antoinette hurried past her.

  “Looks like you’ve got away with it,” said David to Phaedra.

  “I’d like to meet George’s mother,” Phaedra replied.

  “Trust
me, you really wouldn’t.”

  Phaedra tapped him playfully. “You’re just being mean. There’s goodness everywhere if you look for it.”

  “I’ve looked and found nothing close to goodness.”

  “Then maybe a fresh eye will find it.”

  “What happened to Margaret?” Antoinette asked Joshua as she perched anxiously on the club fender.

  “She was determined to find you,” he explained. “I took her to David’s to play for time. Then she insisted we look at the church. She saw your car on the verge and went to find you. I went inside, but you weren’t there. When I came out, she was crouching by Dad’s grave. She was clutching her heart.”

  “Oh, Lord, how dreadful,” Antoinette gasped.

  “I helped her up and she insisted she was okay, but she didn’t talk all the way back in the car. She just stared out of the window. Then she sat in here shivering with cold, so I put a few more logs on the fire.”

  “Then she asked to go and lie down,” Rosamunde continued, striding into the room. “She’s lying on the bed under the quilt. She really doesn’t look well.”

  “Oh dear. What if she’s had a stroke? Do you think we should call Dr. Heyworth?” Antoinette asked. “Phaedra and I escaped through the gate behind the church into his garden. We were having a drink, that’s all. It was mean of us to run away. I feel terrible.”

  “I found them sneaking about the town like a pair of fugitives,” David added, wandering in with Phaedra. “At least she won’t have to meet her now.”

  “You’re wrong,” Rosamunde exclaimed. “She specifically asked for Phaedra to be brought to her after lunch. I’m sure she’ll feel better by then.”

  “So I won’t call the doctor until we see how she is when she wakes up,” said Antoinette.

  “The sacrificial lamb,” said David, raising an eyebrow at Phaedra.

  “The virgin offering to appease the beast,” said Tom, standing sleepily in the doorway. He frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “Tom, darling,” Antoinette gushed. “You’ve missed all the drama.”

  “What a shame, I love drama.” Tom swept a hand through his tousled blond hair. “So, Grandma has taken a turn, has she?”

  “She’s asleep in the blue room,” said Rosamunde.

  “Is she on her way out?” he hissed.

  Antoinette flushed. “You can’t say that sort of thing, Tom.”

  “She’s just lost her son,” Roberta cut in. “As a mother I can only imagine how devastating that must be.”

  “Really, Roberta, she’s barely shed a tear,” David retorted.

  “Not on the outside.” She looked at him steadily.

  “She’s as tough as an old rhino,” Tom added with a snigger. “She’s never felt a thing.”

  Roberta rolled her eyes. “Oh, shallow, heartless boys, you understand nothing.”

  “Let’s eat,” said Antoinette, getting up. “Tom, darling, go and check on your grandmother.”

  Tom pulled a face. “Why me?”

  “I’ll go,” Roberta volunteered, taking her child out of Joshua’s arms. “I should put her down for her sleep.”

  “Not before I’ve met her,” said Phaedra, rushing across the room. “Oh, she’s beautiful,” she admired. “May I?”

  Roberta flinched. “She’s rather tired. I don’t think she’ll like being picked up by a stranger.”

  “Oh, please. She’s delicious.” Phaedra wound her hands around the baby’s body and lifted her out of her mother’s arms. Roberta grimaced, but Amber smiled contentedly. “She looks just like you, Roberta. She’s got your eyes. She’s going to be a real knockout.” Phaedra nuzzled the child affectionately. Roberta saw the tender look on Antoinette’s face, and her heart hardened with irritation. Amber grabbed Phaedra’s hair and tried to pull it, and Phaedra laughed as Roberta gently unwound her little fingers to set it free.

  “Well, you’ve won another friend,” said Roberta drily.

  “Oh, I do hope so.”

  “I’d better take her upstairs before she lets herself down and cries.”

  “Small children are meant to cry, aren’t they?”

  “Preferably not in public.”

  Phaedra lowered her voice. “I disagree: it’s important that she cries in public so they all know who’s boss.”

  Roberta fought against the sudden softening of her resolve. It was easy to see how weaker people were seduced by the girl’s charm. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d heard her wail,” she replied coolly and wandered into the hall.

  As she made for the stairs she noticed what must surely be Phaedra’s stripy canvas handbag left carelessly on the sofa. She looked about, like a thief with an opportunity to steal. She was alone. It would take only a moment to rifle through it. Struck by the intense desire to expose her, Roberta sat on the sofa, placed Amber on her knee, and thrust her hand into the bag. She rummaged about a set of keys, diary, lipstick, papers, sweet wrapper, and goodness knows what else until her fingers felt the hard surface of an iPhone. Hastily she pulled it out and pressed the button at the bottom. The light went on, and Roberta gasped. There, to her delight, one clear sentence shone out: Missed call: Julius Beecher. Hearing voices from the drawing room, she hurriedly slipped it back in the bag and set off up the stairs. It wasn’t proof, but it was a lead. Julius Beecher and Phaedra were up to no good together, and Roberta was determined to find out what.

  A moment later David escorted Phaedra into the dining room, where roast beef and Yorkshire pudding were waiting on the sideboard. “You need to gather your strength if you’re to be summoned,” he said mischievously.

  Phaedra laughed. “Don’t you think you’re being a little unkind? Roberta’s right. She’s just lost her son. She might not cry in public, but she’d be superhuman if she wasn’t howling inside.”

  He frowned at her. “I’ve never thought—”

  “Sometimes people are aggressive to hide their true feelings, not only from others but from themselves. I’ll bet she sweeps it all under the carpet so she doesn’t have to suffer. The trouble is, she suffers all the more because she holds it all in.”

  David pulled a face. “I hate to think of Roberta being right about anything.”

  “You don’t like her, do you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “The atmosphere in this house when you’re all together is shocking.”

  “She rubs me up the wrong way.”

  “Probably because she thinks no one ever listens to her.”

  “We would, if what she said was sensible.”

  “Don’t make her feel like an outsider.” She sat down and draped her napkin over her knees. “I tell you what, the next time you have the urge to say something squashing, do the opposite. I find that usually works.”

  He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. “You mean, say something nice?”

  “Yes, let’s see what happens.”

  “You’re asking a great deal of me, Phaedra.”

  “To whom much is given, much is expected.”

  “I’ll give it a go,” he said. “But only for you.” Her smile filled his heart with effervescence.

  “Thank you.”

  Roberta returned with the baby monitor and reported that Margaret was still asleep.

  “Is she snoring?” Tom asked.

  Roberta shook her head impatiently. “She’s as quiet as a mouse.”

  “That’s a contradiction in terms,” Tom laughed.

  Roberta bent down to plug the monitor into the wall and gave a long-suffering sigh. “God, I do hate it when Kathy has the weekend off.”

  “Is Kathy your nanny?” Phaedra asked.

  “Yes, I don’t know how I manage without her.”

  “Looks like you manage very well from where I’m sitting.”

  “It’s full-on, not a moment to myself.”

  “She’s a very good little girl,” said Phaedra.

  “That’s true,” Roberta agreed. “She rarely cries.
”

  “She knows there’s no point because her mother will just leave her,” said Tom.

  “Which is exactly what a mother should do,” David interjected, winking at Phaedra.

  “How do you know so much about child care all of a sudden?” Roberta replied, taking a seat at the table.

  “I don’t, but I assume you’re doing the right thing. Amber’s a happy child. That speaks volumes,” David continued.

  Roberta poured herself a glass of water. “Well, I don’t know whether or not I’m doing the right thing, but I can safely say I do my best.”

  “Your best is good enough,” David added cheerfully.

  “Are you mocking me, David?”

  “No.” He shrugged innocently.

  David’s enthusiasm made Roberta feel uneasy, so she changed the subject. “What do you think of Fairfield, Phaedra?” she asked.

  “It’s an adorable town. Antoinette and I went to the church and then wandered around the shops.”

  “You’ve yet to see the farm,” said David.

  “I don’t think she’d want to see the farm,” Roberta argued. “I can’t believe a girl like Phaedra would be interested in tractors and grain barns.”

  “A girl like me?” Phaedra repeated. “What is a girl like me?”

  “Well, you just don’t look like the type, in those urban boots and tights.”

  “Ah, the country type, you mean?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Perhaps I should have worn a tweed suit.”

  “I wouldn’t say you have to go that far.” Roberta sniffed. “But dressed like that you’ll scare the pheasants.”

  “Are you a country type?”

  “No.” Roberta laughed as if the idea was preposterous. “I’m a city girl.”

  “Then you’re judging me by your own standards. Which is fine; most people are quick to assume everyone else is like them. But I must correct you, I love the country and am happier here than in any town or city. I’d love to be shown around the farm.” She turned to David. “I absolutely insist that you take me this afternoon.”

  “If you insist, I can’t refuse you,” he replied. Then, remembering the deal he had made with Phaedra, he added, “Roberta, you might not consider yourself a country girl, because you’re very sophisticated and urbane, but you adapt very well. Never a piece of clothing out of place, always perfectly pitched.”