The Beekeeper's Daughter (16 page)

Arthur began to speak to the couple in front, but Grace didn’t listen; she kept her eyes trained on the striking figure of Rufus, who smiled politely and looked genuinely pleased to see everyone. He hadn’t changed at all. If anything, the lines that age had carved into the skin around his eyes and mouth only served to enhance his good looks. She wondered whether he would even remember her, and tried to prepare herself for the disappointment if he failed to recall her name.

At last it was their turn. At first Rufus didn’t recognize her. He shook Arthur’s hand and then hers and it was only when he was about to introduce them to Lady Georgina that he turned back swiftly, his expression softening suddenly, and the Rufus she had fallen for that day outside the church smiled at her warmly. ‘Goodness me, you’ve grown up, Grace,’ he said and he seemed to drink in her features as if aware that he didn’t have enough time to savour them.

‘A little,’ she replied, conveying a confidence she didn’t feel.

He stared at her longer than was comfortable, as if ensnared suddenly by a spell. She felt the colour flood her cheeks and didn’t know where to look. But she was unable to tear her eyes away, as if she, too, had been caught by the same magic.

‘Darling, aren’t you going to introduce me?’ It was Lady Georgina, now smiling down at Grace expectantly.

‘Of course, Georgie.’ He shook off the spell. ‘This is Arthur Hamblin’s daughter, Grace, who is a very proficient beekeeper.’

‘Indeed,’ said Lady Georgina, extending her hand. ‘How fascinating.’ Grace felt herself wither beneath the woman’s cool gaze. She shook her hand. It was thin and cold and very soft. Her scarlet lips curled into a polite smile and she nodded briefly before turning her sea-green eyes to the couple who waited behind Grace. Arthur moved on and Grace, feeling the chill of Lady Georgina’s smooth dismissal, glanced quickly at Rufus, who was still looking at her with a bewildered expression on his face. She gave a hesitant smile then followed her father onto the lawn. Her heart was pounding so hard against her ribcage she was afraid the whole tea party would hear it.

‘What a smasher!’ Arthur exclaimed. ‘A real looker!’ He didn’t wait for Grace to reply, but continued enthusiastically as if he had been bound by an entirely different kind of spell. ‘She’s a real lady, she is. What a pleasure to meet her. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so stunning in all my life. They make a handsome couple. We’ll have to remember every detail to share with May tomorrow. She’ll be disappointed if we don’t.’

Grace listened to her father, but her thoughts were with Rufus. She turned to look back, but instead of Rufus’s long face she saw Freddie’s freckly one, gazing at her with ill-concealed admiration.

Chapter 11

‘Wow, you look different,’ said Freddie. But Grace could tell from his expression that he was trying to pay her a compliment.

‘Thank you, Freddie,’ she replied, longing to glance at Rufus over his shoulder but instinctively knowing it would enrage Freddie if she did. ‘You brush up well yourself,’ she added.

‘Isn’t she a corker, Lord Melville’s bride-to-be?’ interjected Arthur, barely able to take his eyes off the willowy Lady Georgina.

‘She’s in a class of her own,’ Freddie agreed. ‘They don’t come better than that. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I’ve never met a more beautiful woman in my life.’ He blushed, as if suddenly aware that his remark, said out of spite, had exposed him.

Grace didn’t flinch. ‘It’s true, she’s very pretty,’ she said. ‘She’s like a rare orchid. They make a fetching couple.’

‘Well, she’s a looker but she’s icy,’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘
I
wouldn’t want to marry her.’

‘I don’t suppose she’d want to marry you, either,’ said Arthur, scanning the tables set up beneath an ancient cedar tree for Victoria sponge cake. ‘Do you think it would be rude to go and have a look at the food?’ he asked.

A butler approached with a tray of drinks. ‘Ah, what have we here?’ Arthur exclaimed, sweeping his eyes over the tray of exotic-looking beverages.

‘Champagne, ginger beer cocktail, sherry, and punch and soda,’ the butler replied politely. ‘If you would prefer tea, Mrs Emerson is serving it under the tree.’

‘I think I’ll have a cocktail,’ said Arthur, helping himself. ‘Grace?’

‘That punch looks lovely,’ she replied, reaching onto the tray. As she did so she caught a glimpse of Rufus over the butler’s shoulder. He was still meeting and greeting the guests, his face aglow with pleasure, as if he really enjoyed shaking hands with the loyal staff who, like an army of ants, kept his father’s great estate in working order. Beside him his frosty fiancée was beginning to wilt in the sunshine. She was barely able to muster a smile and Grace was sure her throat was strained to suppress a yawn.

Suddenly, Rufus lifted his eyes and they locked into Grace’s with a jolt, as if hers had a strange magnetic pull that left him powerless to resist. So surprised was she to be caught watching him that she remained frozen, staring at him with a wide and startled gaze. For a brief, eternal moment, Grace felt the world still around her. There was only Rufus and his dark, enquiring eyes, finding their way into her soul as if they had always known the way.

Then the moment was lost. The people about her sharpened into focus and her father’s voice penetrated her consciousness. ‘Gracey?’ he said. The blood rushed to her cheeks in a flood of embarrassment and with a monumental effort she wrenched her eyes away. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

She took a sip of punch. ‘Shall we go and inspect the tea?’ she suggested, trying to steady the tremor in her voice.

‘Now you’re talking,’ he replied. ‘Freddie? Shall we go and see what’s on offer? I bet they’ll have some mighty good cakes, don’t you?’

The three of them walked across the lawn to the tables. Arthur chuckled with pleasure at the sight of all the cakes and scones and biscuits laid out on pretty china plates. He wandered up and down, shaking his head in astonishment, his cheeks aglow with pleasure.

‘Look at all this!’ Freddie exclaimed. ‘And we’re the first.’

‘Someone has to be,’ said Grace. ‘What’ll you go for?’

‘Chocolate,’ Freddie replied. ‘You?’

‘Coffee.’

‘Let’s share. You have a bit of mine and I’ll have a bit of yours.’

She laughed. ‘You’re a greedy man, Freddie!’

‘Why settle for a taste of one when you can have a taste of two?’

The sight of the three of them at the tables drew others and soon the cakes were surrounded by eager guests, all chatting to one another and commenting on the delicious feast and the delicate beauty of the soon-to-be Countess of Melville. Mrs Emerson, a rotund lady with breasts as large as balloons and hips as wide as the table, merrily talked to everyone, handing out Earl Grey tea in delicate china cups. Arthur had known her since he was a boy growing up in Walbridge and he lingered, sharing a joke or two, while he finished his cake and decided on which spongy treat he’d try next.

The air was infused with perfume as the ladies grew hot in the sun. Grace mingled with Freddie, talking to all those she knew, from the farm labourers who worked with Freddie to cheerless Mr Garner, whom Freddie hoped to supplant one day. Everyone was there. Gardeners and foresters, maids and kitchen staff, butlers and valets. Grace noticed that the Marquess and Marchioness of Penselwood had emerged to mingle. The Marchioness was standing with a couple of smartly dressed ladies Grace didn’t know. They seemed very pleased to be speaking to her, and she was nodding with her head slightly bent, giving them her undivided attention, making them feel that they were the only people on the lawn she wanted to talk to. The Marquess was laughing heartily with Colonel Redwood, whom Grace hadn’t expected to see at the party, and Reverend Dibben, who was at
every
party. She shared her cake with Freddie, who then went back to the table to grab another slice of the coffee cake. Finding Arthur hovering in front of the Victoria sponge, he was detained for some time chatting with him and Mrs Emerson, who enjoyed cheeky young men like Freddie more than she enjoyed cake.

‘Hello, Little Bee,’ came a voice behind Grace. She turned around to find Rufus standing over her. Her heart gave a startled flutter and she blinked up at him in surprise. ‘How are your furry friends? Not stinging anyone, I hope?’ he asked.

She smiled and blushed. ‘No, they’re quietly going about their business.’

‘Good.’ His eyes took in her features and he seemed surprised by what he saw. ‘It wasn’t so long ago that you were a girl. Look at you now. How time has flown.’

‘Yes,’ she replied, trying to think of something witty to say, but finding nothing but a mind blank with confusion. ‘Congratulations on your engagement,’ she said, remembering she had already congratulated him with her father on arrival.

‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘And you?’ His eyes seemed to dig beneath her skin. ‘Are you spoken for?’

She laughed and pulled a face. ‘No, no, I’m . . .’ She looked over at the table where her father was still engaged in conversation, polishing off a slice of Victoria sponge. ‘I’m still with my father. The two of us against the world.’ Her face softened as she watched him. ‘He likes your cake.’

‘Ah, that’s Mrs Emerson’s department. She’s a terrific cook. If I lived here full time I’d be the size she is.’ He laughed bashfully. ‘That’s awfully rude of me, but when I was a boy her nickname was Lardy.’

Grace put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, that’s awful.’

‘Yes, rather. Still, I’m very fond of the old girl.’

‘How’s your grandmother?’

‘Alive, astonishingly. Every year Mama says will be her last and every year she proves her wrong. If there’s another war, I shall suggest she sign up. Put her on the front line and she’d show those Boche a thing or two.’

Grace looked anxious. ‘Do you really think there will be another war?’

‘I’m afraid Hitler’s pushing for war. He’s increasing his armies. He’s swallowed up Austria and now he looks set to swallow up the Sudetenland as well. I’m afraid it looks certain.’

‘But we’ve only just recovered from the last one,’ she protested.

‘I know, but I don’t think people learn from history.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘Human beings are really very stupid, Grace.’

‘Not stupid enough to send young men to their deaths.’

‘They’ve done it before and they’ll do it again and again. It’s all about power, and people will do anything for that, even sacrifice their young men.’

Her eyes clouded with anxiety. ‘Even you?’

His face grew tender and there was something very intimate in the smile he gave her. ‘Would you mind?’

‘Yes, I would.’

‘You’re very sweet, Grace. Really, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as sweet as you.’

She blushed again. ‘Not at all. I’d have a very hard heart if I didn’t care about young men going off to die.’

‘It will happen, but God willing it shall not last as long as the Great War. I shall end my days here at Walbridge, doing what my father has always done and his father before him. Eton, Oxford, Sandhurst; I’ve already ticked those boxes. There’s a rather satisfying sense of continuity in it, though between us, I do dread the monotony. It’s all very predictable. I rather long for twists and turns in my life that haven’t been negotiated at my birth. You know, in a strange way I might even welcome a war. At least it will break up the tedium.’ He sighed. ‘Still, one can’t complain. I know my future; many people don’t have the luxury of such security.’

‘I can’t think of anything nicer than living in this beautiful place.’

‘You’d hate it, Grace. It’s much too big.’

‘But the gardens . . .’

‘Yes, the gardens, they’re special. Full of bees.’ He grinned. ‘Grandmama’s arthritis improved for a while but then it got bad again. She demanded to see you, but I put her off. I knew you’d be upset at having to send more of your favourite creatures to their deaths.’

‘I would have done it for her. Those poor hands looked so painful.’

‘They’re more claws than hands. I’m surprised she hasn’t come out looking for you.’ He made his hands into claws and pulled a face.

She laughed. ‘You’re wicked, Rufus!’

‘If she knew you were here she’d have you in the borders looking for bees. But she hates people, generally speaking, so a party like this is a nightmare to her. I’m not even sure she’ll make our wedding.’

Grace’s stomach plummeted at the mention of his wedding. ‘When is it?’

‘Next May. It’s a long way away, but Georgie wants to get married when the bluebells are out, and I can’t deny her that. I’ll be taking her away from her home and settling her into a house in London where bluebells never grow.’

‘That’s a lovely time of year to get married.’

‘Yes.’ He suddenly looked sad and his forehead creased into a frown. ‘I sometimes wonder . . .’

At that moment Arthur and Freddie joined them. Arthur was having an exceedingly good time, but Freddie’s face had darkened with irritation and Grace wondered who had offended him.

‘Now your father’s here, I shall leave you and mingle.’ Rufus glanced at Freddie and smiled. ‘It’s not polite to leave a lady standing on her own.’ He moved away and was immediately caught by Mrs Garner and a couple of her heavily powdered friends.

‘What was he on about?’ Freddie demanded.

‘He was asking me about the bees,’ she replied. ‘Reminding me of the time he brought his grandmother to our house.’

‘He remembers you, Gracey,’ said Arthur proudly.

‘Not really,’ she lied. ‘He was just being polite.’

‘I suppose they have to make their way around and talk to everyone,’ said Freddie. ‘He’s right, though, I shouldn’t have left you on your own. It made it impossible for him to move on and talk to someone else.’

‘If Lord Melville had not wanted to talk to me, he would have had no trouble in introducing me to somebody else,’ said Grace, and then she did something very out of character. She walked away. She simply turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. How dare Freddie make her feel small and inadequate all the time, she fumed? Talking to Rufus had given her a sudden burst of confidence. If
he
could treat her kindly, then so should Freddie. She needn’t put up with spitefulness from anybody, least of all from someone she had known all her life.