The Beekeeper's Daughter (40 page)

‘I’ll get it,’ Trixie offered.

‘We should go and sit outside. It’s still sunny.’

‘OK, good idea,’ said Trixie. There was an urgency to her mother’s voice. Her expression had changed. She had a look of intent. ‘Where’s Dad?’ Trixie asked.

‘Playing golf. He won’t be back until late, which is a very good thing.’

Trixie poured two glasses of wine from the fridge and followed her mother onto the veranda. ‘How much do you know?’ Grace asked.

‘Everything,’ Trixie replied. ‘And more.’

Chapter 27

Grace and Trixie settled onto the swing chair as they had done so often in the past. Grace took a large swig of wine. ‘OK, darling. Start from the beginning. Why did you go to Walbridge?’

Trixie lifted her handbag onto her lap. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ she asked.

‘Of course not, though you should really try to quit. It’s a horrible habit, not to mention bad for your health.’

‘I know. I will. I promise.’ She delved into the bag for her packet and lighter. She lit one and blew the smoke out of the side of her mouth, away from her mother. Grace noticed her hand was trembling. ‘I found your box of letters in the shed,’ Trixie confessed.

Grace inhaled slowly. ‘I see.’

‘I wasn’t looking for them. The door was open and I went to close it.’ She couldn’t tell her mother about the strange presence she had felt. She was certain she’d think her crazy. ‘They’re beautiful, Mom. Really romantic.’ Grace drew her lips into a thin line and turned her eyes to the sea. Trixie continued. ‘I wondered why Rufus returned your letters.’

‘It was his way of ending the affair, I suppose.’

‘But why did he end it?’

Grace shrugged. ‘I don’t know why. He gave no explanation. He simply returned my letters. I was devastated. Perhaps his wife found out. I don’t know. It was a long time ago . . .’

Trixie looked at her mother with such compassion, Grace’s eyes overflowed. ‘Mom, he returned your letters because he
had
to end the affair. He had to end the affair because Dad saved his life in the war. The bullet that took Dad’s eye was meant for Rufus, but Dad leapt in front of him. He was heroic. Didn’t he ever tell you?’

Grace frowned and shook her head. ‘No! He never told me. How do
you
know?’

‘Lady Georgina told me. She thanked me. She said Dad was a hero and they were eternally grateful to him.’

‘Why wouldn’t he have told me?’

‘I don’t know. But then I had tea with old Lady Penselwood.’

‘Is she still alive?’

‘She certainly is, Mom. She told me that Dad didn’t want any fuss. They wanted to thank him and offered him anything he desired as a reward. He asked for a new life in America. Do you know who found this house and set him up on the farm?’ Grace shook her head. By her contorted features Trixie knew this was all coming as a terrible shock. ‘Randall Wilson Jr.’

‘I don’t understand . . . How?’

‘Because Aldrich Penselwood was a good friend of Randall Wilson.’

‘I knew that,’ said Grace in a quiet voice, remembering her conversation with Big. ‘Go on.’

‘Aldrich Penselwood bought this house for you to thank Dad for saving his son’s life.’

‘Freddie never told me. He just said we were moving to America. He was so strange. So distant. Not the Freddie I knew. The war had changed him so much, I barely recognized him. He was hostile and cold.’ Her shoulders began to shake. ‘It was awful. I not only lost Rufus but I lost Freddie, too. I lost both of them and I lost my home. The only things I had left were my letters and my memories.’

Trixie put her arms around her mother and pulled her close. She felt small and fragile. ‘It was a callous way to end the relationship with the woman he loved,’ said Trixie. ‘He could have told you why. Did you ever read them?’

‘My own letters? No, I couldn’t bear to. I put them in the bottom of the box. Why? Did you?’

‘Yes, I did . . .’ Trixie was about to tell her that she’d also found a letter that was meant for Freddie, but something held her back. She didn’t want to compound her mother’s distress. ‘They were beautiful,’ she said instead.

‘Rufus must have been furious that it was Freddie who leapt in front of him. Because due to that act of courage Rufus had to give me up. How ironic that fate should throw them both together in that way.’

‘Returning your letters seems like an act of defeat.’

‘I suppose it was. There were many obvious obstacles in the way of our happiness together, but Rufus would never have foreseen that one.’

‘And none would have been as decisive,’ Trixie added. She squeezed her mother gently. ‘I never thought I’d say poor Rufus. But I mean it. Poor, poor man.’

Grace chuckled softly. ‘That’s because you have been hurt by love.’

‘Perhaps. I love Jasper with all my heart but I had to leave him.’

‘Darling, I’m so sorry.’

‘I always thought you couldn’t understand, but I now realize you’re the only person who really does understand, because you have loved and lost too.’

‘When you lost Jasper all those years ago, I wanted to confess that I had loved his father. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to betray your father. I love him too, Trixie. It might sound strange, but I love your father. I love the man beneath the coldness. He wasn’t always like that. He’s not like that really. I love him in spite of it.’

Trixie rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. ‘I know I can get through it with your help. If I can talk to you about it, I know I will eventually move on.’

‘A problem shared is a problem halved.’ Grace gently pushed her daughter away. She looked into her eyes and recognized the sorrow there. ‘I never wanted you to suffer like I have.’

‘It’s worth it, though, isn’t it? You’d do it all again, wouldn’t you?’

Grace smiled. ‘I think I would.’

‘Well, so would I.’

‘Tell me. How did Rufus die? I’ve often wondered.’

‘He went into the garden in the middle of the night, sat on a bench, gazed at the stars and died.’

Grace’s eyes spilled over again. ‘Listening to the sounds of the garden at night.’

She nodded and laughed through her tears. ‘He told me that if I listened carefully enough I’d hear the very breath of the garden, going in and out, in and out.’

‘I think he died of a broken heart, Mom. I bet he never stopped loving you. His mother said the end of the war changed him. I think she meant the end of his
affair
.’

‘Lady Penselwood,’ said Grace slowly. ‘The war changed her, too. She had a wild affair with the gamekeeper.’

‘Really? Like
Lady Chatterley’s Lover
?’ Trixie exclaimed gleefully. ‘Who’d have thought she had it in her?’

‘She was very beautiful in her day. She came alive during the war. Rufus and I were in the woods and we saw her and Mr Swift, up against a tree. It was frightfully shocking.’

‘What did Rufus say?’

‘He thought nothing of it. I think he rather admired her for her zest!’

They both laughed. Grace gazed at her daughter with affection. She took her hand. ‘I’m glad you know, Trixie. I’m glad we can share it.’

‘You look better now you know the truth.’

‘I feel better. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel light.’ She kissed her daughter’s cheek. ‘Thank you, darling. But what of you?’

‘That’s what Jasper asked.’

‘And how did you respond?’

Trixie took another drag. ‘I told him I’d be fine. He has a wife, children, duties and responsibilities that come with his position.’ She laughed at herself. ‘To think it never occurred to me that he was a lord. I never worked it out. No wonder it amused him when I called him Mr Duncliffe.’

‘Darling, how could you have known?’

‘I don’t know. It seems so obvious now. Anyway, he asked me to stay, but he knew it was impossible. He never suggested he leave Lottie. I don’t think I’d hold him in such high esteem if he was capable of turning his back on his family like that. So I’m the loser. But I’ll bounce back.’

‘You will, darling.
I
did. We had you. We found happiness of sorts. I threw myself into the gardens I created. I discovered that the human spirit has a great capacity to heal and adapt. I haven’t been unhappy, Trixie. Yes, I have my memories and even though they make me a little sad, they bring me joy, too. I remember the good times with Freddie, before the war. He was adorable and very romantic. You can’t imagine, but he was playful and sweet. I hold onto those.’

‘So what’s with the lavender bag?’ Trixie asked.

‘I made it for Rufus, to help him sleep.’

‘It looks like he slept with it for years. It’s totally worn out.’

Grace smiled softly. ‘I think he did.’

‘And how are
you
, Mom? I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I need to know. I can’t bear to lose you too.’

Grace pulled her daughter close and ran a hand down her hair. ‘I’m a fighter, Trixie.’ She kissed her forehead. ‘After all, I have so much to fight for.’

As the day finally surrendered to the darkness, Grace and Trixie filled their glasses with more wine and Grace listened, transfixed, as Trixie told her about her brief vacation. She wanted to hear every detail. She wanted to know what Walbridge was like now. She wanted to hear about the Beekeeper’s Cottage, the Hall, the Fox and Goose, Lady Georgina and Lady Penselwood. And when she had heard all the stories, she wanted to hear them all over again.

By the time Freddie returned home, Grace was in bed. The excitement had exhausted her. ‘Hello, Trixie,’ he said, surprised to find his youngest daughter in Grace’s sitting room. ‘How are things in the Big Apple?’

‘Great, Dad, thanks. I thought I’d spend some time with Mom.’

‘I bet she was happy to see you.’

She grinned. ‘Very.’

Freddie hovered in the doorway, looking awkward. ‘Well, I’ll help myself to something from the fridge.’

‘Dad,’ said Trixie, getting up and walking across the room towards him.

‘Yes?’

‘I love you.’ She laughed at the astonished look on his face. ‘I know I sound like I’m going crazy. But I just wanted to tell you. I love you and appreciate everything you’ve done for me over the years. I often thought you too controlling, but now I know you had my best interests at heart. I wish I had known that then.’ She put her arms around him and felt him stiffen. Undeterred, she held him firmly. Slowly and barely perceptibly, he softened and patted her hard on the back. Harder than he had ever patted her before, and her throat contracted and her heart seemed to fold in on itself. She remained there for a long moment, her tears staining a dark patch on his shirt.

Trixie made her father pasta while he disappeared into his office to help himself to a drink. He returned with a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He asked her about New York, so she told him about her interview with Rifat Ozbek, omitting the fact that it had taken place in London. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her trip. She wasn’t sure he’d be as understanding as her mother. She remembered Lady Penselwood telling her that Freddie resented Rufus for having come out of the battle unscathed. He probably regretted having saved him. Bringing up his heroism now might undermine their moment in the sitting room. She hadn’t felt this close to him, ever. She wasn’t about to go and ruin it by bringing up his past.

Freddie felt a little lightheaded when he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He had drunk two whiskies and a glass of wine. Trixie had joined him at the dining-room table and they had both eaten the pasta she had made. She had asked him about his golf and questioned him about his first days on the farm just after the war. She had looked at him intensely and listened without interrupting. He was surprised she was interested. She had never been interested before.

He crept into the darkened room. He could see his wife in bed, peacefully sleeping. She had left the light on in the bathroom and he went in there to undress so as not to wake her. He showered and changed into his pyjamas. Then he switched off the light and climbed into bed, doing his best to slip in quietly, disturbing the mattress as little as possible. He lay there a moment, staring at the ceiling.

‘Freddie.’ It was Grace. Her voice was a sleepy whisper.

‘I thought you were asleep,’ he replied.

‘I was, but I’m awake now. Have you seen Trixie?’

‘Yes, a nice surprise to see her.’

‘Freddie?’ Her voice sounded heavy.

‘Yes?’

‘I need to talk to you and I need you to be honest with me.’

‘All right.’

‘Did you save Rufus’s life in the war?’

There was a long silence. A laboured, uncomfortable silence, as if the room were holding its breath and struggling with the effort. Grace waited. While she waited for his reply she felt the blood pulsate in her temples. She expected him to shut her out. She expected the air to turn cold with him. But it didn’t. ‘I took a bullet for him,’ Freddie said quietly. Grace was stunned by his openness. Perhaps the darkness, the whiskey or the fact that he knew she was dying gave him the courage to speak about it.

‘You were a hero. Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I wasn’t a hero.’

‘But you were. I mocked you when you cried about the bee sting, and your mother said that boys are courageous when it matters. She was right and I was wrong. You gave your eye in exchange for Rufus’s life. If that’s not heroic, nothing is.’

She felt him stiffen beside her. There was another long pause. The bed grew hot but she dared not move. ‘I loathed him,’ he said, and the tone of his voice sent a cold shiver rippling across her skin. ‘I knew you loved him, Grace. I received a letter from you that was meant for him.’ She let out a gasp. The bed seemed to be falling away beneath her. She spread her fingers over the sheets to steady it. ‘I didn’t jump to save him, Grace,’ he said. ‘I jumped to punch his lights out.’

They lay still beneath the weight of his confession. Grace didn’t know how to respond. She blinked into the darkness, sick to her stomach, not at the thought of his violent intent, but at the thought of his having suffered in silence all these years, knowing that she had loved another. She had assumed his coldness was due to the horror of war. She never imagined it was because of her. Now she understood and her heart swelled with compassion. War hadn’t changed him;
she
had. She moved her hand beneath the covers and found his. He gripped it hard, and the ferocity of it moved her to tears.