The Beekeeper's Daughter (36 page)

‘I don’t want to interrupt your lunch,’ Jasper began.

‘You haven’t. I was just rattling on. Really, we could have sat here all afternoon, couldn’t we, Trixie?’

‘Lunch is on me,’ said Jasper courteously.

‘That’s very kind of you, Lord Penselwood. Thank you.’ Joan got to her feet. ‘It’s been a pleasure talking to you, Trixie. How long are you staying?’

‘A couple of days.’

‘Well, I hope you enjoy them. The weather’s nice for you. Perhaps I’ll see you again.’

When she had gone, Jasper lowered his voice. ‘My God, Trixie. I can’t believe you’re here.’ It was then that she noticed a shadow of unhappiness behind his smile. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’

‘I didn’t know how.’

‘You could have written.’ His eyes searched hers for the girl he’d left on the beach. ‘You could have knocked.’

‘Jasper . . .’ She glanced about the room self-consciously.

He immediately understood her reticence. ‘Let’s go somewhere quiet,’ he suggested. Trixie watched him go to the bar to pay. He was wearing a pair of corduroy trousers and a pale-blue cashmere sweater beneath an old, moth-eaten tweed jacket. He looked every inch the country squire, she thought, and her heart buckled for the boy with the big dreams of being a rock star, sacrificed to duty and tradition. ‘Come,’ he said and she almost gave him her hand as she had done all those years ago on the beach in Tekanasset.

She followed him out into the sunshine. The lane was empty. They were alone. Without a word he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to his chest. She was sure he released a groan as he held her there for a long moment. She closed her eyes and swallowed back tears that suddenly surged in a tide of longing. ‘Oh, Trixie, I don’t know where to begin.’ He pulled away and smiled bitterly. ‘I have visualized this moment for years, but now it’s here I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. It’s enough just to see you,’ she replied.

‘No, it isn’t,’ he said gravely. ‘I owe you an explanation. Come, let’s go for a drive.’

His dusty Volvo estate was parked in the shade by the river. He opened the passenger door and she climbed in. She immediately smelt dog and on closer inspection saw white hairs all over the upholstery. ‘Where’s your dog?’ she asked as he climbed in beside her.

He grinned. ‘Bendico’s at home. I’m sorry his fur’s all over the seats.’

‘I don’t mind. Mum’s always had big dogs, remember?’

‘I remember everything,’ he said, and Trixie detected the wistfulness in his voice. He drove into the street. ‘I couldn’t believe my ears when Mother said Beatrix Valentine found Ralph in the woods and brought him back. I thought, “That can’t be
my
Beatrix Valentine, can it?” Were you going to leave without seeing me?’

‘I came to find out about my parents. I didn’t think you’d
want
to see me.’

He shook his head. ‘You have no idea, Trixie. Look at you. You’re the same.
Exactly
the same. It’s as if we’re young again. I wish to God we were. I wish we could turn the clock back. I’d do things so differently.’ He glanced at her and his grey-green eyes had darkened with sorrow. ‘Letting you go was the most foolish thing I’ve ever done in my life.’ Trixie was astonished that he should make that confession within five minutes of meeting, but he was right. It
did
feel like they were back on Tekanasset. He was as familiar to her now as he had been then and she almost reached out and put her hand on his arm to reassure him that she felt the same.

He seemed to regret his outburst. ‘I’m sorry, Trixie. I shouldn’t be burdening you with my troubles. I suppose you’re married . . . why ever did I assume you weren’t?’

‘I’m not married, Jasper,’ she replied softly.

‘Do you still live on Tekanasset?’

‘My parents do, but I moved to New York.’

He grinned. ‘Did you get to work for
Vogue
?’

‘Not quite
Vogue
, but I’m fashion editor for one of the big glossies.’

‘I knew you could be anything you wanted to be.’

‘Do you still play guitar?’

He shook his head. ‘I haven’t played since I left Tekanasset.’

Trixie was appalled. ‘You were so talented!’

‘I gave up all the things I loved.’ His face crumpled with guilt. ‘I gave
you
up, too.’

‘It’s OK. It was a long time ago.’ She turned her gaze to the window. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To the beach. I need a walk. I want to be alone with you where we can talk and catch up. I have so many questions.’

She knitted her fingers and kept her eyes on the road ahead, fighting the impulse to reach out and touch him.

Jasper drove down the narrow lanes until they reached a farm entrance. He turned off the road and motored up a muddy track. At the end he parked on the crest of the hill and switched off the engine. Before them the sparkling ocean spread out vast and wide as far as the eye could see. ‘What a beautiful view,’ Trixie sighed. ‘I didn’t know we were so close to the sea.’

‘Come, there’s a path down to the beach.’ He looked at her leather jacket and thin scarf. ‘Are you going to be warm enough?’

‘I’m fine,’ she replied. But he went round and opened the boot. ‘Here, put this on. It’ll be too big for you and it’s not very fashionable for a fashion editor, but it’ll stop you getting cold in the wind.’

She took the green coat he offered her. ‘What about you?’

He smiled playfully. ‘I’m a man,’ he said, putting on a gruff voice.

She laughed. ‘Even men get cold, Jasper.’

‘Not real ones!’

They walked down a narrow footpath that wound its way through rocks and long grass to the beach below. Only gulls flew in and out of that secluded stretch of sand. The tide had gone out, leaving small crustaceans for the birds to fight over, and the air was pierced every now and then by their indignant cries. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, Trixie,’ Jasper said suddenly. He took a deep breath and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘I never wanted to lead you on like that. I hoped . . .’

She cut him off. ‘It’s OK, Jasper. It’s water under the bridge. Really.’

‘Not for me, it isn’t. Regret isn’t something one can throw off so easily. It ate me up on the inside.’

‘It wasn’t meant to be,’ she told him, trying to be philosophical when she really wanted to throw herself against him and tell him how he had ruined love for her, because she hadn’t been able to love anyone else since.

‘I don’t believe in fate. We make our own lives,’ he argued. ‘We make mistakes and we live to regret them. If I’d married you, Trixie, I wouldn’t be standing here wishing I had done things differently. I wouldn’t be unhappy.’

She reached out and touched his arm. ‘Let’s walk,’ she suggested, turning away and allowing the wind to sweep away her tears.

They began to walk slowly, side by side, with the bracing wind at their backs. Jasper collected himself by standing tall with his shoulders back. The effort he made to control his feelings made Trixie want to cry all the more. ‘So tell me,’ he began. ‘What’s this about your parents living in Walbridge?’

‘They both grew up here,’ Trixie began. ‘They married in your little church and my dad worked on the farm and Mom was the beekeeper. She worked with your gardener, Mr Heath, during the war. Then they left for America.’

‘And you never knew?’

‘They never told me. They never spoke of their past. I’ve only just found out.’

‘How
did
you find out?’

She took a deep breath. ‘I found a box of love letters in my mother’s garden shed, addressed to her in Walbridge. They weren’t from Dad,’ she added gravely.

‘Oh, God. They were from another man.’

‘Yes. She had an affair at the beginning of the war.’

‘Do you know who with?’

She braced herself, not sure whether she was doing the right thing in telling him. ‘Your father,’ she replied.

Jasper stopped walking. ‘My father?’ He looked horror-struck.

‘Yes,’ she replied, hunching her shoulders defensively. ‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘There was only one Earl of Melville, right?’

He nodded. ‘Good God. Papa and your mother? What a twist of fate.’

‘I know, it was a shock for me, too.’

‘It’s extraordinary.’ He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. ‘I suppose one never really knows one’s parents.’

‘I’ve learned that the hard way,’ said Trixie.

‘How long did it go on for?’

‘About two years, I think. The letters are very sweet. If they weren’t to my mother from her lover I’d find them really romantic’

‘When did it end?’

‘It’s unclear. But he stops writing to her at the end of 1942. Her last letter is dated March 1943. I know that because he returned all her letters after the war.’

‘Why did he do that?’

‘My father saved your father’s life in Africa, according to your mother. I assume he realized he couldn’t cuckold a man who had taken a bullet for him, so he did the right thing. He ended it. To be honest, I don’t think my mother’s ever got over it.’

‘Did she tell you?’

‘No, I’m not even sure my father knows. Mom certainly doesn’t know that I know. I read her letters by chance. She doesn’t even know I’m here.’

‘So, you came to Walbridge in search of your parents’ past?’

‘Yes,’ she replied. But as the word came out she realized that, in truth, she had come here in search of Jasper.

They walked on in silence, Jasper absorbing the revelation of his father’s affair, Trixie recognizing at last that the Jasper-shaped hole in her heart could only ever be filled by him, and no one else. The wind slipped between them and the distance could have been as wide as a canyon for the sudden loneliness that engulfed her, and the realization that she would always be alone.

‘Jasper, Mom’s got cancer,’ she said, giving in to the need to share. Yielding to the need to be comforted.

‘Oh, Trixie, I’m so sorry.’

The sympathy in his voice brought tears to her eyes again. ‘I don’t think she’s got long. That’s why I wanted to find out why your father returned her letters and what happened to him. Her final letters to him, begging for reassurance that he was still alive and still loving her, are desperate.’

He took her hand in his large rough one as if it belonged there. ‘You’re not OK, are you?’

‘Not really.’ She felt immediately soothed by the warmth of his hand. ‘But I’ll be fine. I’ll get through this.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, I’ve only recently discovered my mother again after years of living in New York. She’s my best friend. We share so much. Until I discovered the letters, I didn’t realize just
how
much.’

‘Do you think your parents knew who I was?’ Jasper asked.

‘Yes, and they weren’t happy about it. I remember they said people like you always marry your own sort and that you wouldn’t honour your promise. Mom knew more than I realized.’

‘Papa gave nothing away, but that’s no surprise. An affair isn’t something one shouts about, is it? I doubt Mother knew. They had a good marriage, as far as I recall.’

‘I’m certain your mother never knew. She’d hardly have been so welcoming to me had she known. She told me how grateful she was that Dad took that bullet and saved Rufus’s life. I don’t think she’d have been so thankful had she known about those letters.’

Jasper chuckled. ‘How did you introduce yourself?’

‘Beatrix. Would Trixie have given me away?’

‘Absolutely. She was adamant that I shouldn’t marry you. She wouldn’t have recognized the name Beatrix, but she would have jumped at the name Trixie.’

‘How lucky, then, that I chose to be formal. She’s a formal-looking woman, isn’t she?’

‘She’s made of steel.’ He sighed bitterly. ‘In the end I caved. I thought she was probably right. You’d have hated this life. You’re a free spirit, not a lady of the manor labouring under good works and duty.’

Trixie stopped walking and gazed up at him in frustration. ‘Then what are you, if not a free spirit? You should be wandering the globe with your voice and your guitar, not stuck here in corduroy and tweed, running a grand estate.’

‘It was my duty.’

‘What is this word “duty”? Duty to what? To a pile of old bricks? You’re a man of flesh and blood, Jasper, and one day you’re not going to be around any more. You have to live for yourself, too.’

He groaned, as if he laboured under the impossible burden of family and responsibility. ‘I have three children and a wife. I have tied myself to Walbridge. I am committed and for the life of me I can’t imagine how I can ever leave.’

A spark of hope ignited in Trixie’s heart. ‘You want to leave?’

‘I’m miserable, Trixie. I was in a dark place before you arrived to shine a beacon of hope. You’re like a lighthouse I can see in the distance but can’t get to. You’ve always been there, far away, shining through the gloom, and as hard as I paddle I just can’t reach you.’

With that he bent down and kissed her ardently, as he had done in Tekanasset when they were young and free and bursting with ambition. Trixie responded urgently, and the years that had dragged by in loneliness and longing evaporated like a dream. She wound her arms around his neck, inhaled the familiar scent of him and knew then what her mother had also known, that love isn’t something that wears out or disintegrates with the passing of the years, but something that glows forever like an eternal sun.

Chapter 25

Jasper pulled away. He cupped Trixie’s face in his hands and gazed lovingly at her features, as if he were slowly remembering the kisses and caresses shared on those windy Tekanasset beaches. His expression had softened. Gone was the tension in his jaw and the strain on his forehead, and his eyes were no longer dark with unhappiness but bright, reflecting the light in hers – the lighthouse he had reached at last.

‘What a fool I was to let you go,’ he murmured, smiling with joy now that they were miraculously reunited.

She placed her hands on top of his and returned his smile. ‘I never stopped loving you, Jasper.’

‘Really? Do you mean that?’