The Beekeeper's Daughter (37 page)

‘I do.’ She shrugged. ‘I tried to move on, but no one compared to you.’

‘Oh, Trixie,’ he groaned. ‘If I’d known then what I know now I would never have listened to my mother. I’d have believed my own heart.’

‘I never imagined you’d be unhappy.’

‘Lottie is not a bad person. We’re just ill suited. On paper we were well matched because we had grown up together. Our parents were great friends and she was bred to run a big estate. But in reality she would have been better off marrying my brother. Like Edward, she hasn’t an artistic bone in her body and loves horses more than people. The truth is, Mama persuaded me that I needed her – and I did need her, in the beginning. She took over the running of the place, and as Marchioness of Penselwood she was without fault, but as my wife she was desperately lacking. We never loved each other, you see. I didn’t think it mattered. I thought we would be a team. I believed we’d be great friends. But we’re not even friends any more.’ He squeezed her hands. ‘I’ve lost myself over the years, Trixie. I’ve become someone else entirely. I look into your eyes and see the reflection of the boy I once was. I see the man I thought I’d become. But instead I’ve become this conventional old bore.’ He withdrew his hands and turned to face the sea. The wind swept his hair off his forehead, revealing the disenchantment in his profile. ‘I’ve become my father. He became his. There’s no way of breaking the pattern destiny imposes on us all.’

Trixie laughed softly at his self-indulgence. ‘Of course you can break the pattern. You can be whoever you want to be, Jasper.’

‘No, I can’t. I have duties and responsibilities as Marquess of Penselwood.’

‘It’s a name and a position, but it doesn’t prevent you from being the person you want to be. You could start playing the guitar again.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Jasper,’ she exclaimed, ‘you’re not a puppet on a string. You are your own person. Get your guitar out and write a song. If you’re miserable it’ll be the best song you’ve ever written!’

He smiled at her efforts to cajole him out of his melancholy and took her hand. ‘You’re right. I’ve allowed myself to wallow in self-pity.’ He led her back down the beach towards the path that snaked up the cliff. ‘I wanted to fulfil my duty, Trixie. I wanted to make my mother proud. I was aware I was less qualified than Edward, who had studied at agricultural college, worked here with Papa and consequently knew how to manage a big estate. No one thought I could do it. I was the wild card. I wanted to prove everyone wrong. I wanted to do it right.’ He glanced at her, and his eyes smouldered with regret. ‘Pride,’ he stated resentfully. ‘It was pride that motivated me. Pride that inspired me to marry Lottie. Pride that made me give up the one person I really loved.’

‘Lottie has given you children. Don’t regret your marriage. You have a family. That counts for a lot.’

‘But
you
!’ He gripped her hand. ‘I’ve denied
you
a family. God, how I wish it were you in Lottie’s place . . .’

‘I’m not bitter, Jasper. I’ve had a fascinating working life. I’ve had opportunities, too, to settle down. If I really wanted children, I could have married and raised a family. I chose not to.
My
choice, not yours. No one forced me to live like this. I’ve actually enjoyed my life. I didn’t want to settle for second best. If I couldn’t have you, I didn’t want anybody else. That’s the truth, but it doesn’t mean I’ve been living a life of denial. I haven’t. I’ve had good times.’

‘I wish I had been part of those good times.’

‘I wish you had been, too. I think my mother has pined for your father for years; that’s why she kept the letters in a secret box in the garden shed. That’s why she collapsed in tears when I told her he had died. I realize that now. The past is beginning to make sense. I think her longing for Rufus has damaged her marriage,’ she reflected wistfully. ‘I used to think Dad was unfairly remote and unaffectionate.

Now I wonder whether he didn’t feel remoteness and coldness from
her
. It’s not healthy to pine, Jasper. If Mom has taught me anything, she’s taught me that. We have to let the past go and live in the moment, otherwise we don’t live, we just dream.’

‘I can let the past go now you’re here,’ he said with a grin.

‘That’s cheating.’

‘I don’t care.’ He swung her round to kiss her again. ‘I’m living in the moment now and it’s good enough for me.’

A while later they drove back towards Walbridge. The light was fading, with dark clouds gathering above them, greedily eating the last remains of pale blue sky. ‘I want to see you tomorrow,’ Jasper said seriously.

‘I don’t know . . .’ Trixie hesitated.

‘You can’t go back to New York now!’ he exclaimed. She knew he was right. Everything had changed. She couldn’t leave and pretend that things were as before.

‘I don’t know what to do.’ She gazed helplessly at the darkening sky.

‘I’ll take you to meet my grandmother,’ he suggested. ‘She might be able to shed some light on Papa’s affair with your mother. Although we’ll have to tread carefully; she’s a different generation. I’ll pick you up in the morning.’

She looked at him anxiously. ‘Is this wise, Jasper?’

‘You said you wanted to know why Papa returned her letters.’

‘I
know
why. It was a matter of honour. Soldier to soldier. That makes sense.’

‘I still think you should talk to Grandma. She might know something more.’ He glanced back at her and she noticed the panic in his eyes. ‘I want to see you again, Trixie. You can’t leave . . .’

She took his hand across the gearbox. ‘OK. I’ll come and meet your grandmother.’

His shoulders dropped. ‘Good. I’ll pick you up at nine. Is that OK for you?’

‘That’s OK. What will you tell Lottie?’

‘I’ll tell her the truth. That I met an old friend and am taking her to see Grandma. She’ll think nothing of it.’

‘I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.’

‘That means we have a day all to ourselves.’

Trixie felt her throat constrict. ‘One day,’ she said.

‘One day? Two days? You don’t have to leave.’

She shook her head. ‘I have a life to get back to, Jasper.’

He gripped the steering wheel. ‘I’ll pick you up at nine.’

Trixie couldn’t face dinner in the pub, talking to Robert, so she found a small Italian restaurant on the high street and ate there at a table by the window. It had started to drizzle. She watched the raindrops slide down the glass in wiggly trails. Occasionally the bright lights of a car turned them to gold. She ate her pizza half-heartedly. Seeing Jasper had given her a high, like a sniff of the drugs she used to take, and now she felt the pain of withdrawal. Was the thrill of his kiss worth the agony of knowing it couldn’t last? She had got used to being on her own, but Jasper had reminded her of what it felt like to be in the arms of the man she loved. The comparison only emphasized the hollowness of the many relationships she had had over the years. The life she had lived was reduced to a sham and she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to it. A small part of her wished she had never come, because what had been acceptable before was now intolerable in the light of their reunion. Nothing would ever be the same again, because the same wasn’t good enough.

She drained her glass of Pinot Grigio and paid the bill. Hugging her coat around her, she walked back up the high street towards the lane that led to the inn and the river beyond. She should leave, she thought, before she got in too deep. Before it became too hard to extricate herself. She didn’t want to break up his family. However miserable he was with his wife, she didn’t want that on her conscience. In which case, there was no point in staying. She couldn’t have Jasper. They could never be together. Seeing him had only reminded her of what she lacked. She’d return to her life in New York and try to get over him, just as she had done nearly two decades before. Having climbed to the summit of an emotional mountain, she had slid right back to the bottom. How would she even manage the first few steps?

She returned to the Fox and Goose and crept up the stairs to her room without being seen. She didn’t feel like talking to Maeve or Robert. She didn’t feel like talking at all. As she climbed into bed and switched out the light she thought of Grace, and her heart flooded with compassion. If her mother had pined for Rufus as she was now pining for Jasper she must have suffered indeed.

Loneliness engulfed her and she gave in to the longing and the unbearable sense of defeat. Hugging her pillow, she cried for herself and for her mother, realizing that, because she had been so fixated on herself, she didn’t really know Grace, the woman, at all.

The following morning she awoke with a nervous feeling in her stomach. She knew she should leave before Jasper arrived at nine, but as much as she knew what was right, she was unable to comply. Her heart eclipsed her head and she was powerless. Instead of packing her suitcase, she applied some make-up and allowed the anticipation to smother her doubt.

She took her breakfast in the little dining room, where Maeve brought her coffee and toast. She was almost too anxious to eat. ‘So, are you having a nice stay, dear?’ Maeve asked. ‘Shame about the weather. Yesterday was lovely but we’re paying for it today.’

‘Yes, thank you. I’m having a very nice time,’ Trixie replied blandly, not wanting to engage the woman in conversation.

‘I hope Joan was able to enlighten you on your relations. She’s a lovely woman, Joan.’

‘Yes, she was very interesting.’

Maeve leaned on the back of the chair as if she intended to be there a while. ‘She’s worked for Lady P. for years. They’re more like mother and daughter than employer and employee. She’s having a terrible time at the moment, though, poor dear. Lady P. is intent on arranging her own funeral. Well, I suppose at her age it could come at any time, couldn’t it? Joan doesn’t want to think about that. She’s very fond of the old lady.’

‘It does sound rather morbid arranging her own funeral. I don’t really want to think about death.’

‘That’s what Lady Georgina says. The poor vicar is caught between Lady P. bombarding him with ideas for music and readings and Lady Georgina insisting that he ignore her because she’s clearly going mad! Yes, Lady Georgina thinks her mother-in-law is a few sandwiches short of a picnic!’ Maeve laughed heartily. ‘Do you know what I think?’

‘What do you think?’ Trixie sipped her coffee, not in the least interested in Maeve’s opinion.

‘I think Lady P. is preparing her final attack.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, from what I gather, she’s choosing a rather unconventional funeral, which would certainly rile Lady Georgina, who is very traditional. It would be a final insult from beyond the grave for Lady Georgina to have to suffer a gospel choir . . .’

‘A gospel choir?’
That
had caught Trixie’s interest.

‘Oh yes, Lady P. wants a black gospel choir.’

‘That’s quite radical.’

‘It certainly is. I’m not sure she’ll get her way. Once she’s dead Lady Georgina will do as she wishes. She’s a strong woman. I can’t imagine the poor vicar will be able to stand up to her.’

‘What a drama.’

‘Oh yes, indeed. There’s always a drama of some sort going on here in Walbridge. It’s never dull, otherwise I would have left years ago. Who wants to live in a small place if there’s no entertainment?’ She chuckled. ‘There’s plenty of entertainment here.’

Robert poked his head round the door. ‘Morning, Trixie,’ he said, smiling broadly. Trixie smiled back and stifled an irritable sigh. It didn’t look as if she was going to get any peace. ‘Lord Penselwood is in the pub.’

‘Oh,’ she replied, perking up. ‘I’ll come right away. Thank you.’ She put her napkin on the table and stood up.

‘Mother enjoyed meeting you yesterday,’ he said.

‘I might see her today. Jasper is going to introduce me to his grandmother.’ She regretted the need to explain and hoped it hadn’t exposed her guilty conscience.

‘Did you have a good day yesterday?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘You found the Beekeeper’s Cottage?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Robin?’

‘Yes, we had a long chat.’

‘Good.’ He hesitated a moment. ‘If you’d like a guided tour, I’m free this afternoon.’

‘Thank you, Robert. That’s sweet of you to offer. I’ll let you know.’

‘I get off at two,’ he informed her eagerly.

She nodded and slipped past him into the corridor. ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ she replied and immediately forgot all about it.

Jasper greeted her cordially and showed her out to the car. She noticed his guitar on the back seat. ‘Ah, your music!’ she said, climbing into the passenger seat.

‘I’ve taken your advice,’ he replied. She noticed how raffish he looked with his hair swept off his face. He wore jeans and a thick green sweater which emphasized the grey-green colour of his eyes. Once in the car he leaned over and slid his hand behind her neck and pressed his lips to hers. She smelt his lime aftershave and the familiar scent of his skin; that alone had the power to peel back the years. As he kissed her all her doubts melted away and the golden light of endless possibilities shone bright and alluring, lifting her high above the ground. Suddenly nothing mattered but today.

He drove through the town. ‘I’ve told Grandma we’re coming. She sounded very excited when I told her you’re Grace Valentine’s daughter. She says she remembers Grace with fondness.’

‘That’s so sweet,’ Trixie replied. ‘I’m sure they didn’t have a great deal to do with one another, my mother being an employee and all.’

‘I think you’ll be surprised. My grandmother is famous for treating everyone as an equal. Not like my mother!’

‘Your mother is quite formidable.’

‘She’s a terrible snob, I’m afraid. I hate to say it . . .’

‘. . . but you’re going to anyway,’ she laughed.

He smiled. ‘Yes, I’m going to say it anyway. She’s insecure, frightened of anything that’s not familiar, so she clings to the way things were without realizing that times have changed. She’s stuck in another world and digging her heels in, determined not to change. To her, the aristocracy still rule the world.’