by Jenny Frame
Evan heard the sound of heels on concrete and quickly turned off her audiobook. Clementine opened the car door, slipped in, slammed the door shut, and sighed.
“How did it go?” Evan asked, although she could sense it hadn’t gone well.
“They already had an architect on staff, but they wanted me to quote-unquote work together”—Clementine put air quotes around the phrase—“with him on the new residential building, so they could use my name. Designed by the Duchess of Rosebrook, granddaughter of the famous Isadora Fitzroy.”
“I’m sorry.” Evan felt so bad for her. It was another kick in the teeth.
“I can’t even make a name for myself, for my own skills. I mean, who cares about titles any more? The world has moved on, and yet this dukedom is hanging around my neck, strangling me.”
Evan had to choose her words wisely and didn’t want to turn Clementine off from her even more. Perhaps a change of subject, change of scenery.
“Why don’t we go and have an ice cream on the beach? It’s just a few minutes away.”
Clementine looked at her like she was insane. “An ice cream?”
“Yes, it’s a gorgeous summer’s day. Come on?”
“I’d just like to go home,” Clementine said firmly.
Evan tutted and shook her head, pretending to be annoyed. “Well, I think you owe me one for driving you here.”
Clementine gave her an annoyed look. “I thought you just wanted to help—that’s what you told me.”
“I changed my mind. Come on, it’ll be fun.” Evan covered Clementine’s hand with hers briefly, before starting the car and setting off to find a car parking space near the beach.
Evan found a space and got out of the car. She went to the boot of the car and got out the drawstring bag she used for litter. Clementine arrived at her side and looked quizzically at the two bigger bags in the boot.
“One’s for plastic and one for bottles and cans,” Evan said.
“You had that bag on the beach—do you take it everywhere?” Clementine asked.
“I try to. My mum has had me doing this since I was a little kid. It’s just ingrained in me now.” Evan took off her jacket and rolled up her shirtsleeves. “It’s a scorcher today. Sometimes it’s hard to maintain my dapper look in hot weather.”
She checked her hair in the car mirror and heard Clementine say in a sarcastic voice, “I’m sure.”
As usual Evan didn’t respond to that negativity. She straightened her bow tie and then offered her arm to Clementine. “Shall we, Your Graceship?”
Clementine looked surprised, unsure at the offer, and wonderfully for Evan, she took her arm. Yes! If Clementine was Mrs. Fox, then she would look back on this as the first time Clementine trusted her.
“Let’s get some ice cream.”
They walked down to the large wooden pier at Bournemouth beach, getting looks from passers-by. Evan knew she was the one drawing the looks, for despite how much society had changed, a woman in a traditional male suit and tie—or bow tie—was still unusual.
She leaned over to Clementine and said, “I don’t think they’ve ever seen a woman in such a jaunty fox bow tie.”
Clementine actually smiled. It was a small blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile, but a smile all the same. Evan, buoyed by that, walked up to the ice-cream booth. She asked the seller, “Do you sell vegan ice-cream?”
The girl behind the counter looked at her like she had horns.
“No,” she said flatly.
“Oh, well, one large 99, with sauce, and one um…” Evan studied the menu. “An orange Calippo.”
When the server went to get their items, Evan said, “Do you ever wonder why an ice cream with a Flake is called a 99?”
“I’ve never thought about it too deeply. What is a Calippo?”
Evan feigned shock. “You’ve never had a Calippo? You’ve never lived, Your Majesty. It’s a large orange ice pole kind of thing. Delish.”
Once they had their items, they walked along the beach wall, Evan picking up some stray litter as they went. The beach was busy with people, since it was a hot summer’s day.
“You’re a vegan? Is that for environmental reasons?” Clementine asked.
“Yes, I was brought up vegan. I think that worried a few of your farmers,” Evan said.
“I can imagine.”
Evan pointed down at the wall and said, “Will we take a seat?”
“I’m wearing a skirt,” Clementine said.
“Oh, come on, it won’t fly off. Sit with me. Here, I’ll hold your ice cream.”
Clementine sighed as she sat down carefully and took her ice cream from Evan. “Why am I sitting on a beach wall eating ice cream?”
Evan plonked down beside her. “Because you owe me one.”
The idea of owing a debt to anyone, especially the woman who had taken over her ancestral home, was abhorrent to her.
“If I’d known there was a debt involved, I would never have taken your offer of a lift,” Clementine said.
“I’ve hardly demanded your firstborn, have I? I just wanted to cheer you up after your interview.”
Clementine said nothing and they both looked out to sea. There were sailboats in the distance and a ferry crossing the water. She had to admit that she was starting to let go of some of her annoyance and anger.
Out of nowhere, Evan said, “It’s nothing like Rosebrook beach, is it?”
It wasn’t. Nowhere gave Clementine the calm contented feeling of sitting on the beach there. She turned to look at Evan, who was eating her large orange ice pole, and kicking her feet against the beach wall. She couldn’t have looked less like a CEO of a large company.
“Do you enjoy what you do, Evan?” Clementine asked. “I mean the toy business.”
A big grin erupted over her face. “Absolutely, it’s my life. Why do you ask?”
“You don’t seem like the typical CEO, that’s all,” Clementine said.
“I hope not. Toys are in my blood. My dad and grandpa gave me that love, but it’s not really about toys. Toys are just lumps of plastic or stuffed pieces of material, but they fuel the imaginations and dreams of children. That’s the part that I love most.”
Clementine was quite taken aback at Evan’s answer and how animated she looked. Her eyes matched her beautiful smile and almost danced with excitement. Clementine felt her heart speed up and her skin bristle with excitement. Collywobbles again.
Clementine cleared her throat. “You sound passionate about it. Are you as passionate about the environment, or is that just a hobby?”
Clementine wanted to gauge how seriously Evan took this village project.
“You can have more than one passion in your life, but yes. My dad gave me my passion for toys, and my mum gave me my passion for the environment. She belongs to environmental and feminist activist groups. That’s how she met my dad, actually.”
“Really, how?” Clementine licked her ice cream, becoming drawn in to Evan’s conversation. It was hard to keep up that distance she was trying to, when Evan was so engaging.
“Well, her activist group staged a sit-in at Fox Toys headquarters, and my grandpa, who was still running the company then, sent my dad down to negotiate with them.”
“What were they protesting about?” Clementine asked.
“It was a new toy playset we’d brought out in blue for boys, and pink for girls, and the figures were totally gender stereotyped. My dad says when he saw my mum, it was like he had been hit about the head with a banjo.” Evan looked at her softly, then finished, “He knew there and then that she was meant to be his wife.”
Clementine had become a bit lost in Evan’s eyes as she told that story and snapped out of it when she felt the cold of the ice cream hit her hand.
“Oh no, it’s melting.” Clementine rummaged in her bag and found a handkerchief to wipe her hand. “So what happened about the sexist toy?”
Evan grinned. “Discontinued. My mum re-educated my dad and the company on ge
nder and environmental issues.”
“Did she stop protesting?” Clementine asked.
“No way, she was arrested only last year for boarding an oil drilling vessel,” Evan said proudly.
“Gosh, what happened?”
“She got community service, ironically litter picking. Something she had been doing and teaching me to do.”
Clementine laughed and then caught herself. She had actually laughed and forgot about her disastrous interview and her troubles at home. That hadn’t happened before. Clementine felt she had been born stressed. It’s all she could remember from her childhood. But now her money troubles, work troubles, and her mother were forgotten all by sitting on a beach wall, eating ice cream, and talking to Evan.
Evan continued, “My mum is my hero, and my dad adores her.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She is. Mum taught me to respect women, and to reinforce how wonderful they were, any time I could, but then that’s no hardship, since I love women. Women are wonderful.”
Was that why the compliments flew easily from Evan’s mouth? Maybe she wasn’t this conceited lady’s woman she had thought her to be?
Evan then said suddenly, “Will you come to the meeting at Fergus’s house tomorrow?”
Clementine was totally taken off guard. “What? Is that what this is all about?”
Evan recoiled and frowned. “Do you really think I would do that? I wanted to help you, but I would take it as a great personal favour if you would come.”
“Why are you so intent on me hearing your plans? It’s your village.” Just saying that made Clementine sad.
“But it’s not. The hearts and minds of the village still look to you. As I said, your farmers, Mr. and Mrs. Murdoch and Mr. Mason, didn’t take to my plans quite as enthusiastically as the others. I admit my first meeting with the village, and you, I was in bull in a china shop mode, but I want to change my focus, think about things from the village point of view.”
Clementine’s resolve not to get involved was weakening.
“Just one meeting,” Evan said, “and I’ll not mention it again.”
She sighed. “Okay, one meeting.”
“Yes!” Evan said. “You won’t regret this.”
They finished their treats and started to walk back to the car. While they did, Evan said, “You know about my passions, my dreams now. Is being an architect your dream?”
“I don’t have any dreams,” Clementine said flatly.
That’s what she told herself and anyone who asked, but that wasn’t quite true, if she was honest with herself. Her dream was to be the mistress of Rosebrook House, and to make the village live again, but that was never going to happen, so why dream?
Chapter Nine
The next day was a busy one for Clementine. Kay’s husband Casper came to look at her car but told her it needed to go into the mechanic’s, so he lent her the family’s second car, until Clementine could work out what to do.
She drove to visit her mother after lunchtime and read to her for a while. The room was calm for a change, and quiet, apart from Clementine’s voice. As she read, Clementine stroked her mother’s brow. She thought about how many times her mother had done this for her, and now the tables were turned.
She finished reading the psalm and kissed Marianne’s head. Her thoughts drifted to Evan. Evan hadn’t been far from her thoughts last night, either. How yesterday had surprised her. Either Evan was putting on an Oscar-winning performance, or she was genuine.
Not only genuine but like no one she had ever met. Her youthful exuberance was obviously infectious because Clementine couldn’t remember the last time her problems were not at the forefront of her mind, but yesterday, sitting on the beach wall with an ice cream, her problems were a million miles away.
When Clementine got home she took to the internet to find out everything she could about Evan. She was surprised to find out that she was twenty-eight. She would have guessed much younger—still, at thirty-six, way too young for her.
Huh?
She shook herself of the thought and saw her mother looking up at her. Her eyes were clearer, less troubled.
“What’s happening in the village?” her mother asked.
Her mother did have periods of lucidity sometimes, and Clementine treasured those. She kept stroking her mother tenderly and said, “We have a newcomer to the village, Evan Fox. She took me to Bournemouth beach yesterday.”
“We need newcomers to the village. Where is she staying?” Marianne asked.
Clementine couldn’t tell her she had bought Rosebrook, because in her mother’s mind they still lived there.
“One of the cottages.” Clementine told a white lie.
“Is she nice?”
Clementine smiled. “Yes, she bought me an ice cream.”
“You should bring her home to play one day.”
There it was—her mother’s mind stuck firmly in her childhood. “I’m seeing her tonight, actually.” The thought gave Clementine a buzz of excitement. That was new, since she had met Evan.
“Bring her up to the house. I’d like to meet her.”
“I will, Mummy.”
* * *
Later that evening Clementine was standing at the mirror in the hallway, fixing her make-up. Tonight she had picked a floaty summer dress to wear instead of jeans.
She looked at herself in the mirror and said, “Why are you doing this? You don’t need to impress Evan. She’s too young, she has your house and land, and you have too much going on in your life for complications.” And Evan would be a big complication.
And yet, despite all this, Clementine had that excited feeling and it was growing. She heard the door knocker and quickly put away her make-up. Her heart was racing and she chastised herself for it.
“Just be a minute,” Clementine shouted towards the door.
She hurriedly put her things away, then opened the door, ready to apologize for keeping Evan waiting, but Evan jumped in first.
“Wow, you look absolutely wonderful, Clem. What a lucky woman I am to have your company.”
Clementine didn’t really hear what Evan was saying. She was too fixated on Evan’s clothes. “What on God’s green earth are you wearing?”
Evan smiled and looked down at her outfit. “You like it? My tailor made a selection of suits fit for the country. What do you think?”
Evan was wearing a tweed shooting jacket and hunting breeks, with heavy woollen socks up to her knees, each adorned with a huge red tassel. Brown leather shoes, checked shirt, wool tie, and flat cap. All that was missing was a shotgun in the crook of her arm.
Clementine hadn’t seen anyone wearing an outfit like that, here at Rosebrook, since her grandmother’s day.
“You’re not saying anything, Clem.” Evan brushed some fluff from her jacket. “It is authentic, isn’t it?”
Clementine could hardly contain her smile and laughter. “No, it’s very authentic…” She muffled a laugh. “It looks like you’ve just come off the set of a period drama.”
“I can see you want to laugh,” Evan said, giving her a playful look.
Clementine covered her mouth to stop the laughter. “No, no, you look…unique.”
Evan appeared to take that in good spirits. She held out her arms. “I live to be unique and cut a dandy, dapper dash. Anyway, it’s fun for a pleb like me to play at being the classic English gent. Shall we?”
Clementine shook her head, still smiling, and locked the door. No one had made her laugh so much in years. Evan offered her arm and Clementine took it.
“You’re not a pleb. You’re an extremely successful businesswoman.”
“Money doesn’t buy you class—you were born with it.”
“Oh, please,” Clementine said, as they walked along the road to Fergus’s house. “What’s my second name, Evan?”
“Fitzroy,” Evan replied.
“Do you know what that means?”
“The fitz means something—it�
�s on the tip of my tongue. Tell me,” Evan said as she gazed down their entwined arms. This was so nice. Clem wasn’t scowling. She had actually made her laugh, and she loved doing it.
“Fitz means born out of wedlock, so Fitzroy is a bastard child of a king. King Charles II, in fact.”
“Who was?” Evan asked.
“The first Duke of Rosebrook. His mother was mistress to King Charles II for many years, and the King was his father. Like all of King Charles II’s out of wedlock children, he got a title, a lofty title. So we didn’t have high-class beginnings.”
“Amazing! What was his mother like?” Evan asked.
Clementine furrowed her eyebrows. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah, it’s so interesting. I focused on Isadora when I wrote an essay about her and Rosebrook, but I didn’t go that far back in your family’s history.”
“Well, she was a formidable woman. Maria Warwick. She was born of poor farming stock, went to London, and became a dancer and entertainer. She caught the King’s eye at a performance and became his mistress, a position she guarded jealously. The King had many mistresses, but Maria lasted the longest.”
Evan nodded her head. “From poor farmer’s daughter to King’s mistress and the founder of a dynasty in a generation.”
“Yes, that fear of being poor drove her, I think. I wouldn’t be duchess if it wasn’t for her too. My second cousin would have gotten it.”
“How so?” Evan asked.
“After the first duke died as a young boy, there was no male heir—she’d had three daughters by the King after that. Knowing her position was dependent on having a child with a rich estate, she persuaded the King to change the writ to allow females to inherit. There are very few titles in England that go through the female line, mostly the older ones.”
Evan was astounded by Clementine’s knowledge and loved the way her whole being came to life while talking about it. That was Clementine’s passion, no matter how much she tried to hide it. Rosebrook was everything to her—Evan was sure of it.
“That is so interesting.”
They walked along in silence for a minute or so, the only sounds of the early evening the birds chattering in the trees. It was idyllic, and Evan felt so much more relaxed here than in London.
