Past Perfect

by Danielle Steel

  Augusta was pleased with her first great-grandchild. Bettina had chosen “Augusta” as Lili’s middle name to pay homage to her, and her grandmother was flattered.

  “Shame it wasn’t a boy,” Angus had said regretfully, when told of the baby’s arrival, but on the whole it was a happy time, and Gwyneth was enjoying her grandchild. She had stopped her computer sessions when the baby was born, so she could help Bettina adjust to motherhood, which didn’t seem to come naturally to her, and she was outspoken about not wanting more children. Gwyneth told Sybil she’d be back on the computer soon, once Bettina was up again in about a month.

  It seemed like forever to Bettina before she was allowed to come downstairs for dinner. She had been permitted to walk around the garden with the nurse a few days before, and she had admitted to Sybil with a grin that she wanted to leap over the wall and run away. She felt like she was in jail in her room with the baby. Lili was four weeks old by then, and Bettina was finally released. It had been a long convalescence for a healthy young girl her age, after a natural event. She had almost regained her figure by then, and wasn’t nursing. They had hired a wet nurse a few days after the baby was born, and Lili was fat and healthy, and had just produced her first real smile. And so did her mother as soon as the doctor pronounced her free and she was allowed to leave her room.

  She still had trouble feeling close to the baby, and Sybil wondered if it would have been different if she had nursed, but she had been adamant about not wanting to. She wanted her body back now, and her life. She and Lili would be linked forever, but she showed no signs of being maternal and was perfectly content to let the nurse and wet nurse tend to all of Lili’s needs. The last ten months had been too traumatic, and she wanted to get back on her feet.

  The first time Bettina rejoined the family for dinner, Caroline announced that she had been accepted at UCLA and would be going to college there in the fall. She had been wait-listed at Stanford, but was satisfied with her second choice. Andy was already back in Edinburgh after the Christmas break. He was dating a girl there, and Sybil had the feeling it was serious, or could be. Caroline was still seeing the same boy at school, but he had been accepted at Princeton and was going east, so they had agreed to break up in June.

  Blake was looking strained. They had some financial issues at the start-up, with the founders losing a great deal of money with some high-risk decisions that had gone badly. He was discussing them intently with Bert, who always gave him good advice. And he had made Sybil aware of it too.

  And for the Butterfields, there was still a war on. They no longer had a son in it, but the news from the front was devastating, and the boys were dying like flies in the trenches. Things were going better for the Germans than the Allies. There were gold star banners in the windows of homes all around the city, and across the country, indicating sons who had died. America had been in the war for only nine months, but the death toll was alarmingly high, and it showed no sign of being over yet. And stories of the revolution in Russia were depressing too.

  But the mood at the Butterfield Mansion was lighter with Bettina back in their midst, the baby to admire, and Josiah home. Sybil was working on her book again, and hoping to finish it by the end of the year. She kept adding more material to it, and Blake called it the never-ending book. Gwyneth returned to Sybil’s office to create art on the computer. The two women worked side by side for many hours in companionable silence, with an occasional smile or comment.

  Sybil was sorry Gwyneth couldn’t show anyone her art, Gwyneth was still keeping it a secret from Bert and didn’t think he’d approve. And Sybil didn’t disagree with her. She was not only challenging the time barrier, but defying the social rules of her world and class, by trying to be a modern woman, which was forbidden to her. Sybil often chafed for her more than Gwyneth did, but it bothered Gwyneth too, to be so restricted from the natural order of things, in a world run entirely by men.

  —

  That summer the Gregorys rented a house in Santa Barbara for a month, instead of the one they used to rent in the Hamptons when they lived in New York. It was fun to do something different, and have a change of scene. The summer before, their first in San Francisco, Josiah had been killed and they hadn’t wanted to abandon the Butterfields, and canceled their vacation, but this year things were peaceful. The Butterfields were going to Woodside, and Bettina was taking the baby and the nurse with them. Lili was six months old in July, and a happy, easy baby.

  Caroline had broken up with her boyfriend in June as they had agreed to do. She had been ready to let him go by then anyway. She met someone new while they were in Santa Barbara, he was going to UCLA in the fall too. He came to dinner at the rented house in Santa Barbara several times, and he took her out for dinners and movies, and he got along well with her brothers. They went out on his parents’ sailboat a few times, and Sybil and Blake liked him. His name was Max Walker, and he wanted to major in film, which he already seemed very knowledgeable about.

  While they were in Santa Barbara, Andy texted a dozen times a day with the girl he liked in Edinburgh, Quinne MacDonald. He asked his parents if she could visit in San Francisco over Christmas, which was an interesting dilemma, since they spent their holidays with the Butterfields, and they weren’t easy to explain. Sybil and Blake had no idea how they would deal with a stranger or if the Butterfields would even appear if someone else was there. And they didn’t want to spoil things.

  “I already told her about them,” Andy said blithely.

  “You did?” His mother looked stunned. “How did you manage that?” She had never told anyone herself, except Michael Stanton at the Berkeley Psychic Institute, and she wouldn’t have known where to start, without having people think they were on drugs or insane.

  “I just told her how it happened in the beginning, and what it’s like,” Andy said simply. “Her parents have a castle in the north of Scotland, and she says it’s full of old ghosts and relatives who died there and people they don’t know but everyone thinks they see. It’s not exactly like us and the Butterfields, but she said it sounds like fun.” It was fun, for all of them, in both families, that was the odd part. And after a year and a half, they were all used to it and had adjusted. They seemed to have no trouble living together and straddling two different centuries under one roof.

  “I’d like to meet her,” Sybil said about Quinne, and told Blake. Andy seemed serious about the girl.

  When the two families were reunited after their vacations, they had lots to talk about: family news, the baby had grown, and Bettina seemed to be bonding with her a little more with some effort. She had spent most of her time in Woodside riding, and looked happier than she had in a year. She was an expert horsewoman, and Josiah was an excellent rider too. They had spent hours on horseback together in Woodside that summer—and she wanted Lili to ride too when she was older. She had lots of plans for her, which Sybil thought was a good sign. Bettina was having a hard time adjusting to motherhood. She didn’t have the maternal instincts of her own mother. In some ways, Bettina was more like Augusta, and was close to her. She and Angus had been in Woodside too, and she complained about the heat there when they returned, and said she was delighted to be back in the fog in San Francisco.

  Sybil thought Angus looked tired and was getting more confused, but his sister kept a close eye on him. Augusta was still clear as a bell, at whatever great age she was. She kept it a dark secret. Sybil suspected she was in her mid- to late eighties, and could even be ninety, judging by the way she looked and the events she talked about.

  At the end of August, after Andy had returned to Edinburgh for his second year, Sybil took Caroline to UCLA to settle her into the dorms, and she connected with her new friend Max within an hour of her arrival. He helped Sybil carry Caro’s trunks and bags into the dorm, along with her computer, her music system, and the small refrigerator she had rented. He had already been there for two days and knew where everything was. By the time Sybil left the next day, Caro
line barely had time to see her. She and Max were having dinner with friends from other dorms that night. She was off and running in her college life.

  It was a lonely feeling as Sybil drove back to San Francisco that night, and she was particularly glad that she still had Charlie at home. She wasn’t ready to become an empty nester just yet, and for a minute she wondered if Blake was right to want another baby. But at forty now, she wasn’t sure about it. What if there was something wrong with the child? And it would be hard starting all over again. She loved playing with Lili, but a baby was so much work and needed so much attention. She couldn’t see herself doing it again. Bettina had a full-time nurse and her mother to help her. Sybil would do most of it herself, as she had before. Charlie was easy now, at seven. He’d been lording it over his friend that he was a year older than Magnus, which Magnus had complained about to his mother and she laughed. Sybil knew that was going to continue happening, because Magnus would be six forever.

  The house seemed empty without Caroline when Sybil got back to San Francisco, and she sat down to work on her book in earnest. Gwyneth was spending a lot of time with Lili, and working on her computer during the baby’s naps. Bettina had started writing a family history, and asked Augusta for pertinent information, without explaining why. Her grandmother remembered all the details and gossip that no one else did, who was related to whom and how, whom they had married and who died when. Bettina drew a family tree from what Augusta told her, which helped her keep it all straight while she was writing. Sybil knew it would be a fascinating book, and Bettina said it would take her years to finish. Longer than she knew, Sybil realized as she listened to her talk about it, since she had only completed it when she was eighty, in the final years of her life, so she had obviously stopped writing it for a while at some point.

  For the next few months, both Bettina and Sybil spent most of their time writing, and the house was very quiet. Blake was staying late at the office, wrestling with the financial ups and downs of his start-up, and consulting with Bert on it for advice.

  The battles in Europe had been fierce that fall, but by October there was some hope that the war was drawing to an end. More than eight million men had died and twenty-one million had been wounded on the battlefields of Europe, and on November 11, 1918, the armistice was finally signed, nineteen months after America had entered the war and lost over a hundred thousand men, Josiah Butterfield and Tony Salvatore among them. Tony had never returned as a ghost to join the others at the house. Sybil thought it was better that he hadn’t. Bettina was young and alive, and needed to meet someone from her own world, whom her family thought suitable, and who would be willing to be a father to Lili. From reading Bettina’s book, Sybil knew it would happen in time. In December, Bettina made a shocking announcement at dinner that no one had expected. She had exchanged letters with friends of her parents in Paris, and they had invited her to come over in a few months, after the dust settled, now that the war was over. They were aware that she had been widowed and had a baby, and they thought a change of scene would do her good, and so did she.

  “The Margaux?” Gwyneth said, looking shocked. “We haven’t seen them in years. What made you write to them?”

  “I have nothing to do here, Mother,” Bettina said sensibly. “I can’t just walk around our garden pushing Lili in her pram for the rest of my life.” And she didn’t do that anyway, the nurse did. Bettina spent very little time with the baby, and most of her time writing. “I won’t stay forever, just a few months.”

  “Will you take the baby?” Gwyneth looked disappointed at the news, because she was having so much fun with Lili, and Sybil squeezed her friend’s hand when she saw how sad she looked.

  “I think I should. It will be good for her too, to see new people and new places.” It was obvious that she’d given it considerable thought and made up her mind before she told them.

  “When are you thinking of going?” her mother asked her.

  “I haven’t decided. February maybe, or March. The war’s only been over for a few weeks. We’ll see how it goes.” Lili would be a year old by then, and Bettina was going to take the nurse with her.

  “I think it’s an excellent plan,” Augusta chimed in. “She’s never going to meet a husband here, locked up in this house. And no one’s entertaining these days.”

  “They will now that the war is over,” Gwyneth added, and Bettina looked annoyed.

  “I’m not looking for a husband, Grandma. Just a change of scene.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with having both. A nice Englishman perhaps, or a Scot. Please God, no one French. Will you be going to London?”

  “I might. I haven’t figured it out yet. Father, may I go?” She looked at her father imploringly, and he nodded. She wanted to get out of San Francisco for a while. She felt stifled in her life as a widow and a mother sequestered in her parents’ home. She was desperate to get out again.

  “I don’t see why not, as long as you wait for things to calm down over there, and all the soldiers to muster out and go home. You wouldn’t want to be there now.” Bettina agreed. “I think it’s a very good plan. Just don’t stay too long.” He smiled at his oldest daughter. “It’s nice of the Margaux to have you. I’ve always liked them.”

  Gwyneth reluctantly agreed, although she hated to lose her daughter and her grandchild even for a week, let alone several months. But it was obvious to all of them that a trip would do her good, and there was nothing better than Paris for a change of scene. What woman wouldn’t want to go there? Just thinking about it, there was a new spring in Bettina’s step as she ran up the stairs to her room after dinner, to work on her book. And even if it was a few months away, she could hardly wait for Paris.

  Chapter 12

  Andy startled everyone when he sent his mother an email saying he was bringing his girlfriend, Quinne MacDonald, with him when he came home for Christmas. He had mentioned it to Sybil casually over the summer, but she had forgotten all about it. And when she got the email from him, they were due to arrive in a few days.

  They had plenty of room for her, and she was going to sleep with Andy anyway, but Sybil still wasn’t sure how it would work to have a stranger in their midst. Andy had told her before that he had explained the Butterfields to Quinne, but did she really understand that they were all existing at some kind of crossroads of time, and the Butterfields, however lively, were all actually dead? It was a real-life ghost story, based on psychic phenomena that none of them were able to explain. But Andy insisted she was fine with it and that they would all love her. Sybil hoped he was right.

  Out of courtesy and concern, Sybil discussed it with Gwyneth, who was startled too. They never appeared when there were strangers afoot or if the Gregorys were entertaining guests or Blake’s business associates. The two families wanted to spend Christmas together. Gwyneth promised to discuss it with Bert, and got back to Sybil with his response, which had surprised her.

  “He said it’s fine for us, as long as she can handle it and Andy has explained it to her. We can’t predict my mother of course, or Uncle Angus. That could go either way. She might not want to meet strangers or she may be curious about her.” She smiled at Sybil, who was relieved to have their permission for a guest staying at the house. It was still their home too, and the Gregorys treated it that way.

  But when Sybil picked up Andy and Quinne at the airport, she was less sure it would work. Everything about Quinne MacDonald shrieked “modern woman.” She had several noticeable tattoos on her hands and arms and some kind of flower tattooed on her neck, and she was wearing knee-high lace-up military boots with a micro-mini leather skirt. She was a beautiful girl with a lovely face, a graceful figure, and electric blue hair. But she was well spoken and intelligent and had perfect manners, and Andy said she was an excellent student and wanted to go to medical school. She was from a very fancy family in Scotland, and her father was an earl. Sybil hoped that would carry some weight with Augusta and compensate for the blue ha
ir, if Augusta appeared at all. Quinne had six tiny diamond studs in each ear but, fortunately, none in her nose. She had no facial piercings at all. Thinking of Augusta again, Sybil was grateful for that. As the Gregorys became closer to the Butterfields, Augusta had become their matriarch too.

  Their conversation on the way to the house was easy and pleasant, and Quinne thanked Sybil very politely for allowing her to come. She admired the house as they drove into the courtyard, and looked at the Butterfield portraits with interest when they walked into the front hall. And then she turned to Sybil with a questioning look.

  “So where are they?” she asked, referring to the members of the family in the portraits, with an expectant look.

  “We usually meet them for dinner,” Sybil said quietly, although Gwyneth and Bettina often came to her rooms now, which worried Alicia.

  She had noticed her employer talking to herself more and more in the past year, and thought she should be on medication. She thought it might be Tourette’s, which she had read about on the Internet. Charlie seemed to have it too. And Blake once in a while. They all did. They talked to themselves whenever they felt like it, and sometimes they even laughed for no reason. She thought it was very sad that they were mentally ill. They weren’t hurting anyone, but Alicia felt sorry for them anyway. And they dressed up like the Addams family for dinner. She’d see their evening clothes in their dressing rooms the next day. Sybil wore more evening gowns than an opera singer or a movie star. At first Alicia had wondered if they were vampires, which Alicia firmly believed in. It was all crazy behavior to her. Sybil had no idea the housekeeper was observing them so closely and coming to such dire conclusions.

  “If you brought a nice dress with you, you could wear it tonight for dinner,” Sybil told Quinne. “We are not sure if they will appear or if you will be able to see them. But I mentioned you, and I think most of them will come to dinner. They’re quite formal. The men wear white tie and tails for dinner, but Andy’s dad usually wears black tie. Caroline and I try to wear evening gowns, or something long anyway. Caro wears short cocktail dresses too, although I warn you, Uncle Angus is a bit of a lech.” She sounded crazy even to herself as she said it, but Andy didn’t seem to mind, and nodded agreement with what she said. He had told Quinne pretty much the same thing himself.