‘Well, I’m going to wait for him. I’ll wait as long as it takes, but I will marry him.’
Encouraged by his wife’s surprising support, Freddie decided to strike a deal, one that he was sure would turn out to his advantage. ‘If he sends for you, you have my blessing,’ he said slowly.
Grace swallowed hard. ‘And you have mine, too,’ she added.
Freddie nodded and there was a glimmer of warmth behind his eyes. ‘Then that’s settled.’
Trixie was reassured. The colour returned to her cheeks. ‘You mean that?’ she asked. ‘You really mean that?’
‘I mean that,’ her father confirmed. He took a cigarette out of his breast pocket and lit it, then he turned and leaned on the balustrade and looked out over the sea. ‘If he sends for you I will admit that I’m wrong and that I’ve misjudged him.’
Trixie was suddenly filled with excitement. ‘Then I must go and tell Jasper right away!’ she exclaimed, her face now pink and smiling elatedly. She ran into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the way, and out through the hall. The screen door rattled then slammed and the house was left silent and still.
Grace and Freddie remained on the veranda. The dogs, who had sought refuge in the kitchen, now wandered out sheepishly, sensing perhaps that the air was strained with thoughts too anguished to articulate. Freddie smoked pensively, Grace sipped her wine. They had united briefly and yet, still, they felt oceans apart. Grace tried not to think about herself. She thought of her daughter, setting out on the first adventure of her life, her heart filled with love and optimism, just as hers had been all those years ago. Trixie believed, as Grace once did, that love has the power to burn away all obstacles, that it is a virtue that negates any wickedness committed in its name. Grace could tell her she was wrong, as she herself had been, but what was the use? Her father had told her that wisdom cannot be taught. ‘Knowledge can be taught, but wisdom must be learned through experience,’ he had said. Trixie had to make her own way and learn from her own mistakes. That was the purpose of life.
‘What’s for supper?’ Freddie asked, turning away from his melancholic pondering.
Grace looked at her watch. ‘The apple pie will be ready now,’ she said.
‘Apple pie? That’s good,’ he replied.
‘I’ve made chicken escalopes to fry.’
He smiled. ‘Good. I don’t imagine Trixie’s going to come home to eat.’
‘No, she’ll be eating at Joe’s, I should think.’ She stood up and followed him into the kitchen. ‘How sad for the boys. Do you think their dream of being a famous band is now over?’
Freddie nodded. ‘I think so. From what I heard, Jasper has the voice.’
‘And the money to finance it,’ she added quietly.
‘Indeed. I think the most disappointed will be Joe. He must have seen Jasper as a pot of gold.’
‘Poor boy. He came all the way out here to escape his family and live his dream and it’s all shattered.’
‘They’re different from us, Grace.’
‘I know,’ she replied softly.
‘We’re going to have to be strong for Trixie.’
‘Yes, we are.’
He smiled at her sadly. ‘He’s never going to send for her.’
‘Men like him never do.’ She took the escalopes out of the fridge and put the pan on the stove. ‘Duty first,’ she added, careful to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
‘Duty first,’ he agreed. ‘Trixie will have to learn the hard way that her parents know best.’
‘And that we love her very much,’ Grace added firmly. That was the only form of love she was totally sure of.
Trixie and Jasper snuggled into the little rowing boat in Joe’s boathouse. It was the only place where they could be totally alone and undisturbed. They had lined it with anything soft they could find and lay entwined, aware of every minute that brought them closer to saying goodbye. They didn’t make love. Neither felt like sex. It seemed somehow inappropriate to reduce their relationship to the merely physical, when what they felt now, in the face of such uncertainty, was much more spiritual.
In spite of Jasper’s reassurances that he’d send for her when he was ready, at the back of Trixie’s mind lurked a small smudge of doubt. Contained in that small smudge was the memory of Jasper telling her that his mother wouldn’t approve of her and of her father warning her that, for a man like Jasper, duty to his family would always come first. She didn’t voice her fears because she was afraid that if she brought them out into the open they might come true. While Jasper was promising her a life together she wanted to believe him.
Trixie wished she could spend the whole night wrapped in his arms, but she knew she had to leave. Soon they’d be married and she’d have every morning to wake up with him for the rest of her life. Reluctantly, she asked him to walk her home. They set off up the beach, hand in hand. The water lapped the sand with waves so quiet they were barely audible. The sky was studded with stars as bright as quartz and in the midst of it all was a luminous moon encircled by mist. It was beautiful and Trixie felt all the more moved to be parting from her lover surrounded by such magnificence.
He kissed her beneath the porch and plucked a rose as he had done before. ‘You’ll come and see me off tomorrow, won’t you?’ he asked, slipping the flower behind her ear.
‘You know I will.’
‘God, I’m going to miss you, Trixie,’ he groaned, gazing down at her.
‘And I’m going to miss you, too. But we’ll be together very soon.’
‘Yes, we’ll be together soon,’ he reassured her. ‘Very soon.’ This time she didn’t scale the wall. It didn’t seem becoming for a girl on the brink of marriage to be sneaking in through the window.
She opened the door and kissed him one last time. ‘Until tomorrow,’ she said.
Jasper watched her disappear inside, then he walked back down the beach. A terrible emptiness engulfed him. The world seemed somehow less friendly now that his brother was no longer in it. He imagined his mother’s grief and felt a yearning for home. He’d have to step into his brother’s shoes now and be the man. He wasn’t sure how to do that. He’d always been the rebellious boy of the family. His two sisters would need him, too – they’d all need him and yet he was so lacking in every quality now required of him. He cursed Edward for dying and leaving him in the dreaded position of having to take over. He cursed him for dying and leaving him broken-hearted.
But Trixie was a lifeline. She was the part of Tekanasset and his dream that he could cling to. For a man drowning in a sea of impending responsibility, she was the little raft that promised to preserve Jasper Duncliffe. As long as they were together his dream was still afloat. Perhaps he couldn’t ever be the musician he longed to be and he would never tour the world with George and Ben, but he and Trixie would live their dream in the English countryside and he’d play his guitar and she’d listen and somehow she’d keep his creative spirit alive. He truly felt he could be happy if Trixie was by his side.
Of course, his mother would disapprove. Trixie was not the sort of girl she could ever warm to, for reasons which were too small-minded and petty to contemplate. His mother was a superficial, prejudiced woman who would certainly consider a girl like Trixie to be beneath her in every way. Jasper wished he were wrong and that his mother would surprise him and embrace the girl he loved, but he knew in his heart that acceptance and compassion were not included among the few redeeming qualities she possessed. However, he would insist; after all, he was the man of the family now and no one could tell him what to do. That thought uplifted him a little.
Trixie slept fitfully. She drifted in and out of sleep and was plagued by confusing dreams of losing things and shouting and not being heard. She woke as dawn broke over the sea and her heart lurched as memories of the day before closed in and covered the sun with cloud.
She got up and threw on her dressing gown. The kitchen was quiet. The dogs weren’t there. She smelt co
ffee. The weak light streamed in through the windows. Outside the sea was as calm as a lake. Then she heard the soft squeaking of the swing chair on the veranda. She padded outside to find her mother, alone, in her dressing gown, her hair dishevelled and falling over her shoulders, her rough gardener’s hands hugging a mug of coffee. Her face, devoid of make-up, was pale and drawn, but she looked younger, like a girl, in her desolation. When she saw Trixie she raised her bloodshot eyes and pulled a frail smile. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You’re up early.’
‘I’m too nervous to sleep,’ Trixie replied, sitting beside her.
Grace put an arm around her child and pulled her close. ‘I know,’ she said, pressing her cheek to Trixie’s hair. ‘I’m sorry this terrible tragedy has ruined your happiness.’
‘It’s going to be OK,’ Trixie replied firmly. ‘We love each other. There’s nothing that can keep us apart.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ said Grace.
‘I have no doubt,’ Trixie lied. ‘It’s just all happened much quicker than we anticipated.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘I was intending to go on tour with him in the fall. It was going to be a challenge to get that past Dad, but now, as it happens, I’ll be going to England instead and Dad has given us his blessing. It’s turned out much better this way. I won’t have a fight on my hands. You’ll have to come over. I can’t imagine Jasper’s family will schlep out here for the wedding.’
Trixie felt her mother tense and sat up. ‘Are you all right about this, Mom? I know I’m going to the other side of the world, but it’s your home. Surely that’s a good thing. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to live in Australia.’
‘I know, but it’s all come as a bit of a surprise. I just need time to get used to it.’
‘Oh Mom, you know I love you,’ said Trixie, pulling a sad face.
Grace chuckled. ‘I know you do, darling, and I love you so much.’
‘You won’t be losing me.’
‘You’ll be very far away, though.’
‘But you can come and visit.’
Grace nodded, but her eyes began to sting so she turned her gaze to the ocean and blinked hard. ‘Tell me, darling, does Jasper . . .’ She paused and cleared her throat. ‘Do Jasper’s parents know about your plans?’
‘I don’t know. I mean, he hasn’t mentioned them.’
‘At all?’ Grace was almost too frightened to breathe.
‘Well, his father is dead and although he said his mother would disapprove of me, I’m sure once she meets me she’ll like me.’
Grace continued to stare out over the water. ‘His father’s dead?’ she asked, and her voice was as calm and steady as the sea.
‘Yes, that’s what he said.’
‘How did he die?’
‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.’
Grace nodded, but she didn’t turn to look at her daughter. If she had, Trixie would have seen the raw pain in her eyes and the tight muscles in her neck as she fought back her tears. Trixie continued to talk, which gave Grace time to suppress her grief. A little bee buzzed about one of the balls of hydrangeas. Grace was distracted a moment and turned to watch it. A second later it flew towards her and settled onto the lapel of her dressing gown, the exact same place where she always wore her bee brooch. She caught her breath and remained very still.
‘Mom, there’s a bee on your dressing gown,’ said Trixie. Grace was too moved to do anything but nod. ‘Are you all right?’ Trixie now noticed her mother’s strange expression. She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. She put her arm around her and the bee flew away. ‘Mom?’
Grace let out a howl of pain. It came from deep in her core and frightened Trixie with its brutal, primitive sound. ‘Mom, what’s the matter?’ she asked, but Grace couldn’t explain. Not to her daughter, not to her husband, not to anybody. Where would she begin? How could she translate into words the sheer depth of her love? How could she describe the devastation of her loss? So she didn’t.
She pulled herself together and dried her eyes, then she kissed her daughter tenderly. ‘I hope it works out for you, Trixie,’ she said softly, smoothing away the lines of confusion on her daughter’s face. ‘I hope you both have a love that lasts. You deserve nothing less.’
‘Thank you, Mom,’ Trixie replied. ‘But I’m sure it will.’
Grace patted her daughter’s knee. ‘Why don’t you go and put some clothes on and I’ll make you breakfast. You need all your strength today.’
Trixie left her mother on the veranda and went upstairs to dress. As she pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a casual sweater she heard the muffled sound of crying again. She had never heard her mother sobbing like this before and it cut her very deep to think that she was the cause of her unhappiness. She wondered whether to go down and comfort her, but something told her that Grace could not be comforted.
Later Trixie stood on the quay and kissed Jasper goodbye. ‘If you cry tears into the water of this harbour, it means you’ll come back,’ she told him, her eyes glassy with emotion. ‘Make sure you do, because mine won’t count.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ he said. ‘But you’re coming to me first. Promise you’ll wait?’
‘I promise.’
He embraced her fiercely and pressed his lips to hers. ‘I love you, Trixie Valentine.’
‘And I love you, Jasper Duncliffe.’
As he boarded the boat, her words rang in his head like a melody that was already outdated – a melody that belonged in a world which was no longer real. He waved goodbye to Trixie, to George and Ben and Joe. He waved goodbye to Jasper Duncliffe, musician, free spirit, boy, and he waved goodbye to Lord Jasper Duncliffe, too, because neither of them existed any more. He was Lord Penselwood now, the new Marquess of Penselwood, and he was going home, to Walbridge Hall.
PART TWO
Chapter 10
Walbridge, England, 1938
The first time Grace cried for Rufus was on the day of his engagement in the spring of 1938. It would not be the last.
She hadn’t seen him since that July, five years before, when he had driven her back to the Beekeeper’s Cottage in his gleaming Alfa Romeo. Although she had looked out for him in the ensuing years from her secret vantage point just below the woods, she had never seen him, or his motor car. If he had spent time at home she had been unaware of it.
Of course, there was no reason why he should have sought her company. Although she was a young woman now, from a class point of view they were quite literally worlds apart. Nevertheless she yearned for him. She kept the memory of his face, captured that day in the open-topped motor car, like a picture postcard held against her heart, and the wonderful thing about memories is that they never fade. Photographs get damaged, sun-bleached, tarnished and curled, but memories are always as new as the day they were made. Rufus’s dark chocolate eyes, smiling at her fondly, were as bright as if it had been only yesterday.
She’d share her dreams with her mother, knowing that although she couldn’t see her she was close, listening with interest and loving her unconditionally. Sometimes she’d cry onto her pillow because she feared her love for Rufus would prevent her from ever enjoying a real love. She worried that no one would be capable of inspiring in her the intoxicating mixture of happiness and longing that Rufus inspired. Although she accepted that he would never, could never love her, she harboured a secret desire in her heart, so small she was barely aware of it, that by some magic the world would change and he would one day love her as he would love a woman in his own world.
But then she heard the news that he was getting married and all her dreams shattered in one terrible, devastating moment.
It was a Saturday night at the Fox and Goose. Grace had just turned nineteen. She sat in the pub with her father, Auntie May and Uncle Michael, Freddie and his younger sister, Josephine. Grace didn’t much like Josephine. She had a sour mouth and a sharp tongue, and other people’s happiness irritated her to the point of rudeness. Freddie now worked on the Walbridge
estate full time. Mr Garner was still very much alive, so Freddie’s dreams of managing the farm were yet to be realized. Grace was employed four afternoons a week by a retired colonel who lived alone in a manor house on the edge of town. Reverend Dibben had recommended her and the old colonel paid her well for the simple task of reading to him, because his eyesight was rapidly deteriorating and he loved books more than anything else in the world. So Grace, with her sweet voice and intelligent narration, was the perfect companion, bringing much pleasure and satisfaction to a grateful old man.
Everyone wondered why Arthur Hamblin had never married again. Not only would marriage have given him companionship, but it would have freed his daughter from the responsibility of looking after him. Some said it was because he still mourned his wife, others claimed it was because he never wanted a stepmother for Grace. Whatever the reason, Grace cared for him as a dutiful daughter should. She washed and ironed his clothes, kept the house clean and tidy, cooked his meals and kept him company. Her afternoons with Colonel Redwood were a welcome respite from domesticity. She was able to indulge her love of novels, for Colonel Redwood’s favourite books were the greatest love stories every written. While she read Tolstoy, Dumas and Austen, the tales of broken hearts and longing fuelled her own fantasies and the secret hope that like the heroes and heroines of those novels, she and Rufus might, by some wonderful twist of fate, love each other too.
But then Michael Valentine came back from the bar with a trio of beers for himself, Freddie and Arthur, and the happy news just relayed to him by the publican. ‘Lord Melville has found himself a bride,’ he announced cheerfully, sitting down.
‘How wonderful,’ gushed May. ‘Who is the lucky lady?’
‘Some duke’s daughter. I don’t know.’ Michael shrugged and sank his lip into the foamy head of his beer.
Josephine blew a stream of smoke out of the side of her scarlet mouth like a dragon. ‘How dreary,’ she sneered. ‘There’s nothing wonderful about an arranged marriage, Mum. Their lot are all so dry and unemotional. It’ll be a very dull wedding, I suspect.’ Grace watched them discussing the news through the cloud of smoke, as if she were a ghost. She remained very still, internalizing her misery so that no one would know that the news had just broken her heart.
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