The Beekeeper's Daughter A Novel

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘Why wouldn’t he have told me?’

  ‘I don’t know. But then I had tea with old Lady Penselwood.’

  ‘Is she still alive?’

  ‘She certainly is, Mom. She told me that Dad didn’t want any fuss. They wanted to thank him and offered him anything he desired as a reward. He asked for a new life in America. Do you know who found this house and set him up on the farm?’ Grace shook her head. By her contorted features Trixie knew this was all coming as a terrible shock. ‘Randall Wilson Jr.’

  ‘I don’t understand . . . How?’

  ‘Because Aldrich Penselwood was a good friend of Randall Wilson.’

  ‘I knew that,’ said Grace in a quiet voice, remembering her conversation with Big. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Aldrich Penselwood bought this house for you to thank Dad for saving his son’s life.’

  ‘Freddie never told me. He just said we were moving to America. He was so strange. So distant. Not the Freddie I knew. The war had changed him so much, I barely recognized him. He was hostile and cold.’ Her shoulders began to shake. ‘It was awful. I not only lost Rufus but I lost Freddie, too. I lost both of them and I lost my home. The only things I had left were my letters and my memories.’

  Trixie put her arms around her mother and pulled her close. She felt small and fragile. ‘It was a callous way to end the relationship with the woman he loved,’ said Trixie. ‘He could have told you why. Did you ever read them?’

  ‘My own letters? No, I couldn’t bear to. I put them in the bottom of the box. Why? Did you?’

  ‘Yes, I did . . .’ Trixie was about to tell her that she’d also found a letter that was meant for Freddie, but something held her back. She didn’t want to compound her mother’s distress. ‘They were beautiful,’ she said instead.

  ‘Rufus must have been furious that it was Freddie who leapt in front of him. Because due to that act of courage Rufus had to give me up. How ironic that fate should throw them both together in that way.’

  ‘Returning your letters seems like an act of defeat.’

  ‘I suppose it was. There were many obvious obstacles in the way of our happiness together, but Rufus would never have foreseen that one.’

  ‘And none would have been as decisive,’ Trixie added. She squeezed her mother gently. ‘I never thought I’d say poor Rufus. But I mean it. Poor, poor man.’

  Grace chuckled softly. ‘That’s because you have been hurt by love.’

  ‘Perhaps. I love Jasper with all my heart but I had to leave him.’

  ‘Darling, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I always thought you couldn’t understand, but I now realize you’re the only person who really does understand, because you have loved and lost too.’

  ‘When you lost Jasper all those years ago, I wanted to confess that I had loved his father. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to betray your father. I love him too, Trixie. It might sound strange, but I love your father. I love the man beneath the coldness. He wasn’t always like that. He’s not like that really. I love him in spite of it.’

  Trixie rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. ‘I know I can get through it with your help. If I can talk to you about it, I know I will eventually move on.’

  ‘A problem shared is a problem halved.’ Grace gently pushed her daughter away. She looked into her eyes and recognized the sorrow there. ‘I never wanted you to suffer like I have.’

  ‘It’s worth it, though, isn’t it? You’d do it all again, wouldn’t you?’

  Grace smiled. ‘I think I would.’

  ‘Well, so would I.’

  ‘Tell me. How did Rufus die? I’ve often wondered.’

  ‘He went into the garden in the middle of the night, sat on a bench, gazed at the stars and died.’

  Grace’s eyes spilled over again. ‘Listening to the sounds of the garden at night.’

  She nodded and laughed through her tears. ‘He told me that if I listened carefully enough I’d hear the very breath of the garden, going in and out, in and out.’

  ‘I think he died of a broken heart, Mom. I bet he never stopped loving you. His mother said the end of the war changed him. I think she meant the end of his affair.’

  ‘Lady Penselwood,’ said Grace slowly. ‘The war changed her, too. She had a wild affair with the gamekeeper.’

  ‘Really? Like Lady Chatterley’s Lover?’ Trixie exclaimed gleefully. ‘Who’d have thought she had it in her?’

  ‘She was very beautiful in her day. She came alive during the war. Rufus and I were in the woods and we saw her and Mr Swift, up against a tree. It was frightfully shocking.’

  ‘What did Rufus say?’

  ‘He thought nothing of it. I think he rather admired her for her zest!’

  They both laughed. Grace gazed at her daughter with affection. She took her hand. ‘I’m glad you know, Trixie. I’m glad we can share it.’

  ‘You look better now you know the truth.’

  ‘I feel better. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel light.’ She kissed her daughter’s cheek. ‘Thank you, darling. But what of you?’

  ‘That’s what Jasper asked.’

  ‘And how did you respond?’

  Trixie took another drag. ‘I told him I’d be fine. He has a wife, children, duties and responsibilities that come with his position.’ She laughed at herself. ‘To think it never occurred to me that he was a lord. I never worked it out. No wonder it amused him when I called him Mr Duncliffe.’

  ‘Darling, how could you have known?’

  ‘I don’t know. It seems so obvious now. Anyway, he asked me to stay, but he knew it was impossible. He never suggested he leave Lottie. I don’t think I’d hold him in such high esteem if he was capable of turning his back on his family like that. So I’m the loser. But I’ll bounce back.’

  ‘You will, darling. I did. We had you. We found happiness of sorts. I threw myself into the gardens I created. I discovered that the human spirit has a great capacity to heal and adapt. I haven’t been unhappy, Trixie. Yes, I have my memories and even though they make me a little sad, they bring me joy, too. I remember the good times with Freddie, before the war. He was adorable and very romantic. You can’t imagine, but he was playful and sweet. I hold onto those.’

  ‘So what’s with the lavender bag?’ Trixie asked.

  ‘I made it for Rufus, to help him sleep.’

  ‘It looks like he slept with it for years. It’s totally worn out.’

  Grace smiled softly. ‘I think he did.’

  ‘And how are you, Mom? I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I need to know. I can’t bear to lose you too.’

  Grace pulled her daughter close and ran a hand down her hair. ‘I’m a fighter, Trixie.’ She kissed her forehead. ‘After all, I have so much to fight for.’

  As the day finally surrendered to the darkness, Grace and Trixie filled their glasses with more wine and Grace listened, transfixed, as Trixie told her about her brief vacation. She wanted to hear every detail. She wanted to know what Walbridge was like now. She wanted to hear about the Beekeeper’s Cottage, the Hall, the Fox and Goose, Lady Georgina and Lady Penselwood. And when she had heard all the stories, she wanted to hear them all over again.

  By the time Freddie returned home, Grace was in bed. The excitement had exhausted her. ‘Hello, Trixie,’ he said, surprised to find his youngest daughter in Grace’s sitting room. ‘How are things in the Big Apple?’

  ‘Great, Dad, thanks. I thought I’d spend some time with Mom.’

  ‘I bet she was happy to see you.’

  She grinned. ‘Very.’

  Freddie hovered in the doorway, looking awkward. ‘Well, I’ll help myself to something from the fridge.’

  ‘Dad,’ said Trixie, getting up and walking across the room towards him.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I love you.’ She laughed at the astonished look on his face. ‘I know I sound like I’m going crazy. But I just wanted to tell you. I love you and appreci
ate everything you’ve done for me over the years. I often thought you too controlling, but now I know you had my best interests at heart. I wish I had known that then.’ She put her arms around him and felt him stiffen. Undeterred, she held him firmly. Slowly and barely perceptibly, he softened and patted her hard on the back. Harder than he had ever patted her before, and her throat contracted and her heart seemed to fold in on itself. She remained there for a long moment, her tears staining a dark patch on his shirt.

  Trixie made her father pasta while he disappeared into his office to help himself to a drink. He returned with a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He asked her about New York, so she told him about her interview with Rifat Ozbek, omitting the fact that it had taken place in London. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her trip. She wasn’t sure he’d be as understanding as her mother. She remembered Lady Penselwood telling her that Freddie resented Rufus for having come out of the battle unscathed. He probably regretted having saved him. Bringing up his heroism now might undermine their moment in the sitting room. She hadn’t felt this close to him, ever. She wasn’t about to go and ruin it by bringing up his past.

  Freddie felt a little lightheaded when he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He had drunk two whiskies and a glass of wine. Trixie had joined him at the dining-room table and they had both eaten the pasta she had made. She had asked him about his golf and questioned him about his first days on the farm just after the war. She had looked at him intensely and listened without interrupting. He was surprised she was interested. She had never been interested before.

  He crept into the darkened room. He could see his wife in bed, peacefully sleeping. She had left the light on in the bathroom and he went in there to undress so as not to wake her. He showered and changed into his pyjamas. Then he switched off the light and climbed into bed, doing his best to slip in quietly, disturbing the mattress as little as possible. He lay there a moment, staring at the ceiling.

  ‘Freddie.’ It was Grace. Her voice was a sleepy whisper.

  ‘I thought you were asleep,’ he replied.

  ‘I was, but I’m awake now. Have you seen Trixie?’

  ‘Yes, a nice surprise to see her.’

  ‘Freddie?’ Her voice sounded heavy.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I need to talk to you and I need you to be honest with me.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Did you save Rufus’s life in the war?’

  There was a long silence. A laboured, uncomfortable silence, as if the room were holding its breath and struggling with the effort. Grace waited. While she waited for his reply she felt the blood pulsate in her temples. She expected him to shut her out. She expected the air to turn cold with him. But it didn’t. ‘I took a bullet for him,’ Freddie said quietly. Grace was stunned by his openness. Perhaps the darkness, the whiskey or the fact that he knew she was dying gave him the courage to speak about it.

  ‘You were a hero. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I wasn’t a hero.’

  ‘But you were. I mocked you when you cried about the bee sting, and your mother said that boys are courageous when it matters. She was right and I was wrong. You gave your eye in exchange for Rufus’s life. If that’s not heroic, nothing is.’

  She felt him stiffen beside her. There was another long pause. The bed grew hot but she dared not move. ‘I loathed him,’ he said, and the tone of his voice sent a cold shiver rippling across her skin. ‘I knew you loved him, Grace. I received a letter from you that was meant for him.’ She let out a gasp. The bed seemed to be falling away beneath her. She spread her fingers over the sheets to steady it. ‘I didn’t jump to save him, Grace,’ he said. ‘I jumped to punch his lights out.’

  They lay still beneath the weight of his confession. Grace didn’t know how to respond. She blinked into the darkness, sick to her stomach, not at the thought of his violent intent, but at the thought of his having suffered in silence all these years, knowing that she had loved another. She had assumed his coldness was due to the horror of war. She never imagined it was because of her. Now she understood and her heart swelled with compassion. War hadn’t changed him; she had. She moved her hand beneath the covers and found his. He gripped it hard, and the ferocity of it moved her to tears.

  ‘It was a moment of madness, Grace,’ he continued, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above them. ‘A moment of jealousy. As I lunged towards him I saw the pistol pointing right at him. It happened so quickly, but at the time it felt as if it was all in slow motion, as if I was under water. I looked at Fritz with his finger on the trigger and his face twisted with hatred, and I didn’t draw back. Something urged me on. I honestly don’t know whether in that moment I threw myself at Lord Melville to save him or kill him.’ He stifled a sob. ‘I wanted him dead, but I saved his life. When Lord Penselwood invited me to the Hall to reward me for my bravery, I was so disgusted with myself I could barely look him in the eye. As for Rufus, I loathed him. He lived to love you still and I had lost my eye.’ His voice thinned. ‘Losing you hurt more than losing my eye. I would have given both eyes for your love, Grace.’

  ‘He returned all my letters, Freddie,’ said Grace, trying to console him but finding there was little she could say to absolve herself. Warm tears trailed down her neck and grew cold on the pillow beneath her head.

  ‘But you still loved him,’ he groaned. ‘You always had. But I knew he’d never leave his wife for you. He was selfish and self-indulgent. You were like a helpless fish on a hook and you thought I didn’t notice.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘I noticed every time I looked into your eyes. Because you gazed at me with longing and I knew you wished I was him.’ She struggled against the force of regret that threatened to carry her away like a strong undercurrent. She held his hand tightly and focused on a strip of moonlight that painted a slice of silver on the far wall. ‘So, I asked to start a new life in America and Lord Penselwood arranged it. Big’s father was a friend of his and he organized everything. I thought if I took you to the other side of the world, you’d forget Rufus.’ He chuckled bitterly. ‘But I was wrong. You never forgot him and I felt invisible. You cared for your bees, for the children, for your gardens, but you never cared for me.’

  Grace could bear it no longer. She rolled over and placed her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. ‘You’re wrong. I thought the war had changed you. I thought you resented me for not understanding what you’d been through. I weathered your resentment because I remembered the Freddie I had grown up with and fallen in love with. I knew you were still there and I waited patiently for you to emerge. I thought time would heal.’ She nuzzled her face into his neck. ‘I love you, Freddie. I don’t think I would have pined for Rufus if I had believed you loved me. Rufus was a brief infatuation. I wish I could erase it. I wish it had never happened. It was an illusion. I was flattered. I don’t know. I was a fool. My father was right. You were always the man for me. But after the war I needed to feel loved and I believed he loved me. Can’t you see? There was a void. He filled it. But all the time I longed for you to look at me like you used to.’

  Freddie placed his hand on her back and slowly stroked her. ‘I wanted to go back to the river. To our secret clearing where Rufus couldn’t reach us. I wanted you to admire me like you did when I dived off the bridge. Do you remember how cross you got when I hid underwater?’

  ‘You frightened me. I thought you were dead.’

  ‘I wanted to frighten you. I wanted proof that you cared.’

  ‘And you got it.’

  ‘And I kissed you for the first time.’

  ‘That was the most beautiful kiss I have ever had.’ She buried her face against his cheek and closed her eyes. ‘I want you back. I might not have much time to live, but I want to spend the time I do have with my old friend and lover. My old Freddie Valentine.’

  She felt his arms envelop her as they had done on their wedding night in the Beekeeper’s Cottage, and as his hands wandered over the forgotten contours of
her body she felt the same sensations of being loved for the very first time. His lips searched for hers in the darkness and his kiss was as tender and ardent as it had been then, before betrayal and mistrust had turned them into strangers. With each gentle caress the desolate landscape of her being slowly thawed like winter soil that begins to flower with the warm caress of spring.

  When Grace eventually fell asleep, a contented smile hovered over her lips. The tears had dried on her pillow. Her hand, still holding Freddie’s, relaxed and opened slightly. She slipped into unconsciousness, but unlike other nights, she was aware of where she was. As if she dwelt above herself and was looking down at her own sleeping body. She remained like that, at peace, observant, strangely comfortable, as if she had been outside herself many times, only forgotten.

  Then she heard a familiar voice and saw a bright light in the distance, far, far away. She turned her attention from the bed and the sight of herself and Freddie lying hand in hand, and flew towards it, propelled by longing and the ever-expanding love in her heart. So this is what it feels like to die, she thought, and she wasn’t in the least afraid, so strong was her desire to reach the other side. To return home.

  The light grew bigger and brighter and more intense. In the middle of it stood the familiar figure of her father in his overalls and tweed cap, and she realized then that the presence by the bees had been him all along. That he had never left her, just as he had promised. ‘Dad!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re here.’

  ‘I’ve always been with you, Gracey,’ he said and he looked young, vibrant and full of joy.

  ‘And Mother?’

  He smiled. ‘She’s here too. She never left. Love connects us, Gracey. It’s a bond that never dies. You have to trust what you sense.’

  ‘Am I dead?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m here to tell you that it is not your time. Trixie needs you now more than ever, and so does Freddie.’

  ‘Can’t I stay?’

  ‘You have to go back. You have more to do.’ The light began to fade, her father with it.

  ‘But I have cancer. I’m dying.’