A Mother's Love(39)
“That’s because she can’t ski,” said Tom. “Serious skiers don’t go to Gstaad!”
“And because Murenburg isn’t glamorous enough for her,” David added. “No designer shops or celebrities.”
“It’s understandable that she should want to carve her own niche. Murenburg is very much Frampton territory. I don’t blame her for that,” said Antoinette, trying hard to keep the family united.
“But Josh is a serious skier; he must be bored rigid in Gstaad,” Tom mused. Then he laughed mischievously. “But then again, he must be bored rigid being married to Roberta.” David laughed with him while Antoinette and Rosamunde tried not to look amused.
“Shame on you, boys, you’re too much!” Rosamunde exclaimed, her mouth twitching at the corners. She caught her sister’s eye. “But really, Antoinette, we do need something to laugh about!” Antoinette’s face broke into a smile. She glanced at the head of the table and discovered that it was possible to laugh and cry at the same time.
After dinner, David walked across the garden to his house, positioned on the other side of the large ornamental lake his father had built for floating his collection of miniature boats. It was a pretty red-brick lodge, built in the same Jacobean style as the main house. Inside, the walls were lined with bookshelves, but many books lay piled on the floor for lack of space, and magazines were strewn across the surfaces. David loved to read, especially history, and spent many evenings in front of the fire with his dog, devouring books he had ordered on Amazon.
He opened the door, and Rufus, his golden Labrador, bounded out of the kitchen to greet him. Trevor, the farm manager, had taken him off for the day, returning him home after a long walk at six. Rufus loved Trevor, who had two mongrels and a garden full of chickens, but he loved David most of all, and jumped up in his excitement to see him.
David let him out to stretch his legs, and the two of them walked briskly around the lake. The moon was bright, lighting up the water so that it shone like hematite. The air was damp and sweet with the smell of regeneration. He heard the mournful hooting of a tawny owl calling to its mate, followed by the tinny cough of a pheasant as it was awoken by Rufus and driven into the sky in alarm. David loved the mystery of the night. He looked about him, at the thick shrubs and bushes, and wondered how many eyes were quietly watching him through the darkness. He enjoyed walking through their secret world and forgetting himself.
As he strode on, his mind wandered to Phaedra and the embarrassed look on her face when Julius had brought up the subject of his father’s will. She was clearly aware she might appear moneygrubbing and keen to show that she wasn’t. Julius, on the other hand, had no shame. As executor of the will, he was concerned only with making sure that George’s wishes were carried out. David wondered whether Phaedra would show up for the meeting—or indeed for the weekend his mother intended to invite her to stay. She had scurried out of the library like a frightened rabbit. He knew there was a good chance he’d never see her again.
He returned home and made himself a cup of tea. Content in his routine, Rufus curled up on his blankets in the corner of David’s bedroom, closed his eyes, and fell asleep instantly. David showered then climbed into bed to read his book. But his gaze meandered, and he lost track more than once. It was no good. He was unable to concentrate. He put his book on the bedside table and turned off the light. A wave of apprehension washed over him. The world seemed so much bigger without his father in it.
On Monday morning Antoinette telephoned Julius to arrange the reading of the will. She told him to invite Phaedra, which seemed to make Julius very happy. “You’re doing the right thing, Lady Frampton,” he said cheerfully. “Lord Frampton would be very pleased.” When she put down the telephone, she felt an unexpected happiness fill her chest with the warm feeling of doing something good. She gazed out of the study window to where Barry the gardener was cutting the winter grass into bright green stripes with his little tractor. There was something reassuring about the rumbling noise it made, and she realized that in spite of such a monumental change, life at Fairfield would continue as it always had.
She remained a moment at the window. She noticed the phosphorescent color of the new grass and the promise of red tulips peeping through the earth in the lime walk. A pair of blue tits played about the viburnum. Spring had found her stride once more, and the sun shone with a bright new radiance. Antoinette inhaled deeply and realized that she’d forgotten how soothing it was to observe the wondrous work of Nature.