* * *
Antoinette couldn’t sleep. She listened to the wind rustling through the trees and the creaking of the house, which sounded like the creaking of old bones, and was too frightened to sleep. So she got up and turned on the lights. She threw on her dressing gown and stepped into her slippers. Then she walked downstairs to the drawing room. It was cold in that big room, but she didn’t mind. She went straight to the piano and opened the lid. She knew “Sunset” by heart now, but she placed the music on the stand just in case. Then she sat down and rested her fingers on the keys. They felt at home there, hovering above the ivories. Slowly, she began to play. She smiled as the music filled the room and silenced the creaking, as if the old bones of the house were soothed into slumber.
It felt good to release her fears that way. Now her fingers knew the keys as feet know a well-trodden path. They danced as if they had a mind of their own, and she was able to sit back and listen to the sad rise and fall of the melody. She thought of George, but soon it was Dr. Heyworth’s kind face leaning over the piano and applauding her efforts. She wanted to show him what she had learned and how well she now played. George had never cared much for music, but Dr. Heyworth was very accomplished. It was his approval she wanted.
She stopped playing and pulled her hands off the keys. She rubbed her fingers. That was all she wanted from Dr. Heyworth, she thought anxiously, his approval and his admiration as a pianist. There was nothing unseemly about that. She missed George, she missed him terribly—and with that thought she began to play again, but somehow now the magic was gone.
She closed the piano and stood up. Perhaps she’d sleep now. She looked at her watch; it was one in the morning. Soon the birds would begin to twitter and the sun would inch its way up from Australia and flood the fields with that clean dawn light.
The night was nearly over. She felt heartened to think of the approaching day. She hurried upstairs and climbed into bed. The house was now still, the owls had gone quiet, the wind had dropped. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink slowly into sleep at last.
The following morning a package arrived in the post from Julius Beecher. It was a DVD. The letter stated that he had meant to give it to her before but hadn’t wanted to distress her. It was footage of George skiing in Murenburg a week before he died. Watch it when you’re ready, Lady Frampton. I wanted you to have it so that you are reassured that he was killed doing what he loved. My warmest regards to you and your family, Julius Beecher.
Antoinette stared at the silver disc and felt a chill ripple across her skin. This was footage she had never seen of George, only days before he was gone forever. It was upsetting just to think of it—like watching him speaking from the grave. She was curious, of course, but frightened to see it alone. So she took it into her study and placed it in the top right-hand drawer of her desk, where she kept important things like her passport and keys. She’d wait until she was surrounded by her family, and they could watch it all together. Perhaps Rosamunde could be persuaded to come back for the weekend. She could watch it, too—and Phaedra. Yes, that’s what she’d do. They’d watch it all together as a family, and their unity would give her strength.
* * *
David couldn’t wait for the weekend. Phaedra had agreed to come and stay with him in his farmhouse. He drove his tractor up and down the fields, spraying fertilizer over the crops, imagining what life would be like married to her, avoiding the painful fact that marriage was impossible. The DNA test rose between them like an immovable mountain, but David kept his eyes firmly on his feet or the sky and pretended not to see it.
Phaedra tried to concentrate on her work. She managed to write a few pages, then flicked through the pictures from the weekend on her laptop. She sat for hours mooning over photographs of David, trying to a figure a way out of the mess George had got her into. She knew it was risky staying alone with David in his house, considering how they had so nearly kissed in the drinks room at Margaret’s, but she couldn’t bear to be near Roberta. Although her head begged her to return to Paris, her heart was drawn to David like a mouse to cheese in a trap.
She was aware that Julius Beecher hadn’t called to apologize. It was strange not to hear from him—he had been so dogged in his pursuit of her. She hoped he had let her go and moved on to someone else. She didn’t believe she’d broken his heart: a man had to have a heart in the first place for it to break.
Julius was cold and calculating, a man who wanted her only for the bounty she brought with her. He must have tasted the high life with George and desired it for himself. She knew him to be devious. She wondered whether he had ever stolen from his boss. It was perfectly feasible. George had given him access to all his affairs and trusted him with his businesses. Julius had been more than a lawyer; he’d been his right hand. Thanks to Julius, George had been able to take off whenever he wanted. He’d been free, but at what cost? Phaedra wondered whether he was still stealing from George; after all, he continued to be in control of most of George’s assets, while Joshua tried to navigate his way through his father’s affairs.