Back at the house the sitting room was frozen in stunned silence. David put his head in his hands. He had never felt such despair. Phaedra was not his blood after all, but she had been his father’s mistress. He didn’t know which was worse. Either way, he could never have her. Once again fate had given with one hand and taken with the other.
Antoinette stared at the blank television screen and felt the peace she had worked so hard to find turn into a fiery ball of devastation. Her world was reduced to ruins, and the girl she had grown to love was at the very center of it. She knew she’d never forgive her.
Rosamunde was the first to speak. “How dare she come into your home, accept your hospitality and the warmth of your embrace, knowing all the time that—” She couldn’t articulate the words. It was so horrendous as to be rendered unspeakable.
“I’m so sorry, Mum,” said Tom, putting his arm around her. “I loved Dad, but frankly, what a shit.”
“How could he do that?” Joshua mumbled.
“How could Phaedra . . .” Antoinette sniffed, then broke down in tears again.
“She lied to us,” said David, only now understanding her relief when the only lie he had discovered in Switzerland was the age on her passport.
“I thought she was such a good thing,” said Tom. “What a bitch!”
“Oh dear, I do so hate being right,” said Roberta, standing up and switching off the television. “I smelled a rat right from the start. But now I wish I’d been wrong.”
“Darling,” said Joshua, trying to silence her before she said something she’d regret.
“Let me speak, Josh. I’m not going to gloat. God, I’m a member of this family, too, and I hate to see you all so devastated. I suspected that she and Julius had concocted a plan, but I never in a million years thought that she would be George’s mistress. I don’t believe she’s lying, in which case she was wronged as well. George tried to have both wife and lover and hoped neither one would find out about the other. What a mess! I thought she was after the Frampton Sapphires.”
“She never wanted them,” David interjected. “She gave them to me to keep.”
“Thank God she’s come clean and those valuable jewels will remain in the family,” Roberta exclaimed with a satisfied sniff.
“What on earth possessed Dad to be so rash?” Joshua questioned.
“I suspected George was having an affair,” said Antoinette, to everyone’s surprise. “I sensed it intuitively, as women do. But I never expected the woman to be Phaedra.” She began to cry again. “I feel so let down.”
“I think you need a stiff drink,” Rosamunde suggested.
“No, I want to go to bed. I’m suddenly very tired.” Tom helped her up. “What will Margaret say? She’ll be devastated. She loved Phaedra, too.”
“I’ll tell her,” David suggested.
“No, I’ll tell her tomorrow. I think it’s better coming from me,” Antoinette insisted.
Rosamunde felt a strong sense of déjà vu as she tucked her sister into bed. “You were doing so well,” she said regretfully.
“I’m back to square one. Only worse than I was before.” Antoinette wiped her eyes on the pillow. “Do you think George loved me at all?”
“Oh, Antoinette, of course he did. You know what men are like. Phaedra was a short fling. Nothing more.”
“But he was saying how much he loved Phaedra. I think she was everything that I was not. Perhaps if I’d skied and been braver . . .”
“It’s got nothing to do with that. You were a good wife to George, and he loved you dearly.”
“I feel worthless, Rosamunde.”
“I know you do. But married men have had affairs since time immemorial. Love and sex are two very different things. He had a crush, as simple as that, the same as he had a crush on lots of things. Do you remember how he’d become infatuated with a new project then toss it to Julius to take on? He always lost interest after a while, didn’t he? Well, Phaedra was just like that, a crush. Had he lived, he would probably have binned her already and changed back his will.” Rosamunde sighed heavily. “I must say, I’m disappointed in George. I never expected this of him.”
“I feel like going to his grave and taking away all the flowers I’ve ever put there. I hate him.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I hate him, Rosamunde. I hate him, and I don’t ever want to see Phaedra again.”
28
The following morning Antoinette awoke at dawn. Her initial sense of happiness at the sight of the pale light breaking through the gaps in the curtains and the promise of another day in the garden was robbed by the sudden onslaught of memories from the night before. She lay in bed and stiffened as they surfaced one by one like corpses from beneath a green and vibrant pasture, stealing all that was familiar and tender, until she had to clamber out of bed and retch into the lavatory next door.