“How devious! I suppose she’s run off with the Frampton Sapphires?”
“No, she gave them to David. She said she didn’t want them.”
“Guilty conscience,” said Margaret darkly.
“Yes, probably.”
Margaret narrowed her eyes. “So Julius lied about the DNA test?”
“Yes.”
“I never liked Julius Beecher. Not one little bit. He’s a horrible worm of a man. I was right not to trust him. Wasn’t I the one who needed convincing at the very beginning? I should have followed my instincts, but the girl was very charming.” She shook her head. “A convincing liar. I must say, I’m very disappointed.”
“Me, too,” said Antoinette. “I’m shocked and saddened.”
Margaret’s eyes widened as she suddenly seized upon vital evidence to incriminate Phaedra further. “You know she tried to steal my clock.”
“Your clock?”
“Yes, the one on the mantelpiece in the yellow room. Jenny saw that it was missing and when she searched for it, she found it wrapped in clothes, hidden in Phaedra’s suitcase at the back of the cupboard. At the time I thought she must have been bothered by the loud ticking, but now I realize she must have intended to steal it. What a snake in the grass!”
They sat in silence for a while, digesting the terrible facts. The trees rustled in the wind outside, and sunshine tumbled in through the glass Rosamunde had cleaned so thoroughly, yet neither felt uplifted. “Why do you need to forgive Arthur?” Antoinette asked at last. “What did he do?”
“And I poured my heart out to Phaedra,” Margaret continued, enraged. “I trusted her.” She wrung her hands. “I don’t know who is worse—George or Arthur. Or maybe they’re the same. Like father, like son.” She laughed bitterly, but there was no joy in her eyes, which remained hooded with sorrow. “Arthur had an affair when George was a little boy. I found out, and he came racing back.” She looked at Antoinette steadily. “Men always return to their wives, my dear.”
Antoinette was astonished. “Not you as well!”
“I’m afraid we’re in the same boat.”
“Did Arthur love this other woman?”
“I suppose in his way he did. Men’s hearts aren’t like women’s.”
“Rosamunde says it’s very common for married men to have affairs. Is that true?”
“No, I don’t think that’s true. I suspect most are faithful all their lives. Perhaps all Frampton men have affairs. However, I do believe that men have different needs from women. I realize now that there are many ways to love. Arthur loved me and his mistress, just as George probably loved both you and Phaedra, in different ways. But I also feel sure he’d have come scuttling back to you had you found out about it, just like Arthur did. Goodness knows, he might have built you a folly like this one.” Margaret watched a fat tear roll down Antoinette’s cheek. Instead of finding her tears irritating, she was moved by them. “My dear girl, you have a jolly good cry; you’ll feel so much better. Let it all out.” She lowered her eyes ponderously. “That’s what Phaedra said, and she was right. I let it all out and felt a great deal better. Still, I’m just as hard-hearted about Arthur as you must be about George. Who would have thought we’d have that in common?” Antoinette sniveled, and Margaret smiled kindly. “You know, the sensible side of me would advise you to work towards forgiveness. Even if you never quite get there, try to keep your eye on it and make it your goal, because I have spent decades feeling resentful, and you don’t want to end up an old sourpuss like me, do you?”
“You’re not a sourpuss, Margaret. You’re a very kind person,” Antoinette replied, wiping her eyes with a white handkerchief.
Margaret’s eyes glistened. “That’s very nice of you to say. I’ve been called many things, but ‘kind’ has never been one of them.”
“Shall I light a fire?” Antoinette suggested, getting up.
“Good idea. It’s jolly chilly in here.”
“Well, it’s very early. I don’t suppose anyone is awake yet.”
Margaret grew serious. “How is David?”
Antoinette turned to her, log in hand. “You know, I suppose?”
“I wondered.”
“I think he’s brokenhearted.” Antoinette threw the log into the grate.
“He’ll mend,” said Margaret, but neither of them believed it.
“We all will,” Antoinette agreed. She placed a few more logs in the fireplace and lit it with a lighter. It soon roared boisterously.