The Woman from Paris(143)

“Oh, George, do you realize the trouble you’re in?” she said quietly. “Do you have any idea of the wreckage you’ve left behind? You’ve jumped ship and left us all to crash on the rocks.” It felt strangely good to unburden her thoughts to the man who had inspired them. “I now realize that perhaps you did love me and that you loved Phaedra, too. You probably loved us both in different ways, as Margaret suggested. Perhaps together we completed the woman you wanted to be with. I one half, Phaedra the other. It’s odd, because I feel incomplete without her, as if we really are two halves of a whole. I miss her, George. I miss her very much. She brought joy into our home, and now it’s gone. It’s going to take me a while to forgive you—it’s taken years for your mother to forgive your father for the same transgression, so imagine, I’m not there yet. But I am trying. Wherever you are, if you can hear me, know that I am doing my best—and if you have any power at all, bring her back.” Her eyes welled with tears as she replaced the roses against the headstone. Instead of returning to her car, she walked through the churchyard to the wooden gate in the hedge that led to Dr. Heyworth’s house.

A moment later she stood at his conservatory door and knocked on the glass. The lights were on, so she knew he must be at home. She tried the door; it opened easily. “Hello!” she called out. “It’s me, Antoinette!” She sniffed. Wasn’t that the smell of burning? Seized with a sudden panic she hurried through the conservatory and down the corridor to the kitchen. “William! William! Are you all right? It’s me, Antoinette! William!”

The kitchen was full of smoke, and Dr. Heyworth was hastily opening windows to let it out. When he saw Antoinette, he looked embarrassed. “Oh dear, you’ve caught me burning cake.”

“Cake?” she exclaimed. “Is that what it is?”

“I was making you a lemon cake. But I got distracted.”

“Good Lord, it looks like the place is on fire.”

He bent down and pulled out of the oven a round tin of what looked like charcoal. “Here it is. Not very appetizing, is it?”

“Not your best,” she said with a smile. “I’m sorry I barged in.”

“You came through the church gate, I assume.”

“Yes. It’s become a habit.”

“It’s a habit I like. I tell you what. Fancy going out for tea?”

She laughed. “I haven’t been out for tea since I was at school and my parents used to take me out on Sundays.”

“Then let’s make a new habit. Let’s go and have a cup of tea and a slice of cake in Oliver’s.”

“I’ve always walked past Oliver’s but never been in.”

“How little you know your own town, Lady Frampton.” He grinned at her. “What shall I do with this?” He held up the smoking cake.

“Oh, it’s a shame to throw it away,” Antoinette joked. “I’d save it for a special occasion.”

“Good idea.” He placed it on the counter. “Now, let me go and change my shirt.”

Oliver’s was steamy, the tables full of damp people who had sought refuge from the rain. They chose a table at the back and ordered. Antoinette found the smell of freshly baked bread and ground coffee comforting. She looked across at Dr. Heyworth and found him comforting, too.

“I went to visit George’s grave,” she told him. “I hadn’t been since the spring. I felt it was time I had a word with him.”

Dr. Heyworth smiled at her kindly. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t know whether he heard anything of what I said to him, but at least I got it off my chest.”

“That’s good.”

“You see, Margaret held on to her resentment for so long it made her sour. I don’t want to turn out like that.”

“You won’t, Antoinette, because you’ll forgive George. There’s nothing else you can do. Resenting him won’t change what he did, nor will it make you feel better; it will just fester and make you miserable. So accept the past, let it go, and move on. That way you won’t allow it to ruin your future.”

“And what of Phaedra, William? What about her?”

Dr. Heyworth registered the anguish in her eyes, anguish that hadn’t been there when she had spoken about George. “You miss her, don’t you?” he asked.

“Very much—and I feel bad for having loathed her like I did. It was unfair of me.”

“You had to go through that process in order to get here. Only time could allow you the perspective.”

“But she’s gone forever.”