The Woman from Paris(32)
“I’m sure she was going to tell you. She telephoned Joshua and Tom. Of course David knew because it was he who drove up to London to invite her and they had dinner.”
“I had to hear it from Roberta. She wants to borrow the Frampton Sapphires for a charity ball at Buckingham Palace in the presence of the Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall. Lovely to think of them being worn in such splendid company. Antoinette has never cared for jewelry, but Roberta loves to sparkle, and I must say she does look very fine in them.” Rosamunde realized that Roberta had failed to tell her that Phaedra had been left those precious family jewels. Margaret sniffed her annoyance. “At least there’s someone in the family prepared to fill me in with the goings-on down here.”
Harris entered with a tray holding two glasses of sherry and a bowl of pistachio nuts. “Where do you think she’s gone?” Margaret asked.
“I imagine she’s found a friend and is having a drink,” said Rosamunde, determined not to show how worried she was.
Margaret looked at her watch. “Well, I have nothing else to do, so I’ll wait.” She sipped her sherry and watched Rosamunde through hooded eyes. Rosamunde sipped hers and stared back. It seemed a long while before the sound of Antoinette’s car was at last heard on the gravel outside.
“Ah, good,” Margaret sighed. “Now she can tell us where she’s been.”
Rosamunde smiled knowingly. “Or not. I’m sure she’ll feel no compulsion to tell us anything.”
7
Margaret and Rosamunde remained in the drawing room as Harris opened the door and Antoinette hastened into the hall. They listened as she patted her dogs and exchanged a few words with the butler. Then she appeared in the doorway suppressing a smile, because there in the armchair was the Dowager Lady Frampton, whom she had gone to such great lengths to avoid.
“Well, you look like the cat that’s got the cream,” said Margaret. “Where have you been? I saw your car parked outside the church, but you were nowhere to be seen.”
“I assumed you’d found a friend and gone to have a drink,” Rosamunde added, not to be outdone.
“I went to see Dr. Heyworth,” Antoinette replied casually, taking a seat beside her sister on the sofa.
“Are you ill?” Margaret asked.
“No, it was a social call.”
Margaret raised her eyebrows. “A social call? With Dr. Heyworth?”
“Yes.” Antoinette was not prepared to disclose any more than that, although it was clear that Margaret expected something of an explanation. There followed a lengthy silence, but Antoinette did not rush to fill it.
“We’ve been waiting for you to come home,” said Margaret.
“If I’d known you were coming, I would have made sure I was back in time,” Antoinette replied. “Perhaps you should call next time.”
“I’ve just been talking to Rosamunde about that girl coming to stay the weekend,” Margaret began.
“Phaedra,” said Rosamunde.
“Roberta told me,” Margaret added, then inhaled through her nostrils to show that she resented being informed by her grandson’s wife.
“I told Margaret you were going to tell her—” Rosamunde began, but Antoinette cut her off briskly.
“I most certainly wasn’t, Rosamunde.” She turned to her mother-in-law. “You made it very clear that you didn’t want anything to do with her, Margaret, and I took you at your word.”
For a moment Margaret didn’t know what to say. She took a long sip of sherry before replying. “You’re right, I don’t want anything to do with her, but if she is my son’s daughter, I think I should at least meet her.”
Antoinette’s heart sank at the thought of Margaret and Roberta cornering Phaedra. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m anxious for her stay to be pleasant.”
“Oh, I insist. I have many questions I wish to ask her.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to launch an inquisition.”
“I’m not going to launch an inquisition, Antoinette. I’m sure you’re as curious as I am. It’s very distressing to think of George keeping such a secret. We need answers.”
“I don’t need any answers at all,” said Antoinette, just to be contrary. “I only want to get to know my stepdaughter. If, in time, she chooses to share things with me, I’ll be happy to listen. But I’m not going to pin her against a wall and demand answers.”
Margaret’s face hardened, and she narrowed her eyes. “My son has left her a fortune in his will—an income which ensures that she never has to work again . . .”