“She’s just jealous, Rosamunde. Phaedra’s far more beautiful and charming than she is.”
“And she’s blood.”
“Yes, she’s blood. I still find it hard to get my head around that. It’s astonishing to think that all those years she grew up not knowing that George was her father. And George never knew he had a daughter.”
“It’s not a surprise that he loved her instantly. There’s something vulnerable about her, don’t you think?”
“Yes, she rather makes me want to mother her. I could have killed Roberta when she started firing questions at her. It’s as if she’s desperate to expose her as a fraud.”
“A DNA test has been done, and that’s final. Roberta’s not going to find anything there.”
“It’s all about money, I’m afraid,” said Antoinette with a sigh. “She came into the family with nothing and was suddenly very rich. She’s lucky we’re not questioning her motives for marrying Josh.”
“Perhaps her suspicions about Phaedra reveal more about herself than she realizes.”
“Yes, I hadn’t thought of that.”
Antoinette watched Harris place the tray of coffee on the low table in front of her. “Now, I wonder whether Roberta will come down again, or whether we’ve seen the last of her for tonight.”
* * *
Phaedra was a gifted bridge player. Tom was happy to partner her when he realized how cunning she was. They won without any difficulty and laughed all the way through the postmortem. Phaedra sipped peppermint tea and recalled wistfully how it was George who had taught her to play during a three-day stopover at Annapurna base camp when they were held back due to bad weather. Climbing would never be the same now that George was dead. That chapter of her life had closed forever.
David watched Phaedra across the table. The more he got to know her, the more he admired her, and every now and then, when those astonishing gray eyes locked into his, he sensed that she admired him, too. There was something intimate in the way she looked at him, as if their dinner in London was a secret they shared. He wanted her all to himself, but she was Joshua and Tom’s sister, too. By the nature of her birth she belonged to the three of them equally. However, David couldn’t help but feel superior, for she was coming back to his house that night, and he would take her off and show her around the estate in the morning. She had asked him to look after her, and he was going to do everything in his power to do exactly that.
Roberta did not appear again. Joshua retired upstairs soon after their bridge game had ended, and Antoinette and Rosamunde went to bed a little later. Tom, David, and Phaedra sat around the fire sharing stories, laughing at jokes, and Tom opened another bottle of claret.
It was well past one when David drove Phaedra through the park to his home. It was only a ten-minute walk from the main house, but it was too dark to walk across the field. Phaedra stared out of the window as they drove along the farm tracks and savored the intensity of the country night. The moon was a bright crescent, the sky as black as ink, the stars twinkling like tiny chips of broken glass. In the city the stars were barely visible and the sky never turned this deep velvet color. “Oh, I do love the countryside,” she said with a yawn.
“You’re ready for bed.”
“I know. It’s been a lovely evening, David. I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with your family.”
“Our family,” he reminded her.
“It’s going to take a while for me to feel that I really belong.”
“I’m sorry about Roberta.”
“Don’t be. She’s unhappy about my suddenly horning in.”
“You’re not horning in, Phaedra. You’re a Frampton.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”
“I know, like Ratty.” They both laughed. Then David grew serious again. “Roberta can be very mean-spirited.”
“It’s understandable that she’s suspicious. She thinks I’m an opportunist, slipping into your family to steal all your money.” She looked at him steadily. “I’m not interested in George’s money, David. I’m not going to touch it.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s yours.”
“No, it isn’t. You’re very kind, and I’m grateful for your support. But really, I don’t want the money. I earn my own living, and I’m happy with my life. I’m not acquisitive. I have simple tastes. George was way too rash, including me in his will out of guilt . . .” She paused and stared out of the window. “He shouldn’t have done it . . . and perhaps, had he lived, he might have changed it back.”