‘Well, she’s a looker but she’s icy,’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘I wouldn’t want to marry her.’
‘I don’t suppose she’d want to marry you, either,’ said Arthur, scanning the tables set up beneath an ancient cedar tree for Victoria sponge cake. ‘Do you think it would be rude to go and have a look at the food?’ he asked.
A butler approached with a tray of drinks. ‘Ah, what have we here?’ Arthur exclaimed, sweeping his eyes over the tray of exotic-looking beverages.
‘Champagne, ginger beer cocktail, sherry, and punch and soda,’ the butler replied politely. ‘If you would prefer tea, Mrs Emerson is serving it under the tree.’
‘I think I’ll have a cocktail,’ said Arthur, helping himself. ‘Grace?’
‘That punch looks lovely,’ she replied, reaching onto the tray. As she did so she caught a glimpse of Rufus over the butler’s shoulder. He was still meeting and greeting the guests, his face aglow with pleasure, as if he really enjoyed shaking hands with the loyal staff who, like an army of ants, kept his father’s great estate in working order. Beside him his frosty fiancée was beginning to wilt in the sunshine. She was barely able to muster a smile and Grace was sure her throat was strained to suppress a yawn.
Suddenly, Rufus lifted his eyes and they locked into Grace’s with a jolt, as if hers had a strange magnetic pull that left him powerless to resist. So surprised was she to be caught watching him that she remained frozen, staring at him with a wide and startled gaze. For a brief, eternal moment, Grace felt the world still around her. There was only Rufus and his dark, enquiring eyes, finding their way into her soul as if they had always known the way.
Then the moment was lost. The people about her sharpened into focus and her father’s voice penetrated her consciousness. ‘Gracey?’ he said. The blood rushed to her cheeks in a flood of embarrassment and with a monumental effort she wrenched her eyes away. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
She took a sip of punch. ‘Shall we go and inspect the tea?’ she suggested, trying to steady the tremor in her voice.
‘Now you’re talking,’ he replied. ‘Freddie? Shall we go and see what’s on offer? I bet they’ll have some mighty good cakes, don’t you?’
The three of them walked across the lawn to the tables. Arthur chuckled with pleasure at the sight of all the cakes and scones and biscuits laid out on pretty china plates. He wandered up and down, shaking his head in astonishment, his cheeks aglow with pleasure.
‘Look at all this!’ Freddie exclaimed. ‘And we’re the first.’
‘Someone has to be,’ said Grace. ‘What’ll you go for?’
‘Chocolate,’ Freddie replied. ‘You?’
‘Coffee.’
‘Let’s share. You have a bit of mine and I’ll have a bit of yours.’
She laughed. ‘You’re a greedy man, Freddie!’
‘Why settle for a taste of one when you can have a taste of two?’
The sight of the three of them at the tables drew others and soon the cakes were surrounded by eager guests, all chatting to one another and commenting on the delicious feast and the delicate beauty of the soon-to-be Countess of Melville. Mrs Emerson, a rotund lady with breasts as large as balloons and hips as wide as the table, merrily talked to everyone, handing out Earl Grey tea in delicate china cups. Arthur had known her since he was a boy growing up in Walbridge and he lingered, sharing a joke or two, while he finished his cake and decided on which spongy treat he’d try next.
The air was infused with perfume as the ladies grew hot in the sun. Grace mingled with Freddie, talking to all those she knew, from the farm labourers who worked with Freddie to cheerless Mr Garner, whom Freddie hoped to supplant one day. Everyone was there. Gardeners and foresters, maids and kitchen staff, butlers and valets. Grace noticed that the Marquess and Marchioness of Penselwood had emerged to mingle. The Marchioness was standing with a couple of smartly dressed ladies Grace didn’t know. They seemed very pleased to be speaking to her, and she was nodding with her head slightly bent, giving them her undivided attention, making them feel that they were the only people on the lawn she wanted to talk to. The Marquess was laughing heartily with Colonel Redwood, whom Grace hadn’t expected to see at the party, and Reverend Dibben, who was at every party. She shared her cake with Freddie, who then went back to the table to grab another slice of the coffee cake. Finding Arthur hovering in front of the Victoria sponge, he was detained for some time chatting with him and Mrs Emerson, who enjoyed cheeky young men like Freddie more than she enjoyed cake.
‘Hello, Little Bee,’ came a voice behind Grace. She turned around to find Rufus standing over her. Her heart gave a startled flutter and she blinked up at him in surprise. ‘How are your furry friends? Not stinging anyone, I hope?’ he asked.
She smiled and blushed. ‘No, they’re quietly going about their business.’
‘Good.’ His eyes took in her features and he seemed surprised by what he saw. ‘It wasn’t so long ago that you were a girl. Look at you now. How time has flown.’
‘Yes,’ she replied, trying to think of something witty to say, but finding nothing but a mind blank with confusion. ‘Congratulations on your engagement,’ she said, remembering she had already congratulated him with her father on arrival.
‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘And you?’ His eyes seemed to dig beneath her skin. ‘Are you spoken for?’
She laughed and pulled a face. ‘No, no, I’m . . .’ She looked over at the table where her father was still engaged in conversation, polishing off a slice of Victoria sponge. ‘I’m still with my father. The two of us against the world.’ Her face softened as she watched him. ‘He likes your cake.’
‘Ah, that’s Mrs Emerson’s department. She’s a terrific cook. If I lived here full time I’d be the size she is.’ He laughed bashfully. ‘That’s awfully rude of me, but when I was a boy her nickname was Lardy.’
Grace put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, that’s awful.’
‘Yes, rather. Still, I’m very fond of the old girl.’
‘How’s your grandmother?’
‘Alive, astonishingly. Every year Mama says will be her last and every year she proves her wrong. If there’s another war, I shall suggest she sign up. Put her on the front line and she’d show those Boche a thing or two.’
Grace looked anxious. ‘Do you really think there will be another war?’
‘I’m afraid Hitler’s pushing for war. He’s increasing his armies. He’s swallowed up Austria and now he looks set to swallow up the Sudetenland as well. I’m afraid it looks certain.’
‘But we’ve only just recovered from the last one,’ she protested.
‘I know, but I don’t think people learn from history.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Human beings are really very stupid, Grace.’
‘Not stupid enough to send young men to their deaths.’
‘They’ve done it before and they’ll do it again and again. It’s all about power, and people will do anything for that, even sacrifice their young men.’
Her eyes clouded with anxiety. ‘Even you?’
His face grew tender and there was something very intimate in the smile he gave her. ‘Would you mind?’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘You’re very sweet, Grace. Really, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as sweet as you.’
She blushed again. ‘Not at all. I’d have a very hard heart if I didn’t care about young men going off to die.’
‘It will happen, but God willing it shall not last as long as the Great War. I shall end my days here at Walbridge, doing what my father has always done and his father before him. Eton, Oxford, Sandhurst; I’ve already ticked those boxes. There’s a rather satisfying sense of continuity in it, though between us, I do dread the monotony. It’s all very predictable. I rather long for twists and turns in my life that haven’t been negotiated at my birth. You know, in a strange way I might even welcome a war. At least it will break up the tedium.�
� He sighed. ‘Still, one can’t complain. I know my future; many people don’t have the luxury of such security.’
‘I can’t think of anything nicer than living in this beautiful place.’
‘You’d hate it, Grace. It’s much too big.’
‘But the gardens . . .’
‘Yes, the gardens, they’re special. Full of bees.’ He grinned. ‘Grandmama’s arthritis improved for a while but then it got bad again. She demanded to see you, but I put her off. I knew you’d be upset at having to send more of your favourite creatures to their deaths.’
‘I would have done it for her. Those poor hands looked so painful.’
‘They’re more claws than hands. I’m surprised she hasn’t come out looking for you.’ He made his hands into claws and pulled a face.
She laughed. ‘You’re wicked, Rufus!’
‘If she knew you were here she’d have you in the borders looking for bees. But she hates people, generally speaking, so a party like this is a nightmare to her. I’m not even sure she’ll make our wedding.’
Grace’s stomach plummeted at the mention of his wedding. ‘When is it?’
‘Next May. It’s a long way away, but Georgie wants to get married when the bluebells are out, and I can’t deny her that. I’ll be taking her away from her home and settling her into a house in London where bluebells never grow.’
‘That’s a lovely time of year to get married.’
‘Yes.’ He suddenly looked sad and his forehead creased into a frown. ‘I sometimes wonder . . .’
At that moment Arthur and Freddie joined them. Arthur was having an exceedingly good time, but Freddie’s face had darkened with irritation and Grace wondered who had offended him.
‘Now your father’s here, I shall leave you and mingle.’ Rufus glanced at Freddie and smiled. ‘It’s not polite to leave a lady standing on her own.’ He moved away and was immediately caught by Mrs Garner and a couple of her heavily powdered friends.
‘What was he on about?’ Freddie demanded.
‘He was asking me about the bees,’ she replied. ‘Reminding me of the time he brought his grandmother to our house.’
‘He remembers you, Gracey,’ said Arthur proudly.
‘Not really,’ she lied. ‘He was just being polite.’
‘I suppose they have to make their way around and talk to everyone,’ said Freddie. ‘He’s right, though, I shouldn’t have left you on your own. It made it impossible for him to move on and talk to someone else.’
‘If Lord Melville had not wanted to talk to me, he would have had no trouble in introducing me to somebody else,’ said Grace, and then she did something very out of character. She walked away. She simply turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. How dare Freddie make her feel small and inadequate all the time, she fumed? Talking to Rufus had given her a sudden burst of confidence. If he could treat her kindly, then so should Freddie. She needn’t put up with spitefulness from anybody, least of all from someone she had known all her life.
As she strode into the throng she felt a surge of triumph. She didn’t look back but she knew her small gesture of defiance would have taken Freddie by surprise, as much as it had surprised her. For a moment she worried about who she was going to talk to – she didn’t want to bump into Lady Georgina – but there, his face beaming with pleasure, was Colonel Redwood.
When it was time to go, Grace was engulfed by a terrible sense of defeat. Rufus was getting married. She might never see him again. He had said he would die here at Walbridge when he was old; he hadn’t mentioned that he’d live here now. He had told her he’d live in London and she assumed he’d remain there until his father died and he inherited the estate. It might be years before she laid eyes on him again. Years and years. She felt a rising desperation in her chest and a tightening sensation in her throat. If she had been alone she might have given in to tears, but as it was she had to smile even though her heart was flagging.
Lord Melville and Lady Georgina were at the gate, shaking hands with the guests as they left. It wasn’t a formal line and some were simply waving and thanking them as they passed. But Grace found herself in front of Rufus once again, alongside Freddie and her father. This time Rufus did not allow his eyes to linger. He said goodbye politely and Lady Georgina told her how delicious the honey was. ‘I’ll make sure Mrs Emerson sends a box of it up to London,’ she said, shaking Grace’s hand with her cold, thin one.
‘I wish you many happy years together,’ said Arthur, now lightheaded and garrulous from the cocktails. ‘I look forward to your return to Walbridge.’
‘So do I,’ said Lady Georgina graciously. ‘You’ll have to keep sending us your honey. It will be nice to have a little bit of Walbridge Hall in Edgerton Place.’ Grace swallowed her despair and moved on through the gate. She was overcome by a wave of sorrow and hurried over to her bike, which was leaning against the house where she had left it. She didn’t say goodbye to Freddie and she didn’t wait for her father. She pedalled hard for home, tears streaming down her face, ruining her make-up and her newfound confidence, now in tatters.
When Arthur arrived at the cottage he found Grace beside the hives, sobbing. ‘Gracey?’ he asked, hurrying over. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’
‘I’m just terribly unhappy,’ she replied.
‘Unhappy? Why?’ He studied her blotchy face in bewilderment.
She was about to blurt out the truth, but something stopped her. A man like Arthur Hamblin would never understand her love for Lord Melville. To him, love between two people of a different class was inconceivable and foolish. She’d discussed Jane Austen with him enough to be sure of that. ‘Freddie was so cruel,’ she said instead.
Arthur’s face softened and he nodded. This was a situation he could deal with. ‘He’s only cruel because he’s sweet on you.’
Grace stared at him, genuinely surprised. ‘Sweet on me?’ she repeated.
‘Can’t you see it? I can. So can May.’ He laughed. ‘In fact, I think everyone can see it but you.’
‘Then why is he so horrid?’
‘Because he’s jealous.’
‘Of who?’
‘Of Lord Melville, of course.’
‘Why would he be jealous of Rufus?’
‘Because he thinks you’ve taken a shine to him.’ Before Grace could protest, he continued. ‘Of course, I know you haven’t. He’s a gentleman and nice girls like you will always admire and respect a gentleman, but Freddie is young and he’s wildly jealous of any other man who goes near you.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I know more than you think. Freddie’s always been like a brother to you, but now you’ve grown into a pretty young woman he’s struggling with his feelings. He’s a man looking at you with a man’s eyes and it’s all very confusing. Of course, it wouldn’t be so confusing if you gave him a little hope.’
‘Hope?’
‘He’d be good for you, Gracey,’ he told her seriously. ‘One day, when Mr Garner retires, he’ll be running the farm. He’s naturally clever and he understands the land with a peasant’s instinct. Besides, everyone likes him. He’s a good lad. You’d do well to marry a man like Freddie, who’ll be able to look after you – and you won’t have to leave Walbridge.’
‘Or you,’ she replied, granting him a small smile.
‘Well, I don’t want you to leave me, Gracey, but you will, one day. It’s natural. You’ll marry and move out and I’ll be left on my own.’
‘Why have you never remarried, Dad? You’re a good-looking man and you’re kind and funny; any woman would be lucky to have you. Besides, you’re not old.’
He shrugged, and then turned his eyes away. ‘I never wanted to replace your mother,’ he replied, resting his hand on the top of the beehive.
‘It wasn’t because of me?’
‘No, you would have thrived with a nice step-mum to look after you.’
‘I like being with you, just the two of us. We’re a team.’
&nbs
p; He grinned. ‘A good team.’
‘If one day I marry, you know I’ll never move far away. I just couldn’t be far away from you, Dad.’
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Gracey. But I’m grateful for the thought.’
He patted her gently. ‘You’re a good girl. Don’t let Freddie upset you. He’s just immature. Maybe you could look at him with different eyes, now that you’re a woman. Life is a long road, and it’s sometimes hard. To choose to travel that road with a man who knows you, understands you and shares the same culture, would be a wise choice indeed.’
‘But what about the breathless, all-consuming love that writers have described over the centuries? Shouldn’t I hold out for that?’
‘Passion doesn’t last, Grace. Look at Vronsky and Anna Karenina. That kind of passion is all part of forbidden love.’
‘Elizabeth Bennet and Darcy, then?’ she suggested instead.
Her father smiled. ‘How dull their lives would have been after marriage. Darcy had no sense of humour. Elizabeth Bennet was much too good for him.’ He looked at her seriously now. ‘What you need is love, of course, but the steady, loyal, constant love of a friend. I think you might already love Freddie, but not know it. Here you are looking over his shoulder when the man for you is standing right in front of your nose.’
‘I’ve never thought of Freddie in that way.’
‘Then I have sown the seed. We don’t need to speak about it any more. I would never push you to marry anyone you didn’t want to marry. But I can guide you. Now, let’s go and let the dog out. We could take him for a walk in the woods, if you like. He could do with a run and I could do with some exercise after all that cake. I’ll tell you about the book I’m reading. I think you’d enjoy it. It’s a wise and uplifting tale.’
That evening, as her father settled into his easy chair and opened his book, Grace’s thoughts wandered to Freddie. She certainly hadn’t guessed that his unkind comments were made out of jealousy. Freddie as a suitor had never entered her mind. Freddie as a husband was even more inconceivable, but it was a sobering thought. Was that all she could hope for? She recalled Rufus’s comment about the monotony of his predictable life and she realized that she knew what he meant. Predictable, for her, was to marry Freddie. She’d spend the rest of her life in Walbridge. Their children would be born here and grow up here and she’d end up in the village cemetery like those who had lived the same sheltered life and died before her. It was a lonely thought and the more she dwelt on it, the lonelier she became. But what was the alternative? To live a life dreaming of a man she could never have? It was over. She had to erase Rufus from her heart or there would never be space for anyone else, and the thought of a life without love was unbearable.
The Beekeeper's Daughter A Novel Page 13