The Beekeeper's Daughter A Novel

by Santa Montefiore

  She cut him off. ‘It’s OK, Jasper. It’s water under the bridge. Really.’

  ‘Not for me, it isn’t. Regret isn’t something one can throw off so easily. It ate me up on the inside.’

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be,’ she told him, trying to be philosophical when she really wanted to throw herself against him and tell him how he had ruined love for her, because she hadn’t been able to love anyone else since.

  ‘I don’t believe in fate. We make our own lives,’ he argued. ‘We make mistakes and we live to regret them. If I’d married you, Trixie, I wouldn’t be standing here wishing I had done things differently. I wouldn’t be unhappy.’

  She reached out and touched his arm. ‘Let’s walk,’ she suggested, turning away and allowing the wind to sweep away her tears.

  They began to walk slowly, side by side, with the bracing wind at their backs. Jasper collected himself by standing tall with his shoulders back. The effort he made to control his feelings made Trixie want to cry all the more. ‘So tell me,’ he began. ‘What’s this about your parents living in Walbridge?’

  ‘They both grew up here,’ Trixie began. ‘They married in your little church and my dad worked on the farm and Mom was the beekeeper. She worked with your gardener, Mr Heath, during the war. Then they left for America.’

  ‘And you never knew?’

  ‘They never told me. They never spoke of their past. I’ve only just found out.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I found a box of love letters in my mother’s garden shed, addressed to her in Walbridge. They weren’t from Dad,’ she added gravely.

  ‘Oh, God. They were from another man.’

  ‘Yes. She had an affair at the beginning of the war.’

  ‘Do you know who with?’

  She braced herself, not sure whether she was doing the right thing in telling him. ‘Your father,’ she replied.

  Jasper stopped walking. ‘My father?’ He looked horror-struck.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, hunching her shoulders defensively. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘There was only one Earl of Melville, right?’

  He nodded. ‘Good God. Papa and your mother? What a twist of fate.’

  ‘I know, it was a shock for me, too.’

  ‘It’s extraordinary.’ He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. ‘I suppose one never really knows one’s parents.’

  ‘I’ve learned that the hard way,’ said Trixie.

  ‘How long did it go on for?’

  ‘About two years, I think. The letters are very sweet. If they weren’t to my mother from her lover I’d find them really romantic’

  ‘When did it end?’

  ‘It’s unclear. But he stops writing to her at the end of 1942. Her last letter is dated March 1943. I know that because he returned all her letters after the war.’

  ‘Why did he do that?’

  ‘My father saved your father’s life in Africa, according to your mother. I assume he realized he couldn’t cuckold a man who had taken a bullet for him, so he did the right thing. He ended it. To be honest, I don’t think my mother’s ever got over it.’

  ‘Did she tell you?’

  ‘No, I’m not even sure my father knows. Mom certainly doesn’t know that I know. I read her letters by chance. She doesn’t even know I’m here.’

  ‘So, you came to Walbridge in search of your parents’ past?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. But as the word came out she realized that, in truth, she had come here in search of Jasper.

  They walked on in silence, Jasper absorbing the revelation of his father’s affair, Trixie recognizing at last that the Jasper-shaped hole in her heart could only ever be filled by him, and no one else. The wind slipped between them and the distance could have been as wide as a canyon for the sudden loneliness that engulfed her, and the realization that she would always be alone.

  ‘Jasper, Mom’s got cancer,’ she said, giving in to the need to share. Yielding to the need to be comforted.

  ‘Oh, Trixie, I’m so sorry.’

  The sympathy in his voice brought tears to her eyes again. ‘I don’t think she’s got long. That’s why I wanted to find out why your father returned her letters and what happened to him. Her final letters to him, begging for reassurance that he was still alive and still loving her, are desperate.’

  He took her hand in his large rough one as if it belonged there. ‘You’re not OK, are you?’

  ‘Not really.’ She felt immediately soothed by the warmth of his hand. ‘But I’ll be fine. I’ll get through this.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, I’ve only recently discovered my mother again after years of living in New York. She’s my best friend. We share so much. Until I discovered the letters, I didn’t realize just how much.’

  ‘Do you think your parents knew who I was?’ Jasper asked.

  ‘Yes, and they weren’t happy about it. I remember they said people like you always marry your own sort and that you wouldn’t honour your promise. Mom knew more than I realized.’

  ‘Papa gave nothing away, but that’s no surprise. An affair isn’t something one shouts about, is it? I doubt Mother knew. They had a good marriage, as far as I recall.’

  ‘I’m certain your mother never knew. She’d hardly have been so welcoming to me had she known. She told me how grateful she was that Dad took that bullet and saved Rufus’s life. I don’t think she’d have been so thankful had she known about those letters.’

  Jasper chuckled. ‘How did you introduce yourself?’

  ‘Beatrix. Would Trixie have given me away?’

  ‘Absolutely. She was adamant that I shouldn’t marry you. She wouldn’t have recognized the name Beatrix, but she would have jumped at the name Trixie.’

  ‘How lucky, then, that I chose to be formal. She’s a formal-looking woman, isn’t she?’

  ‘She’s made of steel.’ He sighed bitterly. ‘In the end I caved. I thought she was probably right. You’d have hated this life. You’re a free spirit, not a lady of the manor labouring under good works and duty.’

  Trixie stopped walking and gazed up at him in frustration. ‘Then what are you, if not a free spirit? You should be wandering the globe with your voice and your guitar, not stuck here in corduroy and tweed, running a grand estate.’

  ‘It was my duty.’

  ‘What is this word “duty”? Duty to what? To a pile of old bricks? You’re a man of flesh and blood, Jasper, and one day you’re not going to be around any more. You have to live for yourself, too.’

  He groaned, as if he laboured under the impossible burden of family and responsibility. ‘I have three children and a wife. I have tied myself to Walbridge. I am committed and for the life of me I can’t imagine how I can ever leave.’

  A spark of hope ignited in Trixie’s heart. ‘You want to leave?’

  ‘I’m miserable, Trixie. I was in a dark place before you arrived to shine a beacon of hope. You’re like a lighthouse I can see in the distance but can’t get to. You’ve always been there, far away, shining through the gloom, and as hard as I paddle I just can’t reach you.’

  With that he bent down and kissed her ardently, as he had done in Tekanasset when they were young and free and bursting with ambition. Trixie responded urgently, and the years that had dragged by in loneliness and longing evaporated like a dream. She wound her arms around his neck, inhaled the familiar scent of him and knew then what her mother had also known, that love isn’t something that wears out or disintegrates with the passing of the years, but something that glows forever like an eternal sun.

  Chapter 25

  Jasper pulled away. He cupped Trixie’s face in his hands and gazed lovingly at her features, as if he were slowly remembering the kisses and caresses shared on those windy Tekanasset beaches. His expression had softened. Gone was the tension in his jaw and the strain on his forehead, and his eyes were no longer dark with unhappiness but brig
ht, reflecting the light in hers – the lighthouse he had reached at last.

  ‘What a fool I was to let you go,’ he murmured, smiling with joy now that they were miraculously reunited.

  She placed her hands on top of his and returned his smile. ‘I never stopped loving you, Jasper.’

  ‘Really? Do you mean that?’

  ‘I do.’ She shrugged. ‘I tried to move on, but no one compared to you.’

  ‘Oh, Trixie,’ he groaned. ‘If I’d known then what I know now I would never have listened to my mother. I’d have believed my own heart.’

  ‘I never imagined you’d be unhappy.’

  ‘Lottie is not a bad person. We’re just ill suited. On paper we were well matched because we had grown up together. Our parents were great friends and she was bred to run a big estate. But in reality she would have been better off marrying my brother. Like Edward, she hasn’t an artistic bone in her body and loves horses more than people. The truth is, Mama persuaded me that I needed her – and I did need her, in the beginning. She took over the running of the place, and as Marchioness of Penselwood she was without fault, but as my wife she was desperately lacking. We never loved each other, you see. I didn’t think it mattered. I thought we would be a team. I believed we’d be great friends. But we’re not even friends any more.’ He squeezed her hands. ‘I’ve lost myself over the years, Trixie. I’ve become someone else entirely. I look into your eyes and see the reflection of the boy I once was. I see the man I thought I’d become. But instead I’ve become this conventional old bore.’ He withdrew his hands and turned to face the sea. The wind swept his hair off his forehead, revealing the disenchantment in his profile. ‘I’ve become my father. He became his. There’s no way of breaking the pattern destiny imposes on us all.’

  Trixie laughed softly at his self-indulgence. ‘Of course you can break the pattern. You can be whoever you want to be, Jasper.’

  ‘No, I can’t. I have duties and responsibilities as Marquess of Penselwood.’

  ‘It’s a name and a position, but it doesn’t prevent you from being the person you want to be. You could start playing the guitar again.’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Jasper,’ she exclaimed, ‘you’re not a puppet on a string. You are your own person. Get your guitar out and write a song. If you’re miserable it’ll be the best song you’ve ever written!’

  He smiled at her efforts to cajole him out of his melancholy and took her hand. ‘You’re right. I’ve allowed myself to wallow in self-pity.’ He led her back down the beach towards the path that snaked up the cliff. ‘I wanted to fulfil my duty, Trixie. I wanted to make my mother proud. I was aware I was less qualified than Edward, who had studied at agricultural college, worked here with Papa and consequently knew how to manage a big estate. No one thought I could do it. I was the wild card. I wanted to prove everyone wrong. I wanted to do it right.’ He glanced at her, and his eyes smouldered with regret. ‘Pride,’ he stated resentfully. ‘It was pride that motivated me. Pride that inspired me to marry Lottie. Pride that made me give up the one person I really loved.’

  ‘Lottie has given you children. Don’t regret your marriage. You have a family. That counts for a lot.’

  ‘But you!’ He gripped her hand. ‘I’ve denied you a family. God, how I wish it were you in Lottie’s place . . .’

  ‘I’m not bitter, Jasper. I’ve had a fascinating working life. I’ve had opportunities, too, to settle down. If I really wanted children, I could have married and raised a family. I chose not to. My choice, not yours. No one forced me to live like this. I’ve actually enjoyed my life. I didn’t want to settle for second best. If I couldn’t have you, I didn’t want anybody else. That’s the truth, but it doesn’t mean I’ve been living a life of denial. I haven’t. I’ve had good times.’

  ‘I wish I had been part of those good times.’

  ‘I wish you had been, too. I think my mother has pined for your father for years; that’s why she kept the letters in a secret box in the garden shed. That’s why she collapsed in tears when I told her he had died. I realize that now. The past is beginning to make sense. I think her longing for Rufus has damaged her marriage,’ she reflected wistfully. ‘I used to think Dad was unfairly remote and unaffectionate.

  Now I wonder whether he didn’t feel remoteness and coldness from her. It’s not healthy to pine, Jasper. If Mom has taught me anything, she’s taught me that. We have to let the past go and live in the moment, otherwise we don’t live, we just dream.’

  ‘I can let the past go now you’re here,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘That’s cheating.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ He swung her round to kiss her again. ‘I’m living in the moment now and it’s good enough for me.’

  A while later they drove back towards Walbridge. The light was fading, with dark clouds gathering above them, greedily eating the last remains of pale blue sky. ‘I want to see you tomorrow,’ Jasper said seriously.

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ Trixie hesitated.

  ‘You can’t go back to New York now!’ he exclaimed. She knew he was right. Everything had changed. She couldn’t leave and pretend that things were as before.

  ‘I don’t know what to do.’ She gazed helplessly at the darkening sky.

  ‘I’ll take you to meet my grandmother,’ he suggested. ‘She might be able to shed some light on Papa’s affair with your mother. Although we’ll have to tread carefully; she’s a different generation. I’ll pick you up in the morning.’

  She looked at him anxiously. ‘Is this wise, Jasper?’

  ‘You said you wanted to know why Papa returned her letters.’

  ‘I know why. It was a matter of honour. Soldier to soldier. That makes sense.’

  ‘I still think you should talk to Grandma. She might know something more.’ He glanced back at her and she noticed the panic in his eyes. ‘I want to see you again, Trixie. You can’t leave . . .’

  She took his hand across the gearbox. ‘OK. I’ll come and meet your grandmother.’

  His shoulders dropped. ‘Good. I’ll pick you up at nine. Is that OK for you?’

  ‘That’s OK. What will you tell Lottie?’

  ‘I’ll tell her the truth. That I met an old friend and am taking her to see Grandma. She’ll think nothing of it.’

  ‘I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘That means we have a day all to ourselves.’

  Trixie felt her throat constrict. ‘One day,’ she said.

  ‘One day? Two days? You don’t have to leave.’

  She shook her head. ‘I have a life to get back to, Jasper.’

  He gripped the steering wheel. ‘I’ll pick you up at nine.’

  Trixie couldn’t face dinner in the pub, talking to Robert, so she found a small Italian restaurant on the high street and ate there at a table by the window. It had started to drizzle. She watched the raindrops slide down the glass in wiggly trails. Occasionally the bright lights of a car turned them to gold. She ate her pizza half-heartedly. Seeing Jasper had given her a high, like a sniff of the drugs she used to take, and now she felt the pain of withdrawal. Was the thrill of his kiss worth the agony of knowing it couldn’t last? She had got used to being on her own, but Jasper had reminded her of what it felt like to be in the arms of the man she loved. The comparison only emphasized the hollowness of the many relationships she had had over the years. The life she had lived was reduced to a sham and she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to it. A small part of her wished she had never come, because what had been acceptable before was now intolerable in the light of their reunion. Nothing would ever be the same again, because the same wasn’t good enough.

  She drained her glass of Pinot Grigio and paid the bill. Hugging her coat around her, she walked back up the high street towards the lane that led to the inn and the river beyond. She should leave, she thought, before she got in too deep. Before it became too hard to extricate herself. She didn’t want to break up h
is family. However miserable he was with his wife, she didn’t want that on her conscience. In which case, there was no point in staying. She couldn’t have Jasper. They could never be together. Seeing him had only reminded her of what she lacked. She’d return to her life in New York and try to get over him, just as she had done nearly two decades before. Having climbed to the summit of an emotional mountain, she had slid right back to the bottom. How would she even manage the first few steps?

  She returned to the Fox and Goose and crept up the stairs to her room without being seen. She didn’t feel like talking to Maeve or Robert. She didn’t feel like talking at all. As she climbed into bed and switched out the light she thought of Grace, and her heart flooded with compassion. If her mother had pined for Rufus as she was now pining for Jasper she must have suffered indeed.

  Loneliness engulfed her and she gave in to the longing and the unbearable sense of defeat. Hugging her pillow, she cried for herself and for her mother, realizing that, because she had been so fixated on herself, she didn’t really know Grace, the woman, at all.

  The following morning she awoke with a nervous feeling in her stomach. She knew she should leave before Jasper arrived at nine, but as much as she knew what was right, she was unable to comply. Her heart eclipsed her head and she was powerless. Instead of packing her suitcase, she applied some make-up and allowed the anticipation to smother her doubt.

  She took her breakfast in the little dining room, where Maeve brought her coffee and toast. She was almost too anxious to eat. ‘So, are you having a nice stay, dear?’ Maeve asked. ‘Shame about the weather. Yesterday was lovely but we’re paying for it today.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I’m having a very nice time,’ Trixie replied blandly, not wanting to engage the woman in conversation.

  ‘I hope Joan was able to enlighten you on your relations. She’s a lovely woman, Joan.’

  ‘Yes, she was very interesting.’

  Maeve leaned on the back of the chair as if she intended to be there a while. ‘She’s worked for Lady P. for years. They’re more like mother and daughter than employer and employee. She’s having a terrible time at the moment, though, poor dear. Lady P. is intent on arranging her own funeral. Well, I suppose at her age it could come at any time, couldn’t it? Joan doesn’t want to think about that. She’s very fond of the old lady.’