The Sweetness of Liberty James

by Janey Lewis

  ‘I think I would rather court you in private.’ Pompous or romantic? wondered Liberty. Was he homophobic, or was it just an aversion to double dates, which she happened to share. She agreed to meet him the next Saturday at REDS, a bistro run by a Russian who shouted at the customers and thrust vodka shots down their throats, but who cooked the most sublime veal in white wine and sage, and who was known as one of the best chefs in Cambridge. Percy had taken note of Liberty’s parentage but not that she could neither taste nor smell what she was eating. However, she was flattered that he wanted to take her to such a grown-up establishment, and she could appreciate attractive food as well as the next person.

  Percy appeared to be the essence of charm and a fine example of a perfect gentleman. He ordered two glasses of Sauternes to accompany the sautéed foie gras. The plates were accompanied by twists of toasted caraway-seeded black bread. Liberty politely sipped the wine, enjoying its honey texture, and she could see the liver was cooked to perfection: slightly crisp on the outside, soft and yielding within. But her principles about well-raised and fairly treated livestock, not only important for the animals but also for the taste of the meat, according to her father, who refused to use crated or caged animals, led her stomach to tighten and she only took a few bites.

  However, manners prevailed and she didn’t complain to Percy. For their main course he had ordered a whole turbot, albeit a small one, between them. It came accompanied by tiny pieces of roast beetroot and a sour cream chive sauce.

  Over dessert of blackcurrant kissel, Liberty realised she had thoroughly enjoyed his company. He was interesting, his knowledge of art and books was extensive and he was well-travelled. His parents had seemingly been very indulgent, taking him to France, Italy and the States, and also to various countries in the Middle East. This was mostly to follow his father, who travelled professionally. She wept openly when he told her his sister had tragically drowned at only nine years of age, in the pond on the family estate. A horrific accident, caused by unknown underlying health issues, and which no one could have foreseen but his mother blamed herself, had the pond filled in and covered with rose bushes because the girl’s name was Elizabeth Rose. But nowadays she was barely mentioned.

  ‘I’m impressed that your father works at his bank. I thought most privately owned banks were run by the City lot nowadays,’ said Liberty, genuinely interested.

  ‘Oh, he always insisted that we are new money and must work to show the difference between us and the lazy upper classes,’ laughed Percy. ‘I’ll be expected to spend my days there after my time here.’

  ‘Don’t you want to do something connected with art?’

  ‘Yes, in an ideal world, but as it’s a family bank, I really have no option. Being their only child I do feel a certain responsibility.’ Percy shrugged, seemingly with a typical English lack of ego. He appeared to be close to both of his parents, and to love them deeply and visit them often. They had a home in London so he could overnight there when partying in town.

  ‘Maybe over the Christmas break I could bring them to your father’s restaurant and they could meet?’

  ‘Gosh, that sounds serious! Do you think we will last that long?’ laughed Liberty. It was only October.

  ‘I think so, don’t you?’ asked Percy, raising a quizzical eyebrow in a disarmingly attractive and naughty way.

  During the meal Percy had noted how Liberty took little wine, and ate only small amounts. She definitely fancies me, he thought smugly, but wasn’t surprised. He was a good catch, after all. He appreciated her shiny conker brown hair and her gleaming green eyes, her smooth ivory skin. Her shapely but slim figure that he had admired at the art gallery was shown off to its best effect tonight in a clinging Hervé Léger jersey dress that looked as though the designer had taken hold of some beautiful bandages in silver grey and wrapped them round her like a mummy, only stopping to make sure her breasts were pushed up becomingly like snow moguls. He appreciated beauty whether it was on canvas or a human being, and he realised he had found a rarity. Not only was she well-educated and widely read, she was kind, compassionate and uncommonly thoughtful.

  He admired the way she subtly pointed to her shoes to indicate to some poor unfortunate woman she had loo roll stuck under hers when she came out of the ladies’. Most girls he knew were only too pleased to see another attractive female embarrass herself. She spoke warmly of her family but didn’t push their fame, didn’t seem interested in fame herself and looked altogether very down to earth. A little lost in life, perhaps; she had no idea what she wanted to do after university apart from helping others, but as he told her, what good comes of giving too much of one’s self before one knows who oneself is? That was no obstacle in a wife, though, for wasn’t he looking for someone he could guide and shape to his needs?

  And Liberty, if he was honest, was who he was looking for. He was too young, he knew, to marry now, but he was ambitious and wise enough to know already that behind every great man is an enabling wife. What luck to have found such a perfect girl, what a relief. Now he could stop hunting and start enjoying life. And gosh, she was someone he could grow to enjoy!

  Percy did not see himself as callous, merely realistic. Being an only child, son and heir, he had a heavy weight of duty on his shoulders; not only a family bank that would some day be run by him, but also a vast family home and land, reminding him of his family’s presence. If he could make Liberty happy, they could marry when they were ready and produce future heirs. Though even the thought of babies repulsed him now, he knew it was expected.

  Liberty was entranced. Percy set about courting her in earnest. Over the next few months a weekly display of scented flowers arrived at her door. (J-T told her this. He knew that Liberty couldn’t smell them, and scented roses cost a lot more than average.) He took her punting, followed by a prearranged picnic. They were both popular students and between them were invited to a great many parties. Liberty was on the student board, arranging several of the balls for the following summer, and was so ablaze with love and lust she booked them a table at one to include some of their mutual best friends, despite the ball being a good six months away.

  Percy did rowing and was on the debating team. Liberty helped with routing charitable donations to a local premature baby unit in a well-known hospital, and their first term swept by.

  Deirdre, having heard lots about Percy during her weekly chats with her daughter, was eager to meet him and encouraged Liberty to invite him for a weekend if they could find a free one over the Christmas vacation.

  Their first kiss was planned to perfection. Percy took her to a bar which they could walk home from, and he wrapped his jacket around her to protect her from the chilly December air. He pulled her to him, and they kissed. Liberty didn’t feel butterflies in her tummy, but she assumed that must only happen in romantic novels, and she was swept away by his physical strength and assuredness.

  A few days later, Liberty phoned her mother. ‘Percy would love for his family to come to The Dark Horse, or lunch at yours, to meet both you and Daddy.’

  ‘Um, well,’ said Deirdre, imagining Alain storming out into the restaurant from his kitchen, knife in hand, demanding to know who dared entice him from his lair and scaring the bejesus out of Percy. ‘I think it would be fine to introduce him to Alain, but perhaps it would be best to invite him here.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s time you saw Daddy again? It’s been years.’

  ‘Maybe not the occasion to do it though, darling,’ said Deirdre, thinking how stressful it could be, as she and Alain might have a row in front of the prospective in-laws. ‘I just can’t imagine the Cholmondly-Radleys would like to sit down between the human equivalents of Israel and Palestine building bread walls and throwing Exocet sausages at each other.’

  No, maybe not, thought Liberty. So she arranged to go to The Dark Horse for lunch with Percy and his parents, then on to afternoon tea at her mother’s home.

  ‘I’m not sure it’s the best place f
or you to meet my father,’ she worried out loud to Percy, wringing her hands together as he drove her down the A21 towards Fickledown, the pretty village where her father’s restaurant nestled into a cosy meadow set in a Wealden valley.

  ‘Why not? We know how good his food is, and I’m sure he will be thrilled to meet my parents, as they will become even more regular visitors.’

  Alain surprised them all by coming over to meet them.

  ‘Daddy! How lovely!’ No carving knife to be seen, no chef whites.

  ‘I thought it would be better to get to know your young man if I sat and ate with you,’ said Alain with a twinkle in his eye. He took Liberty through the portico to a charming reception resembling a domestic hall, with a round mahogany table in the centre atop an intricate Turkish carpet. There were bowls of fresh flowers set on side tables, and a large sofa in front of the fire which was crackling in a comfortable, cosy way. There was also a ceiling-high Christmas tree, its branches bent low with baubles.

  A small door to one side of the fireplace was slightly ajar. It appeared to lead into an under-stair cupboard, and indeed it was exactly that, but it held a small desk with a computer on it, and out popped Gary the manager, who held together The Dark Horse and was the ballast between the stormy chef patron and his clients.

  ‘Good afternoon, and a warm welcome to you, sir,’ he said to Percy, and he gave Liberty a bear hug. He had known her since she was a young child. At that moment the Cholmondly-Radleys entered the reception, and Alain greeted them by name. Charmed to be remembered, the rather stern, beautifully made-up face of Mrs Cholmondly-Radley broke into a delighted smile. ‘And there’s my darling boy,’ she exclaimed, reaching out with both hands for Percy, who, understanding the invitation, went over to his mother, guiding Liberty by the arm while whispering in her ear, ‘This is going rather well already.’ Then out loud he added, ‘Mother, Father, this is Liberty.’

  Percy’s family, the Cholmondly-Radleys (pronounced ‘Chumly-Radleys’), had owned a huge pile in East Sussex for the last ninety years. It had been purchased by Percy’s great-grandfather, eager to try the lifestyle he thought should go with owning your own bank, trying his hand at hunting, shooting and fishing, and giving up quickly when he realised that the reason the upper classes had the time to enjoy all these pursuits was simple: they didn’t need to work and they didn’t feel the cold. Percy and his parents spent most of their time at their home in London, as Anstley Hall was freezing in winter and terrifically gloomy in summer. They were a sociable family, preferring the art gallery openings, restaurants and parties of the capital city to the hunting and shooting of their ancestral castle.

  ‘Delighted to meet you, my dear,’ said Mr CR, his highly coloured cheeks turning even pinker. He looked rather like a deer hound, with bushy brindle eyebrows and long legs encased in tweed. Liberty imagined he was wagging his tail, as he seemed very jolly. ‘Call me Cecil,’ he beamed.

  Isabelle, his wife, was slightly more guarded. A bit like a terrier, not sure whether to bite or delight, she simply shook Liberty’s hand and announced she was thrilled to meet both Liberty and Alain.

  Before any awkward silence could prevail, Gary suggested they took drinks in the drawing room whilst perusing the menu.

  Alain had arranged for champagne to be served, and he left them to have a drink while he checked the kitchen hadn’t collapsed without him.

  Liberty settled herself in a comfortable sofa next to Cecil. He was entertaining and charming, making everyone laugh and putting Liberty at ease. Despite her rather bland appearance, Isabelle was extremely interesting, well-educated and doing her best to be pleasant, which Liberty realised she considered was her job as mother of their only son and heir. She was obviously a delightful woman, and she and her husband made a warm and happy couple.

  As many a child of divorced parents, Liberty loved the feeling of security and solidity that happily married parents seemed to ooze. She realised she was enjoying herself and felt that Percy had given her a fabulous Christmas present; an extended family. She felt more in love with him than ever, and loved glancing over to where he sat in a large checked armchair looking relaxed, elbows resting on the arms, head back, with a big smile on his face.

  This was what Alain saw as he re-entered the drawing room, having established that the kitchen was managing somehow without him. Smug was the word that flashed through his brain. He looks like a smug, handsome toad that has been kissed by the princess. My princess. He supposed the romance would be short-lived, so tried to be as pleasant as possible.

  Liberty, however, knew her father very well, and picked up quickly through small gestures and comments he made that he was less than charmed, unlike everyone else including the waitress, who blushed sweetly when Percy touched her forearm while asking if she would kindly top up his mother’s glass.

  Liberty merely assumed Alain was being protective. She was convinced that when he knew Percy better he would be as bowled over as she was.

  Of course, the lunch was excellent. They enjoyed a light tasting menu; small portions of delicately cooked fish, meat and vegetables set off by fragrant sauces, followed by a selection of local cheeses, and at the end a trio of pears for dessert: one, a poached pear set on a see-through thin slice of crisp sweet puff pastry with the pear’s syrup reduced to a sticky sauce; two, a tiny pear almond sponge, as light as air, on a puddle of crème anglaise; the third a pear and nutmeg sorbet.

  ‘Amazing,’ pronounced Isabelle. ‘Normally after a tasting menu I can barely breathe, but I feel I could even manage the petit fours that I know come with coffee.’

  Alain puffed out his chest visibly at the compliment and took Isabelle’s arm as they went into the conservatory for coffee and Armagnac. Isabelle was delighted to have been recognised by friends who had been looking over admiringly at their table, and who then trapped her in the ladies’ and asked how she had managed to get the notoriously reticent Alain James to dine with them. ‘Isn’t he just gorgeous?’ they gushed. She was feeling rather frivolous after more than two glasses of wine. She found Liberty charmingly innocent and utterly beautiful, and had surprised herself by liking the girl, who chatted eloquently and entertainingly. She was thrilled her son had found such a suitable mate, and admitted to Alain she had been worried Percy would fall for some new-age hippy at university, who would persuade him to become vegetarian and smoke dope rather than knuckle down and study for a good degree.

  ‘Oh,’ responded Alain, ‘I think he knows exactly what he wants.’

  The afternoon tea at Deirdre’s home was somewhat less successful. Although she knew they would have eaten well at The Dark Horse, Deirdre couldn’t help herself and had prepared a full high tea, with tiny sandwiches and quiches, scones, clotted cream, angels on horseback, black pudding brioche, sausage rolls and a blackberry sponge cake.

  As they all stood around in Deirdre’s sitting room chatting amiably, she thought she must have left a CD playing because they all looked as if they were swaying to music. She suddenly twigged that they were shuffling about, attempting to make room for the huge spread laid out on the nearby coffee table, precariously balanced on the vast array of books and magazines that she hadn’t bothered to clear. Deirdre was considering how killing her prospective son-in-law by over-feeding him on their first meeting would go down when her exuberant Labrador, Dijon, took matters into his own paws. When Isabelle opened the wrong door to the hall the dog, delighted to be invited in, albeit accidentally, with one smooth tail movement swept all the sandwiches and quiches off the tiered cake stands and on to the floor, where he happily wolfed down the lot. Nobody attempted to stop him, and the relief was evident.

  Deirdre was very taken by the jolly Mr CR, who had enjoyed a nap on the drive over, and the handsome, chiselled face of Percy, who in his tailored suit looked nothing like the snotty student she had envisaged. Isabelle was looking at Dijon as though he were a yellow Hermès Birkin. She announced to Cecil it was high time they replaced old Mouse, who had di
ed the previous year.

  ‘Every home needs a dog,’ she said firmly. Deirdre decided at once they were her sort of people, and told Liberty so the next day on the phone. Liberty, knowing that dogs were everything to her mother, resisted telling her that Percy hated pets of any sort, but was thrilled that she approved, when Alain had so obviously not.

  More surprising, then, when after years without contact, a letter arrived for Deirdre from Alain saying that if things became serious between their daughter and Percy then he would like to step in, as he thought there was something amiss with the relationship. But as Deirdre now had so little respect for his views on love and relationships she didn’t respond.

  After their final year at university, Percy proposed to Liberty, offering her his grandmother’s emerald engagement ring. Her mother’s only comment was, ‘Emeralds? Aren’t they supposed to be unlucky, darling?’ But by now Liberty was used to her mother’s scepticism where marriage was concerned. He proposed after a long day’s drinking and watching his pals playing cricket. (‘Sorry, sorry, can’t let the boys down, but I had put today aside to ask you to marry me, so stop making a fuss, just say yes.’) And that was that.

  Deirdre hosted a large engagement party and after their white wedding in the local church their reception was held in her garden in 1998, where they were surrounded by 250 family and friends.

  Tatler’s Bystander pronounced it the wedding attended by everyone who was anyone, and the most elegant of the year. Thankfully, the bride was so utterly beautiful in her Neil Cunningham gown that she managed to outshine all the lords, ladies, dukes, duchesses and the odd rock and film star in attendance.

  4

  Liberty and Percy were both beautiful people, willing academics and admired by their peers, and they were happy to be together from their first meeting. Undoubtedly, there was an intense sexual attraction, but they could both relax knowing their parents’ fame and money were not the only reasons they had come together. After Percy came down from Trinity he went straight into the family bank. No thought had ever been given to his doing anything else. He settled into his office nicely and charmed the staff, something that came very easily to him. Within his first month they stopped muttering behind his back about the ‘unfairness of it all, sliding into a post he hadn’t worked for, posh toff’. Instead, he became one of the boys, able to drink his colleagues under the table (and pay the bill) and get to work on time the following day. He also ran the Boys’ Club, a private drinking club that anyone could join, as long as they were useful socially or had enough money to keep up.