The Sweetness of Liberty James

by Janey Lewis

  Well, well, if we finish both bottles before supper I won’t know what I’m doing, she thought. For some reason she wanted to keep her wits about her.

  She ate a couple of the truffles, infused with lemon grass, to line her stomach, then knocked on Edmund’s door.

  As she walked in, he popped the cork and poured the champagne into coupes.

  ‘Baccarat crystal. I’m amazed your father doesn’t lose half of his property to guests.’

  ‘Tempting, and he does. But he likes the best! Er, Edmund . . .’

  He looked down and realised the glass was overflowing. Liberty raced into the bathroom for towels. Her back view was almost as good as her front, and he had been mightily distracted. She had been so insistent on the two rooms that again he reminded himself there was nothing between them, but gosh, she was a vision. Her dark, shining hair smelled of fresh air and flowers and her creamy skin shone like moonlight as she bent to mop up the spillage. God, I’m turning into a twit, thought Edmund.

  ‘Cheers!’ they said simultaneously, as they raised their glasses. ‘Thank you,’ said Liberty. ‘Today I’m having the best time possible. This was a lovely idea, although I know my father doesn’t do freebies, so do expect a hefty bill!’

  ‘My treat, to say thank you for listening to me banging on about the estate, and good luck with LIBERTEAS. I don’t suppose either of us will get much time off in the next few months, so let’s enjoy ourselves!’

  43

  Alain may not have been into freebies, but by the time they made their way down to one of the comfortable drawing rooms, with lots of upright but relaxing chairs and sofas, another huge fire and tables positioned so there was always somewhere for a drink to be placed, Edmund thought whatever it cost would be worth the money. Piles of Country Life and Homes & Gardens adorned a circular table and pretty jugs of flowers were dotted around. The bookcases were full of a good mix, and there were even photographs in silver frames of Liberty and various family members, including Deirdre and most of the long-term employees; it gave the room an intimate feel, quite removed from the impersonal hotels that Edmund was used to.

  Deirdre had influenced the decoration in the early days, and despite the change of carpets, her clever use of bits of furniture with different heights also took away the feel of uniformity. Interesting pictures along the walls, together with gilded mirrors, completed the look of elegant comfort, and the building itself made guests feel as though they were in a smart country house rather than a hotel.

  The waiting staff had been taught to move around slowly and fluidly, so their presence was barely felt, but they were attentive enough to notice whose glass needed topping up, and to dispense amuse-bouches to those perusing the menus. Alain had a bizarre pathological hatred of computer script. He kept his fountain pen in his pocket at all times and employed an old lady in the nearby village exclusively to write out the menus every day.

  Next door was a bar and an honesty book for guests. It was a clubby room full of hunting prints and cushions embroidered with an assortment of dogs. Antique golf clubs hung on the walls alongside trophy stag antlers and there were furs on the floor. Checks and tweeds covered the furnishings and the bar itself was a sort of butler’s pantry, hand-carved from oak by a craftsman. Liberty showed Edmund round, as most of the other diners had already gone through to one of the two dining rooms. Alain had wanted to keep the feeling of dining in a home, so wouldn’t have appreciated one large room full of muttering people. His philosophy was that somehow, in a cosier environment, people were happy to chat away in a more normal manner, Liberty explained to Edmund.

  He was enjoying watching her rear view as she showed him proudly round. ‘Nothing worse than sitting in a hotel dining room where no one is speaking. It puts one off the food no matter how good it is,’ he agreed.

  Liberty hadn’t had time to feel hungry until now, but after all the fresh air and no food apart from the chocolates since breakfast, she found herself agreeing when Edmund said they should try the tasting menu. ‘That way we don’t have to regret not choosing what the other has,’ he said. ‘And I’m terribly old-fashioned and cannot bear it when someone takes food from my plate to try it.’

  Liberty smiled as she settled into the chair that Edmund indicated by the fire. ‘You sound as though you speak from experience?’

  As Edmund made himself comfortable on the sofa at the other side of the inglenook he said uncomfortably, ‘I had a dear friend, she was – no, is – lovely, but when things were perhaps going to move a step forward, as it were, I brought her home to meet Pa.’ He was looking more and more embarrassed.

  ‘Go on,’ encouraged Liberty, sipping her champagne and eager to know what dreaded deed the poor girl had committed.

  ‘We all sat to have supper, and Deborah was getting on well, chatting away and keeping everyone amused. She is very funny, and Pa’s friends had all been wowed by her shooting abilities earlier.’

  Liberty found herself disliking this girl already and tried hard not to scowl. ‘And?’ she enquired.

  ‘Well, halfway through one of her stories, she noticed I hadn’t eaten my parsnips.’ He stopped short as Liberty snorted champagne through her nose, but she waved at him to continue this dramatic tale. ‘She picked them up, one by one, with her fingers, and ate them. And she wasn’t even sitting next to me! She had to reach across some old crony of Pa’s to do it. I had to call an end to the whole thing. When she asked me why, and I told her, she called me a pompous ass and said I was stuck in the previous century.’

  Liberty tried hard not to giggle. ‘Ahh, the fairy tale; stymied by root vegetables. See, I told you that food and love went together!’ And with that she could hold herself together no more, and burst out laughing. ‘Oh, poor Edmund,’ she gasped as she saw the hawkish glower on his face, ‘you really didn’t love her – otherwise I’m sure the parsnip misdemeanour would have meant very little. I’m sorry to laugh, but you must see the funny side!’ Thankfully, at that moment a diversion was created by the arrival of an amuse-bouche – a tiny square of slow-cooked pork belly garnished with its own crispy skin, and a slice of candied fennel.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ said Liberty, wide-eyed, realising she had polished hers off before Edmund had even started his. ‘I’m starving!’

  ‘It’s lovely to see a lady with an appetite,’ he confessed. ‘Most of my girlfriends had no interest in food, only in the people who went to restaurants.’

  ‘Apart from parsnips!’ Liberty couldn’t resist teasing him.

  They were lowering the liquid in their bottle of champagne, and chatting away happily, when Amelie, the sommelier, came over to show them the wine list. Liberty asked after her children politely and exchanged pleasantries while Edmund considered.

  ‘Why don’t you recommend a wine for us,’ asked Edmund, ‘as we are having the tasting menu.’ At this point Amelie’s face broke into a rare smile and she took the wine menu from his hand. ‘Very good, sir,’ she said and waddled off happily.

  ‘Well done, you are clever,’ said Liberty. ‘I’ve never got on with her, as Daddy can’t stand her,’ she whispered, ‘but she knows her stuff, and her husband is from the village. It’s terribly difficult to get a top class sommelier to work in the sticks. You will have made her night.’

  ‘It must get terribly boring doing all that study and then to come to an English hotel and always be asked whether a wine she has bought from a particular vineyard is any good. When she gives her advice she is then asked for something cheaper and “maybe by the glass as we are driving”.’

  ‘Gosh, I hadn’t thought of it like that, I’m sure that’s exactly how she feels. Oh, you are clever,’ she said for the third time in as many minutes, making Edmund feel top of the class again. ‘Isn’t this fun? It’s so lovely to have a treat when least expected, and especially after the last few days. I feel so relaxed, thank you for suggesting it.’ At that moment Gary arrived to take them to their table.

  ‘I feel like a little girl
allowed into my father’s office, without him being there to tell me not to touch,’ said Liberty, her eyes shining.

  Edmund just loved her enthusiasm. She must have eaten here hundreds of times and be quite used to this type of food, he thought. But she was still going into raptures about their first little case of Stilton foam surrounding a sage and chicken ravioli.

  Next came rabbit, a tiny pretend chop, made by sticking a chined rib bone into a piece of tender, moist loin, a miniature quenelle of rillettes and a sautéed kidney.

  Then fish. A deconstructed fish stew. One mussel, a lobster claw and a red mullet fillet, with a tiny amount of very strong rich lobster bisque, gently scented with tarragon.

  A shallot Tatin, so small that only one perfectly caramelised shallot could fit atop, next to a seared slice of venison and mushroom duxelles with a blackberry port jus, ended the savoury selection.

  They had enjoyed a glass of wine with each dish, and now as they rested they realised that although they had eaten a wide variety of dishes, each was so perfectly sized they were happily looking forward to dessert.

  Liberty was feeling so happy and relaxed, and a little tipsy. She shocked herself by asking, ‘Do you find you miss your mother as much as Savannah says? And are you enjoying running the estate?’ without thinking first. They were both taken aback by her bluntness and she said, ‘I’m so sorry, that was nosy. Don’t answer if you don’t want to, I’ll be taking food off your plate next and you will have to run for the hills!’

  ‘Gosh, I certainly won’t be running anywhere,’ said Edmund, and Liberty found herself hoping it was because he liked her, not because he had eaten so much. He took a deep breath and said, ‘Two huge questions.’ Taking a sip of wine, he thought for a few moments. ‘Ma died when I was young. Not too young, so I remember her well, but I had Gray and Savvie to think about. I’m sure you know that Pa went into quite a decline; he could barely function for a year after her death. I think, sadly, I felt angry with her at the beginning for doing that to him. And for leaving me – us – when we were so young. Of course, I didn’t realise I was angry at the time, you don’t as a child, but I had to grow up pretty fast. Without Mrs Goodman the family would have simply fallen apart. I think I probably became rather too serious; I felt I had to be the man of the house, but my age didn’t allow me to achieve that. I lost my childhood and gained an unerring ability to push away those close to me.’

  Liberty could feel herself well up; she had spent her youth laughing at the too serious Edmund, but now her heart went out to the little boy who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Edmund, whose tongue had been loosened by the wine and the effect Liberty was having on him, carried on. ‘Gray’s always on at me to chill, and Deborah – parsnip girl, my last paramour – used to call me Scowled. I just threw myself into work, first at school, then uni and setting up my company, which I am so proud of, and now I bloody have to give it all up.’

  Liberty looked up at his blazing eyes. It all made sense. He had spent his entire life working hard to achieve something on his own, away from Denhelm and the sad memories, and now he had been called back to live there and take care of it. No wonder he wasn’t looking forward to the challenge. He saw the estate as his past, not his future. Edmund, meanwhile, had recovered from his near outburst and went back to reflecting on his mother.

  ‘Pa very rarely spoke of her, so Gray and I would ask Mrs G to tell us stories of what she was like and show us photographs. Pa was furious one day when he caught Savvie looking through her clothes. I’m so pleased he has found Paloma, and maybe some sort of closure. Yes, I’ve missed having a mother, but many others are in the same boat, and we have a very close family, so in many ways I’m lucky. The estate? We will have to wait and see. I suppose I’ve always known it would come to me, eventually, and I thought it would somehow fit like an old coat found at the back of the rack after the summer, but I feel very lost at the moment.’

  Liberty placed her hand over his to stop him fidgeting with a butter knife. ‘I’m sorry to make you think of the past; I was out of turn. I just wanted to know the real you.’

  Edmund had stopped fidgeting. His hand was charged with the strange energy he felt when he was around Liberty. ‘I’ve never spoken of such things, and I feel a bore to have done so when we are enjoying such a fine evening. I apologise.’

  Their eyes met, and a brief understanding flew between them before they were interrupted by the arrival of a large pistachio soufflé with a spoonful of Liberty’s favourite coffee ice cream melting delectably into a hole in the centre. Gary, who had brought over the soufflé, had also been the cupid who instructed the kitchen to make one large pudding rather than individual ones, and he asked sweetly if they would like him to serve or just to leave two spoons. Knowing he was joking but enjoying their moment of closeness, both said, ‘Just spoons, please,’ and laughed at the delight on Gary’s face. The moment of relief had allowed the electricity in the air to settle, and they once again found themselves chattering about more benign subjects.

  ‘Don’t you like parsnips, then?’ asked Liberty as they placed their spoons in the empty dish, replete but happy. Edmund grinned – actually grinned! thought Liberty. And because he is happy, not because he is fixing drains!

  And then he said, ‘I think they may become my favourite vegetable! I have a lot to thank them for.’

  The air seemed to have slowly crystallised, their strong emotions freed by alcohol, good company and a general sense of togetherness. Liberty was barely able to utter a word. Her mind was turning in an everlasting circle. I want this man, but if I say so, and he rejects me, I have lost a great friend. If I don’t, and never get the chance again, I’m an idiot. She certainly didn’t need any more food, but suddenly having no idea what to do with her hands made her pop one of the petit fours that had been left with their coffee into her mouth. Why wasn’t Edmund saying anything? Did he think her revoltingly greedy? Oh God, she was the new parsnip girl!

  Edmund was lost in a world of contentment. As he sat and watched Liberty put another small sweetmeat in her mouth, he mused over people who insisted that when attracted to each other they couldn’t eat a thing. If that was the case, he and Liberty loathed each other. But he knew the opposite was true for him. He had never experienced such physical pleasure as when seeing Liberty gently sniff at, nibble, then roll a mouthful round her tongue. She made it the most sensual action.

  He had always found other people’s eating habits fairly abhorrent, but the enjoyment that Liberty derived from every morsel filled his senses with happiness and his body with longing. In the same way, he loved to watch her working in her kitchen – how she instinctively reached for herbs, flavourings and spices. She seemed to be performing her own ballet, each movement pre-decided upon. She moved as effortlessly as a dancer, every sinew in her body gracefully deployed, as though twisting and stretching from toe to fingertip. She appeared to live and work with every part of herself. This was one of the many things he had come to love about her, and now here she was, obviously full to bursting and trying not to say something. Should he ask her to his suite for a nightcap? If she said no, it would be horribly awkward.

  British formality lay between them like a giant oak tree felled in a storm. Liberty was thinking, God, if I were French, I would have just launched myself on him, and devil may care what happened.

  And Edmund was deliberating, Goodness me, if I were an Italian, I’d never have brought her down to dinner in the first place.

  This painful, yet delightful, scenario was broken by Gary.

  ‘Miss James, your telephone appears to be ringing.’ He handed her the purple clutch bag, which had been placed behind her on the chair.

  ‘Goodness me, I hadn’t realised I had put it in there!’ said Liberty, blushing furiously. By the time she had scrabbled around for her phone it had stopped ringing, but then Edmund’s buzzed in his pocket.

  ‘I don’t care if my father does own the place, we will get turned ou
t,’ muttered Liberty, knowing that private phones were actively discouraged in the hotel’s public rooms.

  Edmund looked down at his screen. ‘It’s Gray,’ he said. ‘I had better take it. It must be tomorrow already where he is. Hold on a minute.’

  Liberty looked at her call register, and the last missed call had been from Grahame. ‘Oh, help, it must be an emergency,’ was her first reaction. ‘But why would he call me first?’

  Edmund had left the dining room, and she presumed he had walked outside to phone Gray. Meanwhile, the few other remaining guests were doing what the British do best: complaining under their breath so she could just hear without catching the details. She looked at them directly and said kindly, ‘Sorry, but we were waiting for important news.’ After directing a dazzling smile at the male members of the group, who had already noted her long legs and beautiful figure, the grumbling stopped.

  Edmund walked briskly towards her. ‘That was interesting. I need a brandy.’ He was flushed and breathing excitedly.

  ‘What? What? Tell me,’ said Liberty.

  ‘Drink first. Two brandies, please,’ he ordered, as Gary appeared. Not waiting to ask what type, he returned with a tray holding two glasses of Alain’s finest. Edmund took a sip, and then stopped to appreciate the smooth, amber liquid.

  ‘Well. It appears Gray wasn’t quite straight – excuse the pun – with us about how he knew this Major Race chap. He is an old flame!’

  Liberty looked quizzical. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He and Gray had a sort of relationship years ago at uni. Anyway, he went off, joined the army, rose up the ranks, and we know Gray’s story. The major left the army, left his wife and announced to anyone who would listen that he was gay and proud of it blah, blah, the usual stuff. Children disowned him. He took himself off around the globe to do good for others.