The Beekeeper's Daughter (25 page)

‘Grace!’ It was Freddie, pulling up on his bicycle.

‘Look at the snow!’ she exclaimed. ‘Isn’t it marvellous?’

‘We’re going to have a white wedding,’ he said, leaning his bicycle against the wall. ‘I’ve bought you a present.’

‘A present? What for? You shouldn’t have.’

He hurried over to her with a parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. ‘I was going to buy you a ring, but as you have your mother’s I thought I’d spend the money on something else.’

‘But I don’t need anything,’ she laughed.

‘You might not need it, but I want you to have it.’ He kissed her. ‘I’ve wanted to buy this for you since I was fifteen. Let’s go inside. I don’t want the snow to spoil it.’

Once in the kitchen, she pulled at the string. ‘What could it possibly be? Oh, Freddie, you are something else.’ His face was alight with pleasure, watching her unwrap it. She saw a flash of colour and pulled out a bright-red dress. ‘Oh my goodness, it’s a red dress. How did you know I’ve always wanted a red dress?’

‘You told me. Down by the river. I’ve never forgotten. In fact, I wanted to go straight out and buy you one, but I didn’t have any money.’

‘It’s beautiful. Shall I try it on?’

‘I hope it fits. Mum told me your size and the lady in the shop knew it, too.’

‘To think of you in a shop, Freddie.’ She laughed and ran upstairs. ‘You wait there. I’ll only be a minute.’

But Freddie was too impatient. He pushed open her bedroom door just as she was doing up the buttons that ran over her breasts. His expression told her how good he thought she looked. ‘Do you like it?’ she asked, knowing that he did.

‘I don’t like it, I love it,’ he replied. ‘But I want to unbutton all those buttons.’

‘Freddie, you have to wait,’ she said, turning away.

‘You have no idea how patient I’m being.’ He swung her around and pulled her into his arms. ‘Red is a wicked colour,’ he said, eyes gleaming with lust.

‘That’s why I wanted a dress. I wanted to feel wicked for a change.’

‘Grace, I never thought you had it in you to be wicked.’

‘It’s amazing what the colour red can do to a girl.’

He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his knee. ‘This is my present,’ he said, slipping his hand under the fabric and tracing his fingers up her stocking.

She pushed his hand away. ‘Freddie, you have to wait,’ she insisted.

‘Then kiss me, at least. You’re driving me mad.’

That evening Grace remained alone in the cottage. May had tried to persuade her to spend the night before her wedding at their house, but Grace had explained that she wanted to spend her final night as Grace Hamblin at home. From tomorrow, for the rest of her life she would share the Beekeeper’s Cottage with Freddie.

She switched on the wireless in the sitting room. Ella Fitzgerald’s rich voice resounded through the rooms, making her feel less alone. She lit a fire and watched Pepper make himself comfortable in front of it. She still hadn’t got used to her father’s empty chair. It seemed bigger without him in it. She had put his pipe and reading glasses in the walnut box with other personal belongings of his that she wanted to keep. It was easier to accept his death if those things weren’t scattered around the house.

She read her novel for a while, but soon she realized she was just staring at the words without absorbing their meaning. Her mind was drifting off into the gardens of Walbridge Hall and to Rufus with his twinkling eyes and infectious smile. She rested her book on her lap and willingly set aside her self-control. Since her decision to marry Freddie she had barely thought about Rufus. She had successfully blotted him from her thoughts, closing the drawer on his letter and her dreams. But now the finality of her impending marriage forced her attention onto the man she had secretly loved since she was fourteen. There hadn’t ever been the slightest possibility of Rufus reciprocating her feelings, but suddenly, as her existence as a single woman was about to expire, she found herself reluctant to extinguish her hope.

She turned off the wireless and went to her bedroom and pulled open the drawer where she had shut away the letter Rufus had written to her after her father died. She sat on the bed and slowly withdrew it from its envelope. She traced her fingers over the embossed
R
and read his words for what she believed would be the last time. For tomorrow she was to become Freddie’s wife. Tomorrow she would turn her back on Grace Hamblin’s hopeless wishes and accept her future as Grace Valentine without ever again looking back.

As she replaced the letter in the drawer something in the doorway caught her eye. She swung around with a flush of guilt, as if someone had caught her reading Rufus’s letter. There was nobody there and all was quiet except for the habitual ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. She wandered into the corridor. The door to her father’s bedroom was open. She was sure she had left it shut. With a thumping heart she went to close it. As she put her hand on the doorknob she noticed one of his handkerchiefs lying on the carpet at her feet. How strange. She was certain it hadn’t been there before. She peered around the door to check that no one had sneaked in, but his bedroom was empty and silent as she had left it. She picked up the handkerchief and saw the initials she had sewn onto the corner years before.
A. H. H
. Arthur Henry Hamblin. She brought it to her nose and stifled a sob.

The following morning Michael picked Grace up in his motor car and drove her through the snow to his house where May and Josephine were waiting to help her dress for the wedding. It was bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day, so Freddie had been awoken early and sent out to meet his friends in the Fox and Goose for a pre-wedding drink. Michael opened a bottle of sherry and poured four glasses. May put on the gramophone and music resounded through the house as they curled their hair, applied make-up and danced around the room excitedly. There was a spring feel to the house in spite of the thick snow covering the ground outside. Bouquets of flowers had been arriving since dawn, for Grace was very popular, and the air was saturated with their sweet perfume.

A few weeks before, Grace and May had taken the train to Dorchester and bought a dress at the department store. It was a simple ivory-coloured dress adorned with pearls. They had celebrated their purchase with lunch at the Regis Hotel before catching the afternoon train home. Now Grace put it on and May buttoned it up at the back. Grace stood in front of the long mirror and even Josephine was unable to find anything unpleasant to say. ‘Oh, Grace,’ she sighed. ‘You look beautiful.’

‘Yes, you do,’ May agreed. ‘Arthur would be so proud.’ She fastened the final button and stood back to admire the girl who was about to become a real daughter to her, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.

Grace stared at her reflection and for a fleeting moment she saw her mother’s face gazing back at her. Her lips curled into a gentle smile and her eyes shimmered with emotion. Grace forgot to breathe as her mother’s whole expression radiated a love that seemed to reach her through the glass and envelop her in a warm and comforting light. ‘Don’t look so surprised,’ said May. ‘You’re a lovely-looking girl, Grace.’

‘Freddie’s going to be the one to look surprised,’ Josephine cut in. ‘He’ll wonder who’s the girl walking up the aisle.’

For once May chided her crossly. ‘That’s unfair, Josie. Why don’t you go and see if there’s any more champagne? I think Grace needs a refill and goodness, so do I.’

Grace reluctantly turned away from the mirror and the vision of her mother vanished as quickly as it had come. ‘Thank you, Auntie May. I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ she said.

May chuckled. ‘That’s what your father used to say.’

‘I do so wish he was here.’ A sob escaped Grace’s chest and she let out a whimper. May gathered her into her arms and the two women sought comfort in each other, trying hard not to let tears wash away their make-up.

‘He is here, don’t you think, Grace? That’s what he said in his letter, right? “We’ll always be with you.” Well, Arthur knew about those things, didn’t he? He had a wisdom we don’t have. I trust he knew what he was talking about and you must trust him, too.’

‘Then I wish I could see him. Believing isn’t the same as seeing.’

‘I know it isn’t, but it’s all we’ve got.’ She pulled away and looked Grace in the eye. ‘Now, you walk down that aisle with Michael and know that my Freddie is going to take care of you in your father’s place and he’s going to do his very best to make you happy. You have to think about the future now. You’re a grown-up and you’re going to start a family of your own one day. You look just right and Freddie is the luckiest man in the world to be marrying you.’

At last Michael announced that it was time to leave for the church. Josephine walked with her mother, leaving Grace to travel in the motor car with Michael. Just as they were about to depart, the Marquess’s black Bentley purred into the narrow lane, making it impossible for them to leave. It stopped and Cummings, the chauffeur, stepped out, went round to the back and withdrew the most enormous bouquet of flowers Grace had ever seen. ‘Good day, Mr Valentine,’ he said to Michael. ‘These are for you, Miss Grace.’

Grace knew at once that they were from Rufus and a lump lodged itself at the bottom of her throat. Michael took the flowers inside and Cummings handed her the note. It was written in Rufus’s distinctive hand:
Miss Grace Hamblin
. With trembling fingers she pulled out the little card. It was embossed with the now familiar gold
R
at the top, then below, he had written in black ink:

My dear Grace,

I wish you all the luck in the world on your wedding day. May you be blessed with many happy years of laughter and joy and the blessed buzzing of buzzy-bees.

Your friend, Rufus

She was so busy reading the note over and over that she forgot to thank Cummings, and when she remembered her manners and looked up, the motor car was reversing out of the lane and it was too late. Rufus would have said he was too sour to deserve a thank you and that made her feel a little better. She smiled as she recalled the expression on Rufus’s face when he had decided to name him Lemon.

‘That’s a mighty bouquet of flowers, Grace. Are they from Lord and Lady Penselwood?’ Michael asked.

The colour flooded Grace’s cheeks. ‘No, they’re from Lord Melville. I once helped his grandmother’s arthritis.’

‘Ah, yes, so you did. I remember now. How kind of him to think of you today.’

‘He’s wishing me and Freddie good luck,’ she said, slipping the card back into its envelope.

‘I’ll put that with the flowers in the kitchen.’

‘Did you put them in water?’ she asked, anxious for them not to wilt.

‘I filled the sink. They’ll be fine in there until you’re ready to take them home. They’ve scented the whole house already. They must have come all the way from London. You don’t get flowers like that in the middle of winter in Dorset! Must have cost a fair bit, I imagine.’

‘He’s very kind.’

‘Very. Now, let’s get you in the motor car. We mustn’t keep everyone waiting.’

When Grace stepped into the church on Michael’s arm, she thought of her father, then she thought of Rufus and finally, as she approached the end of the aisle and saw Freddie’s eager face grinning at her with admiration and affection, she thought of the man whom she was about to vow to love and cherish until death did them part, and a small, inaudible voice cried out in her head: ‘Run away, run away, you’ve only ever truly loved Rufus.’ But she was now at Freddie’s side and Michael was giving her away and she was repeating words without absorbing them because all she could think about was that beautiful bouquet of spring flowers in May’s kitchen and the sudden realization that perhaps Rufus loved her a little, after all.

As Freddie slipped her mother’s gold band onto her finger she was jolted back to her senses. Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of the ring her father had left for her in the walnut box and his words echoed loudly in her head, blotting out the voice that was telling her to flee. ‘
What you need is love, of course, but the steady, loyal, constant love of a friend
.’ She trusted her father. She knew he had understood her needs better than anyone. She could never have Rufus. Freddie would make her happy. It was foolish to wish for more. She gazed into Freddie’s eyes and saw the steady, loyal, constant love her father had recognized.

‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ said Reverend Dibben happily. Freddie squeezed her hand between his reassuringly and she felt her body loosen and her mouth curl into a smile, rebelling against her heart which wanted to cry its longing into the vaults of the church.

‘Hello, Mrs Valentine,’ Freddie whispered, his indigo eyes bright with joy, and Grace didn’t have time to mourn the loss of her name or to reflect on what that might mean before she was led to the back of the church to sign the register. She dutifully wrote her name, receiving congratulations from May and Michael with dignity and a strange numbness, as if she was under water. Then, to the resounding notes of the organ, she walked down the aisle on Freddie’s arm – past the people she had known since she was a child and who would accompany her along the path to the end of her days – and out into her future as Mrs Freddie Valentine.

She knew she had done the right thing, but those flowers had shed light on the tiny seed of hope that lay hidden in the bottom of her heart. It now cracked open and a little green shoot burst forth, raising its head out of the dark.

Chapter 18

That night, alone at last in the Beekeeper’s Cottage, Freddie unbuttoned Grace’s dress and took her to bed. He was a gentle and sensitive lover and what he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm. Small blunders induced laughter rather than a feeling of awkwardness, because they knew each other too well to be embarrassed. In Freddie’s arms Grace made the transition from girlhood to womanhood without regret for her lost youth or her choice of husband. Beneath Freddie’s stroking she forgot about Rufus and gave in to the heady range of new sensations that opened a door to a whole new world she had never known was there. Making love enticed her into the moment and she savoured it gratefully.