Chapter Fifty-One
CHAPTER
FIFTY - ONE
Felicity had woken early and, unable to get back to sleep, had got up. Now she was repainting the mural on her bedroom wall. This time it was of London. There was a sweeping river and behind it an outline of St Paul’s Cathedral, the Tower of London, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. It wasn’t supposed to be an accurate representation, just her memories of London. There was a bridge and beside the bridge were a couple. They could have been anyone, Felicity inwardly insisted, although the boy was tall and dark, and the girl at his side was a little bit like a self-portrait.
‘Felicity!’ called Alexandra from the landing, which was so spacious it was almost a room. ‘Come and look at this!’
They were alone on the first floor. Stéphie and Henri, her sister and brother, were away studying, and the little boys were somewhere on the farm with their nanny, feeding the goats and getting muddy.
Felicity went to join her. She was looking out of a window at the front of the chateau.
‘Who on earth is that?’
Someone was coming up the long drive on a bicycle. Felicity’s heart leapt like a fish and then fell back down again. There was only one person she knew in the world who used a bicycle as transport. ‘It’s Oliver,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to see him.’
Alexandra didn’t speak immediately. ‘You don’t have to see him for a few more minutes. I wonder where he got the bicycle from?’
‘Really—’
‘All right, darling. I’ll speak to him first and then send him to Antoine. Although you may have to see him at some point, even if it’s just to say goodbye.’
Felicity rushed back to her bedroom. The thought of saying goodbye to Oliver wrenched at her. It sounded so permanent. She didn’t want to see him but she didn’t want not to see him either.
She heard him ring the bell. He must have pulled at the knob with some force because the bell sounded really loud.
She heard Alexandra open the door. ‘Good morning,’ she said in English. ‘What can I do for you?’
Oliver cleared his throat. He probably had a speech in French prepared, thought Felicity. He wasn’t expecting an upper-class English accent. ‘Oh … Does Felicity live here?’
‘Yes, she does.’ Alexandra was making it easy for him, Felicity realised. She could have asked for more details. ‘May I ask who wants to know?’
‘Oliver Ward.’
A tiny pause. ‘Would you like to come in?’
Felicity let out a sigh. Once he was in the house she had no chance of avoiding him completely. She looked in the mirror. She wasn’t going to put on make-up for him but she made sure she got a smudge of paint off her cheek. She was wearing a Guernsey sweater of Antoine’s over an old white shirt. She looked OK, she decided.
She didn’t rush down. She knew what was going on downstairs. Alexandra would take him into the kitchen where it was warm. Then she’d offer him breakfast. Was there a croissant left over? Would she put it in the oven for him? Or would she make scrambled eggs? Alexandra made excellent scrambled eggs.
She went down after a few long minutes, torn between being desperate to see him and wanting to hide in her bed until he had gone.
Oliver was sitting exactly where Felicity knew he’d be. He was by the fire with a plate of something on the table and Milou’s big head on his lap. Felicity had a tiny second to think that Milou should have torn Oliver’s throat out to protect her before Oliver saw her and got up hurriedly.
He fought his way past the dog, the table and chairs, everything, until he got to Felicity. He took her into his arms and for a few moments just held her to him. Then he stepped back. ‘Sorry! I couldn’t help myself. I know that may not have been welcome.’ He was totally abashed, Felicity realised. Then he reached under the table and produced a brown paper parcel. ‘Your boots,’ he said. ‘I came to give them back to you.’
Felicity took the parcel, unable to speak. She was confused. How could she want to be with this mudlarker, this boy without a proper job, who still held her heart, broken as it was, in the palm of his hand and who had travelled to France to give her back her boots?
‘Sit down, everyone,’ said Alexandra calmly. ‘Felicity? Coffee? Or English tea?’
‘Tea, please.’ It came out as a croak.
‘Oliver? More coffee?’
When everyone was settled again – and Milou had put his head back on Oliver’s lap, although that could have been because of the food – Alexandra spoke again.
‘Felicity, Oliver borrowed a bike from a man at the station and cycled all the way here. To give you back your boots.’
‘They got left in a friend’s car,’ Oliver explained.
Felicity nodded, but still couldn’t get anything to come out of her mouth. Part of her wanted to declare that she knew he could ride a bicycle.
‘He has quite a lot to tell you,’ Alexandra went on. ‘And I’m going to go and tell Antoine that Oliver is here.’
‘Please don’t—’ said Felicity as Alexandra left the room.
‘Maybe she is a wicked stepmother,’ said Oliver. ‘After all, she’s leaving you on your own with the man you never wanted to see again.’
She could hear how nervous he was from his voice. Somehow his nerves helped calm hers. ‘What do you want to say to me? Thank you for the boots, by the way. I thought I’d never see them again.’
He nodded. ‘I was so sorry I couldn’t stay and have breakfast with you all after we found the site of the palace. There was so much I wanted to say.’
‘At breakfast? With Henry and Violet there?’
He shook his head. ‘No. But we could have gone outside to talk.’
Felicity pursed her lips but didn’t reply.
‘One of the things I would have said was how sorry I was about everything,’ said Oliver. ‘From what went on at Christmas between me and Imogen – it meant nothing to either of us. We’ve known each other all our lives – but I shouldn’t have let it happen. I shouldn’t have had the glass of whisky that stole my brains.’
‘No,’ said Felicity.
‘And afterwards, when I was trying to make it up by taking you mudlarking, I should have paid proper attention to the tide. I was so obsessed with wanting to find real treasure for you, I forgot the basic rules.’
‘We nearly drowned,’ said Felicity.
‘I’ve had nightmares about it almost every night since.’
Felicity cleared her throat; she had been terrified at the time but she hadn’t had nightmares about it.
Oliver sighed and then took another deep breath. ‘After Rod got back on his feet, I went home. I felt I had to talk to my father face to face and stop avoiding him. I’ve been in London for about three years and I’ve managed never to have a proper conversation with him since.’
‘He is terrifying.’
‘Yes, but basically, he’s my dad – the only one I’ve known.’
‘Was he pleased to see you?’ Felicity found it hard to imagine Hector being anything other than ferocious.
‘He was. Very pleased.’
This was a surprise. ‘That’s – good.’
‘What I didn’t know was that Rod had written him a letter. He told him all about me looking after him and doing labouring jobs at the same time.’
‘Oh.’ Felicity wasn’t sure if she’d taken in this detail herself.
‘We had a long talk. We drank a lot of whisky, and I told him how I wanted to be a jeweller.’
‘He knew that though, didn’t he?’
‘He hadn’t taken it seriously. But Rod explained how many skills it involved, how technical it was.’ He laughed. ‘I think he thought the diamonds just flew into the settings of their own accord.’
Felicity smiled back at him. She was beginning to relax.
Oliver must have sensed this. He cleared his throat. ‘You are all I want – all I ever will want – in the whole world. I also realise what I want is sort of by the by. For me to have any chance of happiness I have to convince you that I’m a worthwhile person.’
Felicity chewed her lip. She couldn’t think of anything to say. Maybe it was just as well that Oliver had obviously been thinking what to say for a while.
‘Rod has connections in Paris.’
Felicity’s heart did a sort of flip. She had been feeling so undecided about Paris. She was definitely going to go – it was such a good opportunity, she couldn’t pass it up – but on some days she really didn’t want to. On others, she thought it was an opportunity to erase Oliver from her mind.
‘My father has agreed – reluctantly, because he still really wants to see me in an army uniform – to support me in Paris so I can be an apprentice. He won’t give me much money, obviously – he’s still Hector! I’ll have to find other jobs. But the man I’ll be apprenticed to is a really good jeweller and doesn’t usually take apprentices. We went together to meet him.’
Felicity sipped her tea. It reminded her of London, of all the tea she and Violet had shared.
‘I had to bring a piece of jewellery I’ve been working on. Do you remember the brooch we found that time—’
Felicity frowned. ‘When we nearly drowned?’
Oliver sighed, remorse evident in every inch of him. ‘You – or was it Violet? – gave all our finds from that day to Henry and Henry gave me back the brooch. And I repaired it and got some stones for it.’ He put his hand in his pocket. ‘It’s for you.’
Felicity took the little tissue paper package. She didn’t unwrap it.
‘I hope one day to be able to give you a ring, for us to be engaged, but—’
Antoine and Alexandra came in at this moment. Oliver got up instantly.
‘This is Oliver,’ said Alexandra. ‘He came all the way from the station on a bicycle.’
‘Impressive,’ said Antoine. ‘Do sit down.’
Felicity saw Antoine smile. It was a kind, charming smile, but she sensed it was striking horror into Oliver.
‘Have you two finished saying what you need to say?’ asked Alexandra.
‘Not quite,’ said Oliver. ‘I was just telling Felicity that I’m going to be an apprentice to a French jeweller in Paris. That little present is a sample of my work.’
‘Maybe we should see it?’ said Antoine.
Felicity unwrapped it. Inside was the brooch. When they had found it there were no stones and the surround was twisted out of shape and caked in mud. Now it was sparkling clean. New jewels shone from the settings.
It was in the shape of a square surrounding a cross. Crystals and red stones were edged by pearls.
Antoine reached out for it and Felicity handed it to him.
‘That’s very fine work. If you did this, I am impressed.’
‘Thank you, I did do it. Under the close eye of my friend, of course. The white stones are crystals—’
‘And what about the red? Are they rubies or garnets?’ Antoine asked.
‘I was fully prepared to use garnets, which I could just about afford, but then Rod gave me some rubies he’d found mudlarking many years ago. He said if I was going to put the effort into setting it properly, I might as well use the real thing. The pearls are real too.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Felicity. ‘I won’t ever dare wear it.’
‘I hope you will,’ said Oliver. ‘And when I’m a proper apprentice I’ll learn so much more and will be able to create so much more.’
‘Will you be able to afford to live in Paris as an apprentice?’ Antoine went on.
‘My father has – reluctantly – agreed to give me an allowance but I will need to find other work. But I’ll enjoy that. It will help my French.’ Oliver cleared his throat. ‘Sir, I am aware that shortly you’ll want to take me into your study and ask me about my prospects, but could I have another word with Felicity first?’ He laughed ruefully. ‘Because if she doesn’t want me, I might as well save everybody’s time and get on my bike and cycle away from here.’
Antoine and Alexandra laughed. ‘I think you should stay for lunch,’ said Alexandra. ‘Or you won’t have the energy to do that. But do have a word with Felicity first.’ She thought for a second. ‘It’s still a bit cold, but why don’t you show Oliver the orangery? Felicity has done a very fine mural there. You might like to see it.’
Oliver’s gaze turned to Felicity and seemed to stay there for a long time. Eventually she said, ‘OK. I’ll get a coat.’
It didn’t take her long to pull a coat from the row hanging up in the downstairs cloakroom. It happened to be Antoine’s flying jacket, but it was a favourite of hers. It also gave her the feeling that he was with her, somehow, and she needed that.
Oliver was waiting for her in the hall when she emerged. He was alone apart from Milou.
‘Are you sure you want to show me the orangery? Can you face hearing me apologise? Forgive me, even? For all the dreadful things I’ve done to you?’
A tiny smile started at the corner of her mouth. She tried to suppress it but failed. ‘I’m not sure I can forgive you for introducing your father to my mother. If they finally get together it’ll be so odd. And he’ll be an awful father-in-law.’
Oliver smiled properly. It seemed to Felicity that he hadn’t done that for a long time. It was like the sun coming out after a long winter. ‘I know! But let’s not talk about our parents. We’ve got a lot of other important things to discuss.’
‘Let me show you the orangery.’
‘This is brilliant!’ said Oliver, having stared at the scene depicted on the wall. ‘The chateau is perfect – does it have roses climbing up it in summer?’
‘Yes, but when I painted them, they weren’t there.’
‘And there’s Alexandra in her famous boiler suit!’
‘She complained about being in the picture because she said she wasn’t going to be here for long. I instinctively knew she would be. I added the twins in later. See?’
‘Felicity?’
She turned away from the mural to see what Oliver wanted. He was looking down at her, and then he put his hand on her cheek. The look of love in his eyes made Felicity catch her breath. He leant down, still holding her cheek, and kissed her. The kiss seemed endless and soon Felicity’s arms were round his neck, pulling him down to her.
They were breathless when they broke apart. Felicity swallowed, a little embarrassed by her passion.
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have done that?’ Oliver was obviously anxious that he’d taken advantage of Felicity.
Felicity’s moment of embarrassment was short-lived. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure this orangery has seen a lot worse than that!’
Oliver smiled. ‘We’d better get back.’
Felicity nodded. ‘It’s nearly time for lunch.’
As they walked across the lawn to the chateau Felicity was aware that very soon Antoine would want to interrogate Oliver but neither knew what he would say.
Lunch was ready when they returned. The kitchen table was laid with soup, paté, bread and cheese. There was also a salad and a carafe of wine.
‘Have a drink, Oliver,’ said Alexandra, passing him a glass. ‘Do sit down. Can I give you some soup? Please don’t ask me what kind it is. It’s just soup.’
Although Oliver ate and drank and chatted with his usual charm, Felicity knew he was anxious. He didn’t have a father he could relate to so he must be wondering about Antoine. Would he be stricter than his own father? She tried to smile at him but couldn’t catch his eye. He was intent on answering Alexandra’s questions about mudlarking.
Then Antoine got up. ‘Come on, Oliver. Let’s have the conversation.’
While Felicity and Alexandra cleared away the lunch, Felicity asked, ‘What do you think Papa is going to say?’
‘I think he just wants to make sure that you don’t do anything silly when you’re in Paris together. It’s a good opportunity to get to know each other, to discover Paris – think how lovely it will be to discover a beautiful city with the man you love!’ She paused. ‘You do love him, don’t you, darling?’
Suddenly everything was clear to her. ‘Yes,’ said Felicity, ‘I definitely do.’
It wasn’t long before Oliver and Antoine came back. ‘Oliver is going to stay for a few days to give us a chance to get to know him,’ said Antoine. ‘Which is very kind. And he’s agreed to stick to my rules.’
‘What are they, Papa?’ Felicity was worried.
‘Very simple. No getting married for at least a year. You’re far too young.’
Felicity put her head on one side. ‘Papa, how old was Alexandra when you and she got married?’
Alexandra laughed. ‘Pretty much the same age as you are.’
‘Then how come—’
‘Don’t argue, darling,’ said Oliver anxiously. ‘I really don’t want to mess up things again. I love you too much to want to do that.’
Felicity blushed and sighed and felt very happy.
‘And now I know I’m allowed to court you,’ said Oliver, ‘I want to give you this. It’s not an engagement ring, it really isn’t, but I made it. It’s a friendship ring, really.’
‘You’ve come well supplied with jewellery, I must say,’ said Alexandra.
‘The brooch was to prove to you all that I can be a jeweller. This ring is to try and keep away all the glamorous Frenchmen while we’re waiting.’ He slipped it on to Felicity’s right hand. ‘I’ll make you a really beautiful engagement ring, when the time comes.’
‘Rings and brooches are lovely,’ said Felicity. ‘But it’s you I want, not jewellery.’
Although Felicity’s father and stepmother were watching, Oliver took her into his arms. But before he could do more than give her the briefest kiss, the door opened and the little boys trotted in, followed by a young woman entreating them to slow down.
‘This is chateau life,’ said Alexandra, picking up a boy in each arm.
‘I love chateau life,’ said Oliver. ‘Almost as much as I love Felicity.’