Chapter 18
‘Well, I think you’re all right to get back on the horse. Back in the saddle, if you’re with me.’
Dr Shaw’s eyes twinkled at her, and for a moment Clementine thought he was actually going to slap her on the thigh, as if she was a cow at a county show. She swung her legs off the examination table before he could think about it, and sat up.
‘Thank you.’
‘That’ll put a smile on your husband’s face, I’m sure.’
‘The fact that I’m in good health and there’s nothing wrong? Yes, I’m sure it will.’
He gave her a sharp glance, not sure if she was being sarcastic.
She smiled sweetly, for she might need Dr Shaw again before long and, in her experience, doctors were all as bad as each other in the way they spoke to you.
She preferred a nurse any day of the week.
But it was a relief, to know there was no real reason either for the miscarriage or why she couldn’t get pregnant again.
Alfie would be relieved, for he’d been terrified, treating her like a piece of broken china that had been glued back together but might fall apart again at the slightest touch.
Dr Shaw stepped away and swished the curtain back into place. At least he had the decency to allow her some privacy while she put her clothes back on.
‘I shall look forward to seeing you again in the near future.’ His voice floated over the top of the cubicle.
‘I hope so.’ Clementine snapped her stockings back into place. ‘Thank you so much, doctor.’
As soon as she left, she felt lighter of heart. She hadn’t realised how much worry she’d been holding inside her. She was longing to get back home and tell Alfie the good news, but she had to get to Browns’ Hotel to meet Henrietta.
Browns’ was Clementine’s second home. It was supremely comfortable with a touch of grandeur that made you feel cosseted, a deliciously hushed atmosphere and excellent service.
It was where she met her parents whenever they came up to London, and now Henrietta was ensconced in Berkshire it was the perfect place for the two of them, for they could park themselves on a sofa for hours and hours and no one hurried them, but would bring along whatever took their fancy – a cup of Lapsang Souchong, or a pink gin.
Henrietta was already there, in the depths of a sofa the size of the Queen Mary, presiding over a large silver teapot, a brace of bone china cups and a cake stand stuffed with dainty sandwiches, scones and a selection of cakes. Clementine flopped down next to her.
‘What a day! Feed me. I’m absolutely ravenous.’
‘What have you been up to?’
‘Oh, not a fat lot.’ Clementine pulled off her gloves and reached for the teapot. ‘But I did get the thumbs-up from Dr Shaw.’
‘Well, you’d better get on with it, then. You need to catch up.’ Henrietta patted her own stomach. ‘Pass me a ham sandwich, would you? And how’s life at Foxwood?’
Clementine knew she had to be careful what she divulged to Henrietta.
She loved her friend dearly but discretion was not Henrietta’s watchword and she valued gossip over loyalty.
Clementine knew this because time and again Henrietta would tell her things she shouldn’t, and it wasn’t because she knew she could trust Clementine to keep her mouth shut, it was because she lived for the thrill of people’s reactions on being told a salacious snippet. She simply couldn’t help herself.
And both of the secrets Clementine was keeping close to her chest were potentially explosive.
Her mother-in-law’s affair, for a start – whether or not it was still going on she couldn’t be sure, but she felt the information heavy inside her, and it affected how she viewed Elizabeth.
She wished she didn’t know, for it tarnished her trust, and that was not what she wanted.
As for today’s discovery, she really hadn’t had time to mull over what it all meant.
Henrietta would be beside herself with glee at either of the revelations, but Clementine might as well take out an advert in tomorrow’s Telegraph as confide in her. So instead she told her about the Snow Ball.
‘The twenty-first of December? I’m going to be mammoth! I’ll be like a snowman,’ Henrietta wailed.
Clementine helped herself to a slice of Battenburg. ‘Nobody minds. It’ll be fun. And I’ll make sure you get a room at Foxwood. Everyone will be billeted all around Breverton.’
‘Oh, yes please. I certainly don’t want to end up at your sister-in-law’s. She’s a caution. What on earth’s the matter with her?’
‘Diana? I don’t know. She’s very tricky.’
Henrietta made a disapproving face. ‘She’s so unlike the others. I can’t believe Elizabeth’s her mother.’
‘She’s a funny one.’ Clementine felt curiously disloyal, discussing Diana behind her back. Despite her sister-in-law’s hostility, she felt protective of her. She was such a square peg, and she knew she was. It was almost as if she was proud of it. ‘I don’t think she’s very happy.’
‘So tell me more about the ball.’ Henrietta was already bored of the subject of someone who held no interest for her. ‘Will it be terribly grand?’
‘Oh, I don’t think grand. Just … fabulous. Everyone’s to wear white. There’ll be lots of wonderful food – Daisy, the cook, is a marvel. She’s the one who did our wedding cake. Champagne, dancing till dawn—’
‘So the wedding you didn’t have, then?’
Clementine frowned. Henrietta could be so direct.
‘You know I didn’t want a fuss.’
‘Oh, Clem. You need to learn to put yourself first if you’re going to survive that family. They’re going to walk all over you.’
‘We didn’t want a fuss,’ Clementine corrected herself.
Henrietta fixed her with a stern glare. ‘I know you. You’ll be running around after them all, trying to sort their lives out. Just like you do Ben. Honestly, he’s a grown man and he does not need you mollycoddling him.’
‘I don’t mollycoddle him. I organise him. That’s what he pays me for.’ Clementine was defiant, but Henrietta had struck a nerve. ‘And anyway, I’m not working for him at the moment.’
‘People like that know how to use people like you.’
‘What do you mean, people like me?’
‘You’re too good. And kind.’
‘You’re making me sound like a doormat. And Alfie wouldn’t ever use me. He doesn’t have a manipulative bone in his body.’
‘Just be careful of the women. Elizabeth. Diana. They know exactly how to get what they want.’ Henrietta grinned. ‘Trust me. It takes one to know one.’
And she bit into a miniature rum baba.
On the way home, Clementine mulled over Henrietta’s words.
Her friend was very perceptive, but she was also a harsh judge of other people and never gave anyone the benefit of the doubt.
She was black and white, whereas Clementine liked to look under the surface, spotting the flaws, the insecurities, the nuances, for life was complicated.
And she was very aware that people made mistakes, getting themselves into situations they couldn’t control.
She could imagine exactly how Elizabeth had fallen under Jasper’s spell.
But was it any of her business? No. She felt burdened by the secret though, and guilty for keeping it from Alfie.
You should never have secrets from your husband in a good marriage, she thought.
Or perhaps you should? Perhaps there were things the person you loved should never know, to protect them.
Alfie certainly didn’t need to know about his mother’s infidelity.
And then there was the mystery of Stella and Ted.
What on earth was she supposed to do about them?
At the moment, she was working on supposition, but the clues were screaming at her.
Ted’s likeness to Edwin, his name and the signet ring all suggested a connection – there were too many coincidences.
But even if Ted was Edwin’s son, what then?
Stella obviously didn’t want anyone in the family to know, but why not?
Did she have the right to keep Ted from them?
And if they did find out about him, what would happen?