Jewels (47 page)

They filed silently out of the church, as she held Isabelle’s hand, and Julian put an arm around her. Emanuelle had come down from Paris, and she walked out of the church on Phillip’s arm. They were a small group, and Sarah served lunch at the château afterwards for everyone. The locals had come to pay their respects, too, and Sarah invited them in to lunch as well, those who had served him, and known him, and loved him. She couldn’t even begin to imagine a life now without him.

She looked numb as she walked around the living room, offering people wine, or shaking their hands, or listening to their stories about Monsieur le Duc, but this had been his real life, the life they had built and shared, over twenty-six years. It was impossible to understand now that it was over.

Nigel had flown over from London too. And he cried as they buried him, as Sarah did, and Julian held her in his arms as she cried. It was more than she could bear, seeing him there next to Lizzie. It seemed only yesterday that they had come here and talked about it … about her …. and about having Xavier, who was such a joy to her now. But the tragedy was, he would never know his father. He would have two brothers to care for him, and a mother and sister who adored him, but he would never know the man William had been, and it broke her heart to know that.

Two days later they all travelled to London together for the memorial service. It was filled with pomp and ceremony. All of his relatives were there, and the Queen was, too, and her children. Afterwards they all drove to Whitfield, where they had four hundred people to tea. Sarah felt like an automaton as she shook hands with everyone, and she turned suddenly when she heard someone say behind her, “Your Grace,” and heard a man’s voice answer. For a crazed moment, she thought William had entered the room, but she gave a start when she saw that it was Phillip. And for the first time she realized that her son was the duke now.

It was a hard time for all of them, a time she would always remember. She didn’t know where to go, or what to do to escape the anguish of what she felt. If she went to Whitfield, he would be there, and at the château even more so. If she stayed at the hotel in London, all she could do was think of him, and the apartment in Paris filled her with dread, they had been so happy there, and they had stayed at the Ritz on their honeymoon … there was nowhere to go, and nowhere to run to. He was everywhere, in her heart, in her soul, in her mind, and in each of them, whenever she looked at her children.

“What are you going to do?” Phillip asked her quietly as she sat at Whitfield one day, staring out the window. She had absolutely no idea at all, and suddenly she didn’t give a damn about her business, she would have given it to him gladly. But he was only twenty-six years old, he still had a lot to learn, and Julian was only fifteen, even if one day he wanted to run the shop in Paris.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. He’d been gone for a month by then, and she still couldn’t think straight. “I keep trying to figure it out, and I can’t. I don’t know where to go, or what to do. I keep wondering what he would have wanted me to do.”

“I think he would have wanted you to go on,” Phillip said honestly, “with everything … the business, I mean… and everything you used to do with him. You can’t just stop living.” But there were times when she was tempted.

“Sometimes I’d like to.”

“I know, but you can’t,” he said quietly. “We all have an obligation.” And his were heavier than most now. He had inherited Whitfield, Julian would never have any share in it. He would in the château, which he would share with Isabelle and Xavier, but that was the injustice of the English system. And Phillip had the burden of the title on his shoulders now, too, and all that that carried with it. His father had worn it gracefully and well, and Sarah was not quite so sure about Phillip.

“What about you?” she asked him gently then. “What are you going to do now?”

“The same things I’ve been doing,” he answered hesitantly, and then he decided to tell her something he hadn’t yet. “One of these days there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” It seemed an odd time to tell her, which was why he hadn’t. He had wanted to tell them about Cecily at Christmas, but his father had been so ill, he never mentioned it.

“Someone special?”

“More or less.” He blushed and answered vaguely.

“Maybe we could have dinner together, before I leave England.”

“I’d like that very much,” he said shyly. He was different from the rest of the family, yet she was still his mother.

She reminded him of it again two weeks later, when she was thinking about going back to Paris. Emanuelle had had some problems with the shop, and Isabelle had to go back to school. She had kept her at Whitfield with her, although Julian had returned weeks before, to go back to school.

“What about the friend you wanted me to have dinner with?” she prodded gently, and he was vague.

“Oh that. … you probably don’t have time before you leave.”

“Yes, I do,” she contradicted him. “I always have time for you. When would you like to do it?” He was sorry he had ever mentioned it, but she made him as comfortable as she could, as they made a date to go to the Connaught for dinner. And the girl she met there the following night didn’t surprise her at all, she only wished she had. She was so typically English. She was tall and spare and pale, and she almost never spoke. She was extremely well-bred, and totally respectable and the most boring girl Sarah thought she had ever met. She was Lady Cecily Hawthorne. Her father was an important Cabinet minister, and she was a very nice girl, incredibly proper and well-bred, but Sarah couldn’t help wondering how Phillip could stand her. She had absolutely no sex appeal, there was nothing warm and cozy about her, she was certainly not a person you could ever laugh with. And Sarah tried to mention that to him gently before she left the next morning.

“She’s a lovely girl,” she said over breakfast.

“I’m glad you like her.” He seemed very pleased, and Sarah found herself wondering how serious this was and if she should worry. Here she had a baby in diapers on her hands, and now she had to worry about daughters-in-law, and William was gone. There was no justice in the world, she moaned to herself, as she tried to look casual to Phillip.

“Is it serious?” she asked, trying not to choke on a piece of toast when he nodded. “Very serious?”

“It could be. She’s certainly the kind of girl you’d want to marry.”

“I can see why you think that, dear,” she said, trying to sound calm to him, and wondering if he believed her. “And she’s a lovely girl… but is she enough fun? That’s something to think about. Your father and I always had such a good time together. That’s an important thing in a marriage.”

“Fun?” he said, with a look of astonishment. “Fun? What difference could that possibly make? Mother, I don’t understand you.”

“Phillip.” She decided to be honest with him, and hoped she wouldn’t regret it. “Good breeding isn’t enough. You need something more… a little character, someone you want to jump in and out of bed with.” He was old enough to hear the truth from her, and it was 1966 after all, not 1923 Young people were going to San Francisco and wearing bedspreads and flowers in their hair, surely he couldn’t be that stuffy. But the amazing thing was that he was. He seemed appalled as he looked at his mother.

“Well, I can certainly see you and Father did a lot of that, but that doesn’t mean I intend to choose my wife by those standards.” She knew at that exact moment that if he married this girl, he would be making a terrible mistake, but she also knew that if she told him that, he’d never believe her.

“Do you still believe in a double standard, Phillip? That you play with one kind of girl, and marry another? Or do you really like the serious, well-bred ones? Because if you like playing with the sexy, fun ones, and you marry a proper one, you could be in for a lot of trouble.” It was the best she could do under the circumstances, but she could see he got it.

“I have my position to think of,” he said, sounding very annoyed with her.

“So did your father, Phillip And he married me. And I don’t think he regretted it. At least, I hope not.” She smiled sadly at her eldest son, feeling as though he were a total stranger.

“You were from a perfectly good family, even if you were divorced.” She had told them all long ago, so no one else would. “I take it you don’t like Cecily then?” he asked icily, as he stood up and prepared to leave the table.

“I like her very much. I just think that if you’re thinking about marrying her, you need to think seriously about what you want in a wife. She’s a very nice girl, but she’s very serious, and not very outgoing.” Sarah had always known he had a passion for racier girls “on the side,” from tales she’d heard in London and Paris. He liked to be seen and photographed with the “right” kind of girls, but at the same time, he enjoyed the others. And there was no doubt that Cecily was one of the “right” ones. But she was also a very dull one.

“She’d make an excellent Duchess of Whitfield,” Phillip said austerely.

“I suppose that’s important. But is it enough?” She felt compelled to ask him.

“I think I’m the best judge of that,” he said, and she nodded, hoping he was right, but convinced that he wasn’t.

“I only want what’s best for you,” she told him as she kissed him, and he went into the city then, and she went back to Paris that afternoon with her two younger children. She took them back to the château, and left them with Julian, and then she went back to Paris for a few days to attend to business, but her heart wasn’t in it anymore, and all she wanted to do was go back to the château and visit his grave, which Emanuelle told her was morbid.

It took her a long time to feel like herself again, and it was only that summer that she felt halfway normal. And then Phillip announced to them that he was marrying Cecily Hawthorne. Sarah was sorry for him, but she would never have said so. They were going to live in his London flat, and spend a great deal of time at Whitfield. She would keep her horses there, but Phillip assured his mother that she could use the hunting box whenever she wanted. He and Cecily were taking over the main house of course. He never even mentioned the other children.

Sarah didn’t have to make any wedding plans. The Hawthornes did all that, and the wedding was held at their family seat in Staffordshire. The Whitfields arrived en masse, and Sarah took Julian’s arm. It was a Christmas wedding, and she had worn a beige wool Chanel suit for the wedding breakfast.

Isabelle was wearing a sweet white velvet dress, with a matching coat trimmed in ermine, and Xavier was wearing a little black velvet suit from La Châteleine in Paris. Julian looked incredibly handsome in his morning coat, as did Phillip. And the bride looked very nice in her grandmother’s lace dress. She was a little too tall for it, and the veil sat oddly on her head, and if Sarah had had someone to gossip with, like Emanuelle, who hadn’t come, she would have admitted that she looked awful, like a great dry stick of a girl, with no charm and no sex appeal whatsoever. She hadn’t even bothered to wear makeup. But Phillip seemed very pleased with her. The wedding was the week before Christmas, and they were spending their honeymoon in the Bahamas.

Sarah couldn’t help wondering what William would have thought of them. It depressed her as she went back to Claridge’s that night, that she didn’t like the first daughter-in-law she had, and she suddenly wondered if she’d have any better luck with the others.

It was an odd life. These children, who did such strange things. Who led their own lives, in their own way, with people who appealed to no one but themselves. It made her even lonelier for William as they flew back to Paris, and drove to the château. It was the first Christmas they’d spent without him … a year since he’d died … and Xavier would be two years old on New Year’s Day. Her mind was full of memories as they drove home. But as she pulled up slowly in front of the château at dusk, she saw a man standing there, who looked so familiar to her and yet so different. She wondered if she was dreaming, as she stared at him. But she wasn’t. It was he … and for a moment he looked as though he had barely changed. He walked slowly toward her with a gentle smile, and she could only stare at him. … It was Joachim.

Chapter 24

S
Sarah stepped out of the Rolls in front of the château, she looked as though she had seen a ghost, and in some ways, she had. It had been almost twenty-three years since she’d seen him. Twenty-three years since he’d kissed her good-bye, and taken his troops back to Germany. She had never heard from him again, or known if he had lived or died, but she had thought of him often, particularly when she thought of Lizzie.

She stepped slowly out of the car, and he looked at her long and hard. She had changed very little. She was still a beauty. She looked more dignified now, her hair was only a little gray. She had turned fifty that year, but looking at her, it was hard to believe it.

“Who is that?” Julian whispered. The man looked very strange. He was thin and old and he was staring at their mother.

“It’s all right, darling. He’s an old friend. Take the children inside.” He picked Xavier up, and took Isabelle with him, and they went into the château, looking over their shoulders, as Sarah slowly approached him. “Joachim?” she whispered, as he came slowly toward her with the smile she knew so well. “What are you doing here?” He had waited so long to come. And why now? There was so much to tell him, and to ask him.