Part 13 (1/2)
”He should be proud you paint so beautifully.”
”He is not proud. Besides, I don't paint well enough.” He shook his head resignedly. ”I do it for myself. I will never be good enough to do it professionally.”
”Why not?”
He flashed her an enchanting smile and for an instant gazed at her with eyes full of affection. ”Because I am realistic, Ava. I don't live in a world of dreams. I know I am not good enough. Papa knows that, too.”
”Just because you won't make money doesn't mean it's not a worthwhile thing to do.”
”I know that.”
”So, what does your father expect of you?”
”To run the vineyard. To make good wine. To uphold the family name. To inherit the chateau and produce a son to pa.s.s it all on as he has done.”
”Couldn't you just tell him to b.u.g.g.e.r off? You're not a child.”
Jean-Paul put down his sandwich and suddenly looked troubled. ”I don't want to hurt my mother. I am all she has.” He held her a moment with his eyes. ”She has no marriage. My father has a mistress in Paris. Maman lives in Bordeaux. Les Lucioles means everything to her. It would break her heart if Papa disinherited me.”
”I don't understand. You're doing what he wants because of a chateau?”
”It is not just any chateau. It is special. Perhaps one day you will see it, then you will understand. It is as magical to me as Hartington House is to you.”
”It must be very magical then.”
”I agreed to come here because Maman asked me to. It is not just about the chateau, it is about my mother and doing what is right. She loves her home, too, and has put her heart into it. The love she should be investing in my father she invests in me and Les Lucioles.”
”You're in the middle of something bigger than you,” she acknowledged.
”Yes.”
”Some people make their lives so complicated.”
”I don't think they mean to.”
”Perhaps not. I'm grateful for my simple life. It might not be spicy but it's tranquil. I'd sacrifice a lot for tranquility.”
”You and Phillip are lucky. You have a good marriage.”
”I know.” She smiled tenderly. ”He's a good egg.”
”A good egg?” Jean-Paul laughed incredulously.
”Oh, you've never heard that expression?” He shook his head. ”A good egg, as eggs run, but who likes runny eggs? Do you get it?” They laughed together. Hearing it with the ears of a foreigner made Ava realize what a very silly expression it was.
That afternoon, when the children returned from school, they came to watch their mother in the garden. Phillip strode out, in a green Barbour and wellies, to take the dogs for a walk. Bernie and Tarquin rolled about on the gra.s.s in excitement, their barking biting into the damp air. ”Don't forget your parents are coming for the weekend, Shrub,” he reminded her, as he set off towards the dovecote.
”Phillip thinks I have no memory for things other than plants,” she told Jean-Paul with a chuckle. ”He thinks I inhabit another world. 'Planet Ava'!”
”I'd like to live on Planet Ava,” he said, taking a swig of beer.
”I don't think you would. It's a lonely planet really.”
”I like to be alone, too.”
”Good. I won't worry about you in the cottage then. I was about to invite all Toddy's cousins over to meet you.”
”There's alone and lonely,” he said with a grin. ”I like to be alone, but I don't like to be lonely, so if they are pretty, I would be happy to meet them.” He stood up and laughed, holding out his hand to Ava. He pulled her up.
”All right, Mr. Frenchman!” she said. ”I'll call Toddy. But if they're pigs don't blame me. I know the French have very high standards when it comes to women.”
”Perhaps. But the English have something that the French don't have.”
”What's that?”
”A sense of humor.”
She laughed. ”I'm so glad it's not all about manicures and silk underwear.”
”But imagine the power of that combination-silk underwear and a sense of humor? A woman like that would be something, no?”
”I can't say I've given the matter much thought. Now, back to the garden, you! Save your s.e.xy thoughts for when you're lonely in the cottage.”
Archie, Angus and Poppy helped load the cart with the turf that Ava and Jean-Paul cut with their spades, rolling it up like long carpets. When they grew bored of that game they searched for insects in the newly exposed soil, squeaking in delight when they found a fat worm or centipede. Ava had taught them to love all creatures, explaining their purpose in the garden and how they lived, so that the children respected them as living beings and not as playthings to abuse. ”Look, Mummy! Here's a really juicy worm,” cried Archie, placing it carefully on a leaf and carrying it to his mother.
”He's delicious,” she agreed, stopping to look. ”Now darling, find a nice place for him. With any luck a bird will find him later. He'll make a feast for a hungry pigeon.” Once he had shown his siblings, Archie did as he was told and settled the worm in the mud. Angus climbed onto the tractor and made purring noises, turning the steering wheel left and right while Poppy pretended the rolls of turf were Swiss rolls on their way to the bakery. The garden rang with their laughter. It was just another day at Hartington House. For Jean-Paul it was a new and exciting world. He had no experience of a united and loving family.
That evening Ava invited Jean-Paul to stay for dinner. They sat in the drawing room, by the fire, having bathed and changed out of their muddy clothes. The children were in bed, exhausted after so much fresh air. Phillip came downstairs in a smoking jacket and slippers, having read them The Velveteen Rabbit, and opened a bottle of wine. ”Your garden's beginning to take shape,” he said, bringing in a tray of gla.s.ses. Ava sat on the sofa, her hair tied in a loose ponytail so that wisps floated about her face and neck. She wore wide trousers under a long Moroccan housecoat and a pair of crimson sequined slippers. Her cheeks glowed from having worked in the cold all day and her eyes sparkled with happiness. It had been a perfect day.
”We'll plant it up next,” she said, grinning at Jean-Paul. ”Our reward will come in spring. It's going to look marvelous!” Jean-Paul lay sprawled in an armchair, his hair damp from the bath and sticking up in points.
”I never thought digging a garden would be fun,” he admitted.
”This is only the beginning. Digging is the boring bit,” said Ava. ”The planting is the fun part. Watching the gardens grow is the icing on the cake.”
”What are you going to plant?” Phillip asked, handing them both gla.s.ses of wine, then taking a seat himself.
”I've drawn a sketch,” she said, pulling a roughly folded piece of paper from her coat pocket. ”I want an explosion of color. I want it stuffed full of shrubs and plants.” She looked at Jean-Paul, knowing that he knew she was thinking of his painting. ”I thought buddleia, geraniums, roses, polyanthus, campanula, lavender, delphiniums, lupins, daisies. Goodness, I haven't held back.”
”It sounds marvelously chaotic. Rather like you, Shrub.” Phillip chuckled in his good-natured way.
”We've bitten off quite a lot more than we can chew, but I think we can do it. Jean-Paul and Hector are prepared to work like slaves.”
”I'm a good egg!” Jean-Paul said and laughed.
”A good egg, as eggs run,” Ava added with a grin. ”We'll send you back to France an Englishman.”
”I raise my gla.s.s to that,” added Phillip.
”Mummy.” Poppy was standing in the doorway in her white nightie, holding her marrow in a blanket. ”He can't sleep,” she said, hugging it close.