The Ashford Affair Read Free Page B

of it, not really. It was David with whom she would build a life, share a flat, share a bed, grow old and grow roses—or whatever other plant it was among which they would gently potter, surrounded by children and grandchildren, all as clever as he.
    “We’re to be engaged when I get back,” she said, and it came out more belligerently than she had intended.
    “So you’re engaged to be engaged?” It did sound rather ridiculous when put that way. Bea smiled a crooked little smile. “Isn’t that funny. I had thought—well, never mind. Look. Here we are.”
    “Here” appeared to be a monster of a car, a massive square thing that reminded Addie of the estate cars back at Ashford, designed for moving both men and game. There were two men standing by the side, deep in conversation, in which she could hear “elevation” and “fertilizer.” The one on the right was shortish, on the wrong side of middle age, with a face like an amiable turtle beneath a round hat with a wide brim.
    The other man had his back to them, but Addie would have known him just the same. He had always been thin, too thin the last time she had seen him, but the casual clothes of the colony suited him; he looked rangy rather than lanky, the short sleeves of his shirt displaying skin that had acquired a healthy glow. Unlike his companion, he wore no hat. The sun had burned lighter streaks into his dark hair.
    “Look who I’ve found!” called Bea, and he turned, his face breaking into a smile of welcome.
    “Addie,” he said. “It is. It’s really Addie.”
    He smiled, and Addie’s heart turned over with a sickening lurch, five years gone in five minutes.
    Addie felt suddenly cold, cold despite the warmth of the day. She looked at Bea, shining in the sun, at Frederick. The mustache he had once sported was gone; he was clean-shaven now, his face tan where it had once been pale. There were lines by his eyes that hadn’t been there before, white in the brown of his face, but they suited him. The circles of dissipation were gone, burned away by sun and work.
    From far away, she could hear David’s voice. Why?
    This was why. This had always been why. Addie fought against a blinding wave of despair and desire, all mixed up in sun and sweat, dust and confusion. She wanted to curl into a ball, to cry her frustration out into the dust, to turn, to flee, to run away.
    David was right; she should have left well enough alone. She stood have stayed home in the cool of England, in her safe flat with her safe almost fiancé, instead of poking at emotions better left buried.
    Frederick held out a hand to her, and there it was, glinting in the sun, the gold ring that marked him as Bea’s.
    “We didn’t think you’d come,” he said.
    I can still go away again, she wanted to say. Forget that I was here. But that was the coward’s path. There was, as Nanny used to say, no way out but through.
    Addie set her bag carefully down by her feet, flexing her sore hand. By the time she had straightened, she had her pleasant social smile fixed firmly on her face.
    “Well, here I am,” she said, and took Frederick’s hand. His ring pressed against her palm, a reminder, a warning. “How could I stay away?”

 
    PART ONE
    ASHFORD

 
    ONE
    New York, 1999
    Clemmie hurried beneath the awning of her grandmother’s building, panting a quick hello in response to the doorman’s greeting.
    He started to say something, but she kept on going, heels click-click-clacking on the marble floor. She tossed a “hello” over her shoulder, flapping her hand in a wave.
    It was Granny Addie’s ninety-ninth birthday party and Clemmie was late.
    She steamed through the foyer, loosening her coat and scarf as she went. Despite the November cold, she felt sweaty straight through, clammy with perspiration beneath the layers of bra, blouse, suit jacket, and coat. She’d meant to change into a dress, but there hadn’t been time, so here she was, disheveled and blistered, hair any