Vintage by Rosemary Friedman Read Free Book Online Page B

grandest of fêtes champêtres and an Irish wake. Stumbling into the wrong bedroom – given the size of the château it was a mistake easily made – during a lull in the festivities, Viola came across her bridegroom, his wedding trousers about his ankles, covering one of the more nubile guests. It was not only this discovery, but the fact that, despite Charles-Louis’ pathological weakness for women (a proclivity she was yet to discover), he hated to spend the night with them, that led them, for the eight years of their marriage, to occupy separate bedrooms.
    When Clare Gertrude Sophie Elinore de Cluzac was born, six months after the nuptials, Charles-Louis, having been informed of the child’s gender, held her awkwardly in his arms for a few moments. He managed a brief kiss on his wife’s brow, together with a few embarrassed words of congratulation, before repairing, disappointed, to the vineyards in which an exceptionally mild January had caused the sap to rise in the vines prematurely. It was left to Baron Thibault, who was delighted with his granddaughter, to make all the right noises.
    Although, as an Irishwoman, Viola seemed to possess a certain insight into the character of a horse, she was not a natural mother, and her ideas about child-rearing had been gleaned from the stables.
    She believed that early training was as important as a good education, and that if children were started early enough, and dealt with intelligently enough, they would become good children. In England, where the custom was to treat foals gently when first handled and ridden, they behaved like spoiled brats. They needed to feel the hand of the trainer to control and guide them, although punishment should be administered at the moment of misbehaviour and should never be too severe. They should be taught early on the habit of obedience, so that it became a second instinct, and to do what was required of them should seem as natural as to eat when they were hungry and to lie down when they wanted to go to sleep.
    It was a question of the more you spare the rod the less you spoil the child. As you bend the twig so grows the tree, and education should be as gradual as moonrise, and perceptible not in progress but in result.
    The result of this upbringing had been to ensure that Clare was in awe of her mother, striving to be obedient, to anticipate her wishes and trotting to her side when called. For love and affection she had been dependent, as a baby, on the presence of Baronne Gertrude, who was besotted with her granddaughter. Following Baron Thibault’s tragic death and her grandmother’s summary departure – having been deprived of the attentions of nannies Forbes and McKay almost as soon as she had grown fond of them – she had relied on the comforting presence of Sidonie and the warmth of her kitchen.
    Now, watching Jamie as he expertly ground spices in the cramped Waterperry kitchen – she found watching the six-foot-two winger cook incredibly sexy – Clare allowed her thoughts to turn to Viola, with whom her relationship was civil but constrained. She knew that her mother, according to her lights, was fond of her and concerned about her welfare, but, as far as feelings wereconcerned, none, as far as she could remember, had ever been displayed.
    ‘How does coming to Ireland with me next weekend grab you?’
    ‘Kindly do not distract the cook.’
    ‘Don’t you want to meet my mother?’
    Jamie added the spices to the onions, which were sweating in a pan on the ancient Parkinson Cowan gas cooker, which had come with the cottage.
    ‘On the contrary. I think it’s about time I met my future mother-in-law.’
    Clare laid her head against Jamie’s broad back, feeling his muscles contract as he concentrated on the onions, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
    ‘If my father really is selling Cluzac we’ll be able to go to town on this cottage. We could build a mega extension…’
    ‘For the two of us?’
    ‘I wasn’t