The Woman From Paris by Santa Montefiore Page B

shock, and so you have to give yourself time and space to grieve.And you mustn’t feel guilty or that you are a burden to your family and friends, because if you don’t let it all out, it will bury down deep and never go away. It will only find a moment later on in your life to come back and manifest as physical pain.” For a moment his eyes darkened, but he seemed to push through the sudden wave of sadness and continue with a compassionate smile. “You must talk about it as much as you can, Lady Frampton. One day you’ll discover that it doesn’t hurt anything like as much as it does now.”
    “Antoinette is certainly no burden to me, Dr. Heyworth,” said Rosamunde firmly.
    “Good. Do you live nearby?”
    “In Dorset, about an hour away. But I’ll stay here for as long as she wants me to.”
    The doctor nodded his approval. “I’m very pleased to hear it.”
    By now Wooster had slid to the floor in a happy slumber, with his head resting on Dr. Heyworth’s feet. Dr. Heyworth bent down and stroked his ear. It twitched with pleasure. “How are the boys?” he asked Antoinette.
    She took a deep breath, calmer now. “David is dealing with it in his own quiet way. Tom comes across as not really caring very much, but I know he’s dreadfully sad. As you’ll appreciate, he’s not very good at coping with problems. So he puts his head under the carpet and pretends that everything is all right. I’d rather that than the alternative.”
    “He’s avoiding alcohol?”
    Antoinette picked at the ragged cuticle on her thumb. “He drank at the funeral, as one would expect. But generally he’s being very careful. This is a testing time for him, but he’s being very strong.”
    “And Joshua?”
    “He’s so uncomfortable with emotion, he’d rather move on as swiftly as possible and get on with his life.”
    “This has been very tough on you all. When death happens so unexpectedly, there’s no time to prepare for it. It’s a great shock. And an accident like Lord Frampton’s seems unnecessary. It’s natural to feel angry, too, Lady Frampton.”
    Antoinette’s face livened as the doctor articulated what she was too ashamed to admit: that she resented her husband’s lack of caution as he had selfishly sought pleasure without any apparent concern for those who loved him.
    Dr. Heyworth knew he had touched a nerve. He stood up. “You can come to see me any time,” he said to Antoinette. “Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who is not in the family. I’m always here for you, Lady Frampton.”
    Antoinette saw the sympathy in his eyes and knew that he meant it. In fact, he seemed to understand why she was cold all the time and how hard she was trying to act normally, when she just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. He hadn’t said a great deal, but she could sense in his expression the words left unspoken, and was grateful. “I’d like that very much,” she replied.
    “I’m not at my practice anymore, but you’re welcome to come to my home. I occasionally see patients there, and it works very well. I’ve looked after your family for over thirty years. I hope you consider me a friend as well as a doctor. You can call me any time.”
    He bade good-bye to Rosamunde, and Antoinette walked him through the hall. Harris helped the doctor into his coat and opened the door. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said, folding her arms against the cold although the sun shone bright and warm. He waved and climbed into his Volvo.
    As he departed she saw the formidable figure of her mother-in-law striding purposefully across the field beyond the drive with Basil, her Yorkshire terrier, scurrying around in the grass like a large mouse. Margaret was wearing a long olive-green coat, headscarf, and boots, and carrying a stick, although at the rate she was moving she clearly didn’t need it for support. Antoinette dashed back inside to wipe her face and compose herself, but she knew there was no point running to