only been married six years. She could still get pregnant. Min is perfect for him. And don’t look at me like that, Mother, so very superior and knowing. It just so happens that I know my son better than you do. Anthony might have strength of character, as you’re so fond of pointing out to me whenever you get the opportunity. Nonetheless, he does have certain weaknesses.’
Edwina stopped, uncertain about continuing, then decided her mother might as well know the truth. ‘Sex, for one thing,’ she announced flatly, staring Emma down with a show of defiance. ‘He’ll go for a pretty face every time. He got himself into the most awful scrapes with women before he married Min.’ Edwina shook her head, and bit her lip, muttering in a low voice, ‘I don’t know how much Min actually knows, but I’m aware that in the last couple of years Anthony has had several affairs, and as usual with the wrong sort of women.’
Emma was not unduly surprised by this bit of information, nor was she particularly interested, and she did not rise to the bait. Instead she gave Edwina a curious look, asked, ‘What exactly do you mean by the wrong sort of women?’
‘You know very well what I mean, Mother. Unsuitable females with no background or breeding. A man in Anthony’s position, a peer of the realm with enormous responsibilities, should have a wife who comes from the aristocracy, his own class, who understands his way of life.’
Stifling her amusement at Edwina’s hidebound snobbery, Emma said, ‘Oh for God’s sake, stop talking like a Victorian dowager. We’re living in the twenty-first century – well almost. Your views are outdated, my dear.’
‘I might have known you’d say something like that,’ Edwina replied in a snooty voice. ‘I must admit, you constantly surprise me, Mother. For a woman of your immense wealth and power you are awfully careless about certain things. Background is one of them.’
Emma chuckled and sipped her sherry and her eyes twinkled over the rim of the glass. ‘People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,’ she said, and chuckled again.
Edwina’s face coloured, and then wrinkling her nose in a gesture of distaste, she said, ‘I dread to think of who he’ll end up with, if this divorce ever goes through.’
‘Oh it’s going through all right,’ Emma said in her softest tone. ‘I think you would be wise to accept that. Immediately. It’s a fact of life you cannot change.’
‘We’ll see about that. Min has to agree before he can do anything.’
‘But, my dear Edwina, she has agreed.’
Edwina was shocked and she stared at her mother through horrified eyes, trying to grasp these words. For a split second she was disbelieving, and then with a sinking heart she acknowledged that her mother spoke the truth. Whatever else she was, Emma Harte was not a liar. Furthermore, her information was always reliable, deadly accurate. Edwina finally stammered, ‘But … but …’ Her voice let her down, and she was unable to continue. She reached for her glass with a shaking hand, and then put it back on the table without drinking from it. Slowly she said, ‘But Min didn’t say anything to me last night when we had dinner. How very strange. We’ve always been close. Why, she’s been like a daughter to me. I wonder why she didn’t confide in me, she always has in the past.’ Edwina’s face was a picture of dismay as she pondered Min’s extraordinary behaviour, and her very perplexing reticence.
For the first time, with a sudden flash of insight, Emma understood why her daughter was so frantic. She was obviously on intimate terms with Min, happy in the relationship. Yes, she was comfortable, secure and safe with her daughter-in-law. Anthony, in upsetting the matrimonial applecart, had put his mother’s world in jeopardy, or at least so Edwina believed. She was petrified of change, of a new woman in her son’s life, who may not accept her quite as readily as Min had, who might even alienate her son from her.
Leaning towards Edwina, Emma said with more gentleness than usual, ‘Perhaps Min was afraid to tell you, afraid of distressing you further. Look here, you mustn’t feel threatened by this divorce. It’s not going to change your life that much, and I’m sure Anthony won’t object if you remain friendly with Min.’ She attempted a light laugh. ‘And after all, Anthony is getting a divorce from Min, not from you, Edwina. He would never do anything to hurt you,’ she placated.
‘He already has. His behaviour is unforgivable.’ Edwina’s voice was harsh and unrelenting and her face flooded with bitterness.
Emma drew back, and the irritation she had been suppressing suddenly rose up in her. Her mouth curved down in a tight line, and her eyes turned cold. ‘You’re a selfish woman, Edwina,’ she admonished. ‘You’re not thinking of Anthony, you’re only concerned with yourself. You claim your son is the centre of your life, well, if he is, you have a damn poor way of showing it. He needs your love and support at a difficult time like this, not your animosity.’ Emma threw her a condemning stare. ‘I don’t understand you. There’s far too much resentment and hostility in you, for everyone, not only me. I can’t imagine why. You’ve had a good life, your marriage was happy, at least I presume it was. I know Jeremy adored you, and I always thought you loved him.’ Her glance remained fixed on Edwina. ‘I hope to God you did love him, for your own sake. Yet despite all the wonderful things life has given you, you are filled with an all-consuming anger. Please turn away from it, put this bitterness out of your heart once and for all.’
Edwina remained engulfed in silence, her expression as obdurate as ever, and Emma went on, ‘Trust your son, trust his judgement. I certainly do. You’re knocking your head against a brick wall, fighting this divorce. You can’t possibly win. In fact, you’ll end up the loser. You’ll drive Anthony away forever.’ She searched her daughter’s face, seeking a sign of softening on her part, but it was still closed and unyielding.
Sighing to herself, Emma thought: I give up. I’ll never get through to her. And then she felt compelled to make one last stab at convincing her to change her views. She cautioned gravely, ‘You’ll end up a lonely old woman. I can’t believe you would want that to happen. And if you think I have an axe to grind, remember I have nothing to gain. Very genuinely, Edwina, I simply want to prevent you from making the most terrible mistake.’
Although Edwina was unresponsive, sat huddled in the chair, avoiding her mother’s penetrating eyes, she had been listening attentively for the last few minutes, and digesting Emma’s words. They had struck home, Emma’s belief to the contrary. Now, in the inner recesses of Edwina’s mind, something stirred. It was a dim awareness that she had been wrong. Suddenly, discomfort with herself overwhelmed her, and she felt guilty about Anthony. She had been selfish, more selfish than she had realized until this moment. It was true that she loved Min like the daughter she had never had, and she dreaded the thought of losing her. But she dreaded losing her son more. And that had already begun to happen.
Edwina did not have much insight, nor was she a clever woman, but she was not without a certain intelligence, and this now told her that Anthony had turned to his grandmother in desperation, had confided in Emma instead of her. Resentment and jealousy, her worst traits, flared within her at the thought of this betrayal on her son’s part. And then, with a wisdom uncommon for her, she put aside these feelings. Anthony had not really been treacherous or disloyal. It was all her fault. She was driving him away from her, as her mother had pointed out. Emma was being sincere in trying to bridge the rift rapidly developing between herself and her son. Emma did want them to remain close, that seemed obvious, if she considered her words dispassionately and with fairness. This admission astonished Edwina, and against her volition she experienced a feeling of gratitude to her mother for making this effort on her behalf.
Edwina spoke slowly, in a muted voice. ‘It’s been a shock, the divorce, I mean. But you’re right, Mother. I must think of Anthony first. Yes, it’s his happiness that counts.’
For the first time in her life, Edwina found herself turning to Emma for help. Her anger and bitterness now somewhat diffused, she asked softly, ‘What do you think I should do, Mother? He must be very angry with me.’
Believing that her attempts