Chapter Thirty
‘Edmund!’
Imogen stuttered his name. Beside her, Dexter went completely still.
‘You didn’t make yourself easy to track down, and then, when we get to the east of the country, there’s a bloody snow gauntlet to get through!’ He was still striding towards her, and the crowd were murmuring, because obviously this was a lot more interesting than their scene from Northanger Abbey.
‘There’s no snow in London?’ Why did she say that, of all things?
‘Not a flake.’ Edmund stopped in front of the stage and held his arms out.
His fair hair was fluffy, and his smile was beaming, as if the last few weeks and their few conversations – the one where she’d told him, quite forcefully, that it was definitively over between them – had passed him by. ‘Can I borrow you for a sec?’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to bring you home. To rescue you.’
‘I don’t …’ She couldn’t understand it. Was she stuck in a parallel universe?
Dexter stood next to her, brushing the back of his hand against hers. ‘We’re in the middle of a rehearsal.’
Edmund looked around the room, as if only now registering his surroundings. ‘What I have to say is important. I’ve come all the way from London, battled through the snow, had to search through this godforsaken village, and now I’m going to speak to my fiancée.’
There were several gasps, and Imogen swallowed.
‘Edmund, we spoke about this.’ She kept her voice calm and clear, even though she was trembling.
‘I told you that I-I don’t …’ She couldn’t say it in front of everyone; she couldn’t be that cruel.
She suspected, now she’d had weeks to think about their relationship, all his past behaviour, that he knew that, which was why he’d interrupted the rehearsal rather than waiting quietly until the end.
‘Don’t what?’ he asked innocently, and she gritted her teeth.
‘You need to wait until we’re finished.’ Dexter hadn’t stepped in front of her, but he’d moved closer.
She could feel his little finger sliding against hers.
‘This rehearsal is important to Imogen, it matters to all of us, and you can’t come here and break it up just because you want to speak to her.
Imogen?’ He turned towards her. ‘It’s up to you what you do, OK? You’re in charge.’
She glanced between Edmund, the rapt onlookers, and Dexter. She loved that he was standing up for her, but she also knew that if she didn’t talk to Edmund, then he would never go away. He just wouldn’t.
She looked Dexter in the eye. ‘I’m going to talk to him. Only for a bit, OK? I need to do this, so he understands.’
‘You don’t have to.’ He said it lightly, but his expression was guarded. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I can step in – I promised you, didn’t I?’
‘I haven’t forgotten, and that promise means a lot to me.
’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘You have no idea how much.’ She wished she could talk to him now, could convince him that she wasn’t wavering, but of course the moment she’d finally made a decision, chosen to follow her heart, her biggest fear had come true. She needed to set Edmund straight.
‘Imogen?’ Edmund snapped, his patience already wearing thin.
‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ She hesitated, then stretched up and kissed Dexter on the cheek.
She wanted to whisper in his ear that she was staying, that she wanted him for an amazing time and a long time, but she couldn’t do that now.
Instead, she hurried down the steps. ‘Can you leave us until last, Fiona?’
Fiona stared at her, as if the shock of everything she’d just witnessed, real-life drama on her Christmas stage, was all too much. Then she blinked and said, ‘Of course. Take your time.’
Edmund held his hand out but Imogen ignored it. She walked past him, assuming he would follow her, and he did. Her cheeks were red, her mortification overwhelming, as she asked Sophie if they could talk in her kitchen.
‘Of course.’ Sophie’s eyes were sharp with concern.
‘Thank you.’
She led Edmund through the hall and into the large kitchen which, despite the old bones of the house, had been recently refurbished, everything glossy and modern.
It was a contrast of white worktops, rich teal cupboards and gleaming silver appliances.
She didn’t sit at the farmhouse table, instead leaning against a counter.
Edmund hovered opposite her. She couldn’t help thinking of Northanger Abbey, of Henry Tilney’s observation about how being happy, giving in to your indulgences, always came at a price.
‘I am come, young ladies, in a very moralizing strain, to observe that our pleasures in this world are always to be paid for, and that we often purchase them at a great disadvantage, giving ready-monied actual happiness for a draft on the future, that may not be honoured.’
Was this it? Was her borrowed happiness over? The Imogen of two months ago would have accepted her fate, gone back to London with him. But not now.
‘Why did you come, Edmund?’ She crossed her arms.
‘To bring you home, of course. We’re four days away from Christmas, you’re about to miss your parents’ Christmas Eve bash, not to mention the day itself, and I thought you’d had long enough, now.’
‘Long enough for what?’
‘To get over … whatever it was that gave you cold feet. I am prepared to forgive you, you know.’ He gave her his crinkly-eyed smile.
‘My parents said that, if we don’t want to wait until next Halloween, to honour their wedding anniversary, Ma’s birthday is on the fifth of March and we could do it then, as a good second choice. ’
Imogen rubbed her forehead. Had she been invisible? Silent? Had he heard nothing she’d said? ‘It wasn’t cold feet. Or, if it was, it’s a permanent condition. I told you on the phone that it’s over. I don’t want to marry you.’
‘You’re so dramatic, Imo,’ he said fondly. ‘It’s not a good idea to be getting involved in all that acting malarkey again, is it? It clearly isn’t good for you.’
‘I’m dramatic? What about you coming all the way here, striding up the aisle in the middle of our rehearsal when we’ve already had this conversation? When I’ve told you it’s not going to happen?’
‘You don’t mean that.’ His smile faltered.
‘Of course I do,’ she said with a laugh. ‘You think I ran away from our wedding for fun?’
‘But we’re so good together.’
‘If you believe that, then you’ve been paying even less attention than I thought!’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Imogen sighed so that she didn’t scream. ‘You don’t want me, Edmund. You want to be connected to my family, to Rowsell & Patterson Law, and I was a gleaming tool in your arsenal. Marry the boss’s daughter, cement your future, get your surname added to the company header.’
‘Now hang on—’
‘I can’t believe you’re even thinking of denying it.
I heard you, talking to Dad. You want your reputation to precede you and your star to shine brightly, and to follow this …
this life path that you believe is the only way.
You’re charming, and you can be kind when there’s something in it for you, but we’re so mismatched. ’
Edmund made another noise of protest, but she kept going.
‘I took far too long to realize how wrong we are together. I got swept up in it because it was neat, and it was what Mum and Dad wanted, and because going to glamorous parties and lavish dinners and having nice things distracted me from the fact that we don’t care about each other enough to have any sort of future.
’ She swallowed. ‘It was terrible of me to leave you at the altar, and I am sorry about that, but this is still the right outcome. You can find someone you really love, who makes you happy, and I—’
‘You make me happy, when you’re not running off and being reckless.’
‘What if I want to be reckless? What if I want to get into acting again, and help people set up Facebook pages and untangle balls of wool, and read out stories to children and pensioners in a dusty village hall? How about if I wear trainers to parties because heels are too painful, or send silly Christmas cards? What if I said that I wanted to stay in on Christmas Eve in my pyjamas eating cheese, and not spend fifty quid on a box of crackers?’
‘God, Imogen—’
‘I know it’s not all you. I know it’s Mum and Dad too, but we are not a match made in heaven. We cared for each other, but there are women out there who are so much better for you than me, who want the same things as you: posh dinners and law firm bashes and weekends in the Cotswolds.’
‘There’s only you.’ Edmund moved closer.
‘There just isn’t. You know that, really.’
‘Imogen.’
‘We both deserve to be happy, and I …’ she looked him in the eye. ‘I won’t be happy, if I go back with you.’
There was a long, heavy silence. She held her breath, braced herself for his anger, but then Edmund said, ‘You meant it?’ He sounded more flummoxed than anything. Maybe he’d realized, finally, that she was serious.
‘I meant it. I’m sorry it’s happened this way, that I wasn’t braver, sooner. But this is for the best.’
‘I battled through the snow.’
‘In your Range Rover, on roads that were salted overnight. When there wasn’t any snow until you got to East Anglia?’
‘It’s pretty bloody cold out there.’
‘The Range Rover’s heating is broken?’
He frowned down at her, but his lip twitched. ‘It’s working fine,’ he admitted. ‘It really is over?’
‘It is,’ she said. ‘And look, you might find someone you’re absolutely obsessed with and can get married to next October. There’s nearly a whole year between now and then.’
‘What about your job? Your parents?’
‘I’ve spoken to Mum already, but I will need to do that again. There are some things I need to tell her.’
‘You could do it now.’ Edmund glanced around the kitchen, a furrow between his brows.
‘Sorry, what?’
‘I dropped her off at a cottage behind the green. She wanted to see her mum.’
Imogen stared. ‘Mum’s here? She’s talking to Birdie?’
Edmund nodded. ‘Should we go and find her?’
‘We have to.’ Imogen needed to speak to Dexter.
She’d walked out on their rehearsal, gone to Edmund despite him honouring their promise.
She’d asked him to protect her from her London life, and the moment it had encroached, she’d gone running.
But it was for a good reason, to give Edmund closure, and to allow her to move on, finally and properly.
She hoped Dexter would understand. ‘Can you give me two seconds?’
‘Of course.’ Edmund sounded weary, but he didn’t seem inconsolable, and Imogen knew he would bounce back. ‘Imogen?’ he called, and she stopped in the doorway. ‘There’s a goat in a Christmas jumper snoozing under the table.’
‘That’s Felix. He lives here.’
‘Of course he does. Maybe I’ll wait in the car.’
‘I’ll be five minutes.’ She hurried through the manor hall, hoping the rehearsal hadn’t finished.
But when she got back to the lounge, people were milling about, chatting and eating mince pies, and there was nobody on the stage.
She tried to ignore the ripple of interest that ran through the room when she walked in.
‘Are you OK?’ Fiona looked worried.
‘I’m fine. I’m so sorry I messed up the rehearsal. I would say that I’ll do it now, but my mum is here, and I have to see her.’ She peered over Fiona’s shoulder. ‘Where’s Dexter? I need to talk to him.’
‘He had an emergency at the bakery. One of the ovens has broken down, which could spell disaster for a whole lot of Christmas orders, so he couldn’t stay.’ She gave Imogen an apologetic smile. ‘He did say to tell you that he’d find you later.’
‘OK.’ Imogen couldn’t help worrying that he’d gone, but a rushed conversation would be worse than none at all. ‘Thank you. You’re sure you don’t mind that we didn’t rehearse?’
‘Jazz stood in for you, and I have no great concerns. It will be all right on the night, as they say. As long as you’re all right.’
‘I am.’ She could tell Fiona wanted more details, but there were other people ahead of her in the queue for explanations. She had no doubt the rest of the villagers would find out everything soon enough. ‘I have to go. See you soon.’
‘Take care in the snow,’ she called, and Imogen waved to show she’d heard, then hurried out to the hall, only just remembering to collect her coat on the way.
Edmund was waiting for her, idling the engine of his big, shiny Range Rover that would see the snow as a mere inconvenience.
But she didn’t want to dampen his spirits any further, and even though his white knight act hadn’t had the desired outcome, she hoped he would go back to London happier, and feeling positive about a future that didn’t include her.