CHAPTER ONE - NOAH
“I completely disagree with the colour for the bridesmaids’ dresses.
” My mother’s voice tore through the dusty peace of the salon.
We were seated in her favourite room in Wastham Hall, our family’s country home in Norfolk.
The room hadn’t changed since I was a child; the chair I’d been sitting in when she administered a scolding about my English grades was still proudly placed next to the window that overlooked the lawn, recovered in exactly the same material as it had been back then.
The settee was a new leather chesterfield, but exactly the same as the one that had been there when I received my first lecture on what a suitable girlfriend looked like.
And there was, of course, the small, walnut side table on which my mother’s latest notebook was placed.
I had no idea what was in those notebooks; I never did have the urge to take a look, but I was pretty sure it was a list of all my failings and misdemeanours. Lady Soames-Harrington was not one to overlook an error, no matter how small.
“I think it’s too late now to change.” I glanced out of the window where my niece was dancing around the lawn and hoped my mother didn’t notice. If she did, she’d complain that the child was ruining her grass.
The lawn, one should note, was key to her ladyship’s happiness.
This was something myself and my brothers had never fully understood.
Football, rugby, cricket and setting fire to the delicate blades of grass had been strictly forbidden and punishable in many, many ways.
To be fair, the setting fire I could understand – that had been problematic – but the rest…
when I had children, they’d be able to play on the lawn as much as they wanted.
Just as long as that lawn was not Lady Soames’.
“It’s never too late to change. I can have a seamstress to your fiancée’s apartment tomorrow to take measurements, and they’ll be ready with plenty of time for any alterations, although I can assure you that the people I would arrange wouldn’t need to make any alternations.
” She picked up her notebook and studied her pen.
I sat a little further back into my seat and glanced over at my father.
He was studying the paper he always placed each morning in the salon, knowing that Lady S didn’t approve of technology in there.
He didn’t look up, fully immersed in the crossword and paying no attention whatsoever to the conversation.
“Carla is pretty set on what she’s chosen.” My wife-to-be would certainly not humour my mother in any way, shape of form. Both were as stubborn as hell, and both were extremely happy to use me as their go-between.
“Why is Carla not here? I had assumed she’d be with you this weekend.” Her Ladyship sat up a little straighter, those finishing school lessons on deportment never having quite left her.
Jeanne Soames-Harrington, neé Buchanan, had been a Lady from birth, the second child and oldest daughter of my maternal grandfather. She married my father at nearly thirty, had my brothers when she was thirty-two and thirty-five, then I arrived, rather a surprise, when she was forty-two.
She was now seventy-four, her father ninety-eight and still one of my favourite people, living in his Scottish home that was from the stuff fairy-tales were made of.
Physically, Grandfa was in the finest of health, but dementia had relieved him of some of his faculties a few years ago.
I visited him as often as I could, which wasn’t as often as I liked, given work and the various engagements I had to attend.
“Carla’s having a girls’ weekend to prepare for her hen events.
” I tried to bite back the irritation I was feeling.
We were due to get married in six weeks.
In that time, she had three hen parties: this weekend in London with meals at the top restaurants, a spa day and ‘secret’ events that I’d seen the invoice for.
It was enough to buy a top of the range Maserati.
Another was a five-day trip to Monte Carlo; the third a sedate afternoon tea with her mother and older guests.
Lady Soames’ nose wrinkled briefly. “How very modern.” There was a brief shake of her head. “I have informed her that I find her bridesmaids’ dresses more than distasteful. I understand she’s a modern woman, but she has been brought up to have some dignity. I raised the issue with her mother also.”
I nodded and glanced back outside. My niece – the daughter of my eldest brother, Angus, was still running on the grass. I really hoped my mother didn’t spot her. Luckily for Catherine, Lady S’s attention was all on me.
“Her mother understood, of course. I think she’s most disconcerted by Carla’s behaviours.”
She wasn’t the only one.
“Apparently, Carla’s dress is rather undignified also.”
“I wouldn’t know, mother. Tradition is that the groom doesn’t see the dress until the wedding day.
” I sighed and folded my arms, trying to conjure up some form of excitement at seeing my bride walk down the aisle towards me, and failing miserably, just as I had for most of the last six months since we’d become engaged.
Don’t get me wrong, Carla was gorgeous, in a way that social media expected her to be. She was the daughter of the owner and CEO of a company that developed software, and her father was ambitious for her to step into the upper classes of society, hence the reason for part of the marriage.
Or possibly most of the marriage.
“Of course, and this will be a very traditional wedding. I was hoping she’d be with you this weekend. I had the Hollyhock room specially prepared.” There was another shake of the head. “Such an inconvenience.”
My mother was under no illusion I was a virgin, but she had every hope that Carla was.
She wasn’t. I had first-hand experience that her V-card had been well and truly stamped, and not by me.
Not as much experience as you might’ve expected given we’d been engaged six months and ‘dated’ for two, but we’d managed a few nights together in between dates on her hectic social schedule.
“I’m sure Carla didn’t mean it to be an inconvenience, mother.” I was pretty sure Carla hadn’t even thought what preparations might occur for in case she stayed. This wasn’t what you could call a love match. Complicated match was definitely a better description.
There was a shout from outside, my nephew, Catherine’s slightly older brother rugby tackled her from behind, slamming them both onto the ground. I watched, ready to run outside if Catherine was injured, but instead she wriggled free and punched him in the face.
The sound had caught Lady Soames’ attention, her usually pale skin flushing pink. Not with concern for her grandchildren, but instead for her lawn.
“I’ll go and ask them to play elsewhere.” My father put his paper down and stood up. “You continue with your conversation. That’s far more important.”
My father was one of the few people who could play her like a fiddle, completely ignoring the glare she gave him, folding his paper and strolling out of the room, knowing full well she wouldn’t argue with him in front of me.
The would be uncouth.
“Have you arranged for movers to pack and transport Carla’s belongings to your house while you’re on your honeymoon?” Lady Soames clasped both hands in her lap. “You shouldn’t return to different houses after your honeymoon.”
I didn’t let the wince show. I wasn’t sure I was ready to live with Carla.
She stayed over a couple of times a week, usually after we’d been out to dinner with some of her society friends or business acquaintances of mine.
I lived in West Brompton, in between Chelsea and Fulham, in a house that had been in our family since it was built.
Carla had an apartment in Chelsea that she shared with her friend, a friend who’d made appearances on a long running reality TV show, something I figured my mother was unaware of.
If she was, she’d been remarkably calm about it, and I had a feeling that if she knew what Carla’s friends were like, she’d be terminating this engagement with immediate effect.
“I have a team booked.” This wasn’t quite true.
I had the number of a team to book when I got round to it.
And when I’d discussed it with Carla. She’d hinted at moving in already, but we’d decided that we were better waiting until after we were married – which seemed to please both sets of parents, at least. Carla had mentioned that she wanted to make a big deal of it when she moved in, having a housewarming or something so she could show her new friends where she now lived, which seemed to be the theme of our relationship so far.
The door opened, my eldest brother, Angus, burst through it.
Angus should’ve been the one to carry on the family business of property management and looking after the investment portfolios that my father had inherited from his father, but he’d avoided that by becoming a surgeon.
A pretty good one, or at least good enough for Lady Soames to not be too displeased by his decision to flee the family shackles – sorry, business.
“Afternoon all.” He grinned as he walked in, sitting heavily on the sofa. “How’s the groom to be?”
I flipped him the bird.
Her ladyship looked displeased.
“It’s not that bad. Just learn when to nod without actually listening. That’s how our dad survived for so long.” He put his feet up on the coffee table.
“Angus, you’re not at your home now. No need to act as if you’re feral.”
“Sorry, Ma.” He put his feet down and grinned, the dimple that we’d all inherited on display. “Looking forward to your stag do?”
I grunted, trying to drum up some enthusiasm. Truth be told, I wasn’t looking forward to anything.