Chapter Forty-Four
Henry twisted his cuff links, before checking his watch, again.
Most of the village seemed to have assembled outside Dapplebury House as canapés and drinks were served on the front lawn overlooking the pleasure grounds.
It was mid-summer and the evening air was warm.
The bright blue sky provided the perfect backdrop for the stunning view.
He chatted with as many people as possible.
All but a few complimented him on his plans for the future of Dapplebury House.
Of course there were a few dissenters, those who weren’t keen on encouraging tourists into the village, but Henry had expected that.
As the time to move through to the marbled grand hall approached, Henry began to lose hope that Ava would come.
Searching the crowd for what felt like the hundredth time, he saw his mother talking to Mary and Gino — a sight he neither expected nor trusted.
Walking over to them, he couldn’t help but notice a change in their stance as they spotted him. He smiled in greeting.
‘I trust everything is OK?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Mary beamed but as he watched her, Henry noticed she slipped a piece of paper into Gino’s jacket pocket.
Gino’s automatic reaction to place his hand over it convinced Henry it had something to do with either himself or Ava. They were hiding something.
‘Are you sure? Is Ava OK? Have you heard from her?’
‘No.’ All three faces turned to him, but only Mary held his gaze.
The fact she touched her throat as she spoke and didn’t blink the whole time she held eye contact, added to his suspicions.
Lady Bramlington coughed and changed the subject. ‘We’ll have to go in soon. The caterers will be ready to serve.’
Mary seemed to ponder for a moment. ‘Actually, Gino and I have to go somewhere but we’ll be back before anybody notices we’ve gone.’
Henry pushed his hand through his hair. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, I don’t think you need to go anywhere, do you?’ Lady Bramlington looked at them with a puzzled expression.
‘Yes, I think we really do,’ Mary insisted.
Gino shrugged and apologised before Mary led him away.
Henry turned to his mother. ‘Does this have anything to do with you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I have more than enough going on here. Besides, you know Mary, she’s always got animals to check or emergencies to go to.’
Henry did know Mary. He just hadn’t been aware, until now, that his mother knew her too. He looked at her, incredulous.
‘You can take that look off your face. You didn’t expect me not to introduce myself to the people who run the charity when you’ve moved them onto the grounds, did you?’
‘No, I just . . .’ Never imagined you would.
‘Thought I was some old relic, like all those antiques inside? They can always use an extra pair of hands you know. All those animals won’t feed themselves.’
As his mother began moving forward and motioning for guests to enter the house, Henry stared in her wake.
She cut an elegant figure in her black gown — not a charity shop purchase, but one she insisted should have been donated years ago, and so must surely count.
Henry was pleased to see her looking so well and full of life.
She seemed different since revealing her secret; less guarded, more approachable.
There was time for them to build a new relationship and he was pleased about that.
Inside the grand hall, large round tables were spaced around the room and laid with white table cloths, crockery and cutlery, that contrasted with deep-berry, velvet chairs.
The magnificent venue had come into its own.
Marble columns, walls lined with gilt-framed historic masterpieces, and elaborately designed ceilings were made to be shown off.
It looked lavish in a way that belied the budget Henry had mustered to pull it all together.
The curtains had been lifted to reveal optimum views of the grounds and light poured in through the windows.
Albeit that Henry had to seek professional advice on whether this was advisable, to appease his mother.
Foliage, from the grounds, and artfully placed floral displays added to the grandeur.
The chandeliers were lit but would show their true beauty as the evening drew in.
Once everyone was seated according to the seating plan Pauline from The Brown Dog had helped with after it occurred to Henry she would know all the villagers, and where they would be best placed, Henry said a few words.
He thanked them for coming to support the charity — at which point Flo whooped and cheers went up from around the room where various volunteers were seated.
He assured the guests that Ava, and Mary, as the chief animal rescue officer, were on their way.
A fact he could only hope was true. Before taking his seat, he reminded everyone that the tombola tree in the entrance hall was stocked with golden leaves, each promising a prize donated by the generosity of local businesses.
Finally, he thanked his mother and Mrs Jenkins for their work in organising the ball, and the students of the local college who were contributing to the night in so many ways, including: doing the floral displays, providing the orchestra, and acting as servers; while the catering was all being done by final year students under the watchful gaze of Chef and his team from The Brown Dog.
It was a whole village effort and, for that, Henry was grateful.
As he looked at those who sat before him, the women dressed in elegant gowns Ava would surely recognise, and ruddy-faced men in tuxedos, Henry felt proud to be a part of the community.
The ball, held in Ava’s honour, and for the benefit of the charity, was also an inspired way to bring everyone together.
Barriers between them were lost as they sat in readiness to dine together on a smoked salmon medley, rack of Bramlington lamb with new potatoes and asparagus, and summer fruit pavlova, in the house that was a part of their history as well as his own.
As the first dishes were brought in, delicious smells filled the air and the sound of cutlery on crockery resounded around the room.
Henry looked at the seats intended for Ava, Mary and Gino.
Seeing them empty caused an ache in his chest. As the college orchestra began to play, Henry wondered if the guest of honour would make it for any of the meal, or even the dancing.
The room, filled with people for the first time in decades, felt empty without her.