Chapter 3 #2
I press play on the beautifully shot video that has been carefully set to uplifting, romantic classical music.
Drone footage shows off the stunning, manicured grounds and the sweeping woodland ravine down to the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean, glimmering invitingly in the sunshine.
Snippets of grooms and brides smiling lovingly at one another in the chateau’s chapel are interspersed with close-ups of clinking champagne flutes and jubilant family members throwing petals in the air.
The video cuts to fairy lights, dancing outside under the stars, smooching in the grand ballroom, expensive chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, a smart-looking orchestra playing in the corner before finishing on a shot of spectacular fireworks bursting over the stunning town of Cap Ferrat below.
A caption saying ‘Chateau Beaumont… timeless romance, effortless elegance’ appears on the screen.
When it fades to an end, Ged and Liam are speechless. It’s practically word for word what they were after. A single tear trickles down Liam’s cheek. Ged is nodding at me, trying to keep his emotions in check. ‘We’ll never be able to afford it,’ he says, seeming worried.
‘I wouldn’t have shown it to you if that was the case,’ I assure them. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s a Christmas miracle,’ whispers Liam, tears falling freely. ‘I can’t believe it. Connie, babes.’ His voice breaks. ‘How can we ever thank you enough?’
‘It wasn’t me. Thank Matteo. He has pulled in a huge favour to get the place for Christmas week at a greatly reduced rate.
It’s actually less than you were paying for the last place, and we can all stay in the chateau too, as it has seven en-suite bedrooms. We have to be super careful though as it is uber posh, so we can’t cause any trouble, damage anything or make any mess or we’ll be booted out on the spot.
The only other slight downside is that it’ll be running with a skeleton staff as the whole family are spending Christmas off the Amalfi coast. But I’m sure we’ll manage. ’
‘Tell your husband we love him!’ Ged shrieks excitedly as he scoops Liam into an embrace. They exchange a long, loving look before they snog the faces off each other, less than a foot away from me, like they’re auditioning for an episode of Heated Rivalry.
‘I’ll let the group know what’s happening.
’ I slip off my stool and leave them to it.
My heart is full to bursting. And even though I have a niggling feeling about Birdie and the real cost of this goodwill, and some rather huge doubts as to the Dollz behaving themselves in the chateau, it’s worth it to make my best friends this happy.
Now that the venue is booked and confirmed, we crack on with the long list of other jobs.
Ged is keen for us to meet the Dollz at the Theatre Royal on Grey Street where we will have the opportunity to pick and choose what costumes we want for the Bridgerton part of the wedding.
I text Matteo to request his measurements and he video-calls me back while I am backstage rifling through the men’s suits.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of him.
He has an incredible effect on me. I go weak at the knees every time we speak.
And since our own wedding, despite a few niggling concerns, there’s this new gaping hole at my core when we are apart.
I find myself longing for him. Pining for him.
‘What sort of measurements?’ he asks good-naturedly.
This is another conversation that I should not be blushing through, but it feels ridiculously intimate somehow.
‘Erm, chest measurements ideally from… erm, under the nipple.’
‘Chest… 45.’
I flick my hands along the rail to the start of the size 45s where shirts, jackets and waistcoats are meticulously organised and wrapped in thin transparent plastic covers.
I pick out a dark green jacket and white shirt set and hold it up to the screen.
He nods his approval. Although from the way he is smirking, I think he probably couldn’t care less.
‘Waist?’
‘I’d guess maybe 32.’
I check the notes on my phone. ‘And would you say your waist is high or low?’
‘No idea. What do you think?’ He emits a quiet chuckle.
‘Well, I think you have a… really good, solid waist.’ Lord knows I’ve wrapped my legs around it enough times. I flick through the cummerbunds hanging up and hold one up. ‘We’ll say it’s somewhere in the middle.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
I can hear phones ringing and people yelling his name in the background. He really doesn’t have time for this. ‘Leg?’
‘Let’s go 34.’
Flick. Flick. Flick.
‘And can you tell me your inside leg measurement, please?’
‘Not sure.’
‘Well, let’s say it’s an inch less. Or should it be more? It’s something to do with your inseam.’ Whatever that is. ‘And do you dress to the right or left?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes, erm, it’s to do with the flaps on the trousers apparently.’
‘Flaps?’
‘It’s a Regency period costume. There will be frills and flaps. There’s nothing I can do about it.’ I point the camera at an example of the trousers. ‘And finally, for the perfect silhouette, arms.’
He rolls his eyes jokingly. ‘Two of them. Both the same length. I’ve really gotta go. Pick out whatever you want. I trust you 100 per cent.’
The days running up to the wedding fly by in a frenzy of anticipation, elation and gruelling dance rehearsals.
Even though the Bridgerton flash-mob song-and-dance routine to Whitney Houston’s version of ‘I Will Always Love You’ is only a small part of the evening’s celebrations, it has taken on an increasingly significant role, and Cherry, the choreographer, is insisting on regular rehearsals.
She has even insisted on Matteo being woken through the night to watch live over his phone and practise along with us. Poor man.
‘I have an announcement,’ says Tash at the end of what is our very last rehearsal before we all leave for France. She sounds very pleased with herself. ‘As official brand ambassador…’
Eh? Brand ambassador wasn’t even one of the jobs on the list!
‘Lovington sparkling wine have come on board as our official brand sponsor in exchange for lots of posting on our socials. They’ll be supplying all the fizz free of charge for the entire week!’ Tash squeals euphorically. ‘Free of charge. Isn’t that fucking amazing?’
‘Christ Almighty, that’s so friggin’ awesome. All the booze we can drink and it’s all free?’ checks Cherry.
‘It won’t cost a single penny. We can get as shit-faced as we like from morning till night, babes.’
I stand back as they all crowd round Tash to group hug.
Lovely.
Ged and Liam’s already over-the-top, overly complex logistical nightmare of a wedding is one thing.
Handling the Dollz when they’re on a booze-filled rampage in a posh venue with strict rules and a terrifying amount of expensive décor is quite another.