Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Clemmie woke to the soft chorus of birdsong.
A contented smile lingered as she lay there, savouring the moment.
Oliver had slipped out of bed about ten minutes ago.
The events of the past few days had felt like stepping into a fairytale, and she wasn’t ready for the spell to break just yet.
From her horse-riding escapade to dinner, the discovery of the visitors’ book, and of course last night, every moment had been memorable.
After a quick shower, she slipped into a light floral dress, tied her hair back into a loose ponytail, and headed downstairs.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the cottage, and as she stepped into the kitchen she was greeted by a picturesque scene.
Oliver was already there, arranging breakfast on a rustic wooden table beneath the grand old oak tree just outside the door.
The garden was a vision of English charm: perfectly manicured lawns, vibrant flowerbeds bursting with colour and a small fountain in the centre that gurgled cheerfully.
Butterflies flitted about, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming roses and lavender.
‘Good morning!’ Oliver smiled as he poured her a cup of coffee. He was wearing a casual linen shirt and trousers, looking every bit the relaxed country gentleman. ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked with a mischievous grin before pressing a kiss to her cheek.
‘I think you know the answer to that,’ Clemmie replied, settling into one of the cushioned chairs. ‘This is stunning. Did you do all this?’ she asked, gesturing at the spread of croissants, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs and smoked salmon.
‘Absolutely. I rose at dawn, milked the cows, churned the butter and baked the croissants from scratch.’
‘You’re a man of many talents,’ Clemmie said, laughing as she helped herself to some fruit.
They ate in a leisurely way, chatting about anything and everything, apart from Oliver’s impending departure to the US. There was no point. She couldn’t change things, and she didn’t want to dwell on it. Oliver leaned back in his chair and gave her a thoughtful look.
‘Have you thought about what you would like to wear to the garden party?’ he asked, swirling his coffee.
Clemmie groaned. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. I’ve never attended a royal event before and my wardrobe at home is more pinnies and casual stuff, with the odd dress.’ She looked down at what she was wearing.
‘After breakfast, I’ll take you to the best places I know. I’m sure you’ll find something.’
‘Valmont or Rosewood Street?’ she joked.
‘Actually, I was thinking more Whitmore Square. This isn’t just any garden party, Clemmie. It’s Eldenbridge Palace. You need to look the part.’
Clemmie raised her eyebrows. ‘Whitmore Square? That’s absurd. I’ll end up spending a month’s rent on a single dress.’
‘Consider it an investment,’ Oliver said, before sipping his coffee. ‘Plus, you’re going to have your first grand royal experience. Why not do it properly?’
After breakfast, a sleek black Bentley pulled up outside the cottage, its polished exterior gleaming in the morning sunlight. The driver stepped out, a tall man in an immaculate suit, and opened the door with a bow. ‘Sir, madam, your car is ready.’
‘Is this not a little excessive?’ she asked, sliding into the luxurious interior, the leather seats cool against her legs. A chilled bottle of champagne sat in a silver ice bucket between them, and two crystal flutes glinted invitingly.
‘Excessive is half the fun,’ Oliver replied, pouring them each a glass. ‘I want your trip to be as memorable as possible.’
They clinked glasses, and the car glided smoothly onto the main road. As they left the tranquillity of the royal residence, the scenery shifted from sprawling parkland to the bustling outskirts of London.
The drive was a tapestry of iconic landmarks.
They passed through Ashford Vale, where the River Elen glittered in the light, and soon the spires of Larkminster Cathedral came into view.
Edris Tower stood tall, its clockface an unwavering – and literal – reminder of the passage of time.
Clemmie leaned closer to the window, catching a glimpse of Valmont Avenue, lined with Union Jacks fluttering in the breeze.
Ahead, a royal convoy of black Range Rovers sped towards Eldenbridge Palace, their blue lights flashing discreetly.
‘Do you think that’s for the Queen?’ Clemmie asked, her voice tinged with awe.
‘Possibly,’ Oliver replied, his gaze following the convoy.
As they entered Whitmore Square, heads began to turn.
The Bentley’s unmistakable elegance and the way it moved with unhurried grace through the narrow streets made it a spectacle.
Clemmie caught sight of people pausing mid-stride, their eyes lingering on the car.
It was a world apart from anything she’d ever known.
The shops came into view, each one more opulent than the last. Glittering window displays showcased gowns dripping with sequins, tailored suits that oozed sophistication, and jewellery that sparkled like a thousand stars. Names like Chanel, Dior and Prada were emblazoned on the fronts.
‘I feel a little out of place,’ she whispered.
Oliver squeezed her hand. ‘Well, you shouldn’t.’
Each time her gaze found Oliver, she felt a little more drawn in.
His quiet confidence, the way he seemed to see through everything, made her wonder if she could ever be part of his world.
But then, the image of her grandmother’s smiling face and the comforting hum of the café filled her mind.
That was her world, her heart’s home. She couldn’t imagine leaving it behind, not even for a fleeting moment.
The car pulled up outside a boutique that seemed to have stepped straight out of a film. ‘I’ll return for you both at three p.m.,’ the driver said with a respectful nod as he held the door for Clemmie.
Clemmie and Oliver strolled down Rosewood Street, a world of exclusivity and elegance unfolding around them. Oliver flashed her a reassuring smile as they approached the entrance of one of the most luxurious boutiques on the street.
Inside, the air was perfumed with subtle notes of vanilla and jasmine, and dresses, each more exquisite than the last, lined the walls like masterpieces in a gallery.
Soft golden light bathed the room, and the plush carpet absorbed every step, creating a cocoon of quiet luxury.
A poised personal shopper, immaculately dressed in a tailored suit, approached them with a smile.
‘Good morning! How can I help you today?’ she asked, her tone perfectly pitched between enthusiasm and professionalism.
Clemmie hesitated, her nerves bubbling to the surface. Sensing her discomfort, Oliver stepped forward. ‘We’re looking for a very special dress for the royal garden party tomorrow,’ he explained, his deep voice resonating with authority.
The personal shopper’s eyes lit up with genuine excitement.
‘The royal garden party? You’ve come to the right place!
’ She turned and gestured towards a colleague in the corner, who appeared almost immediately with a tray bearing two flutes of chilled champagne and a selection of delicate truffles.
Clemmie’s eyes widened as she accepted the glass, feeling like she’d stepped into a dream.
She’d never been treated like this before, never imagined she could feel so … important.
‘Please, make yourselves comfortable,’ the personal shopper said, directing Oliver to a sumptuous red velvet sofa. He sank into it with casual elegance, his eyes never leaving Clemmie as she was guided towards a rack of dresses.
The dresses were breathtaking. Fabrics shimmered in the light: silks, chiffons and satins in every colour imaginable.
The personal shopper began selecting pieces.
‘This one would bring out your eyes,’ she said, holding up a gown in deep emerald green.
‘This one, the embroidery is all hand-stitched.’
Clemmie nodded, still overwhelmed but beginning to appreciate the thrill of the experience.
Behind the privacy of the dressing-room curtain, Clemmie tried on dress after dress. Each time she emerged, Oliver’s reaction was the same, his eyes lighting up with approval and delight. ‘Stunning,’ he said when she stepped out in a sleek navy dress. ‘That colour suits you,’ he commented.
‘It’s beautiful but just doesn’t feel right,’ shared Clemmie.
‘What about this one?’ the personal shopper asked, appearing with a dress that immediately captured Clemmie’s attention.
It was a timeless design, a cornflower-blue creation that fell just below the knee.
The soft A-line silhouette was complemented by delicate embroidery along the hem and bodice, with subtle beading that caught the light.
The fabric moved like liquid silk, shimmering gently as it flowed.
The capped sleeves and a modest V-neckline added an air of refinement, making it perfect for the regal yet relaxed setting of a garden party.
‘This is part of our latest collection. It’s perfectly elegant,’ the personal shopper said, her tone brimming with confidence.
‘I actually love it!’
Back into the changing room Clemmie went and as she slipped into the dress her heart was pounding. When she turned to face the mirror, she barely recognised herself. The dress hugged her in all the right places, its elegance making her feel a quiet confidence she hadn’t known she possessed.
‘Are you ready?’ called Oliver. ‘We’re dying to see.’
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the dressing room.
Oliver’s reaction was immediate and breathtakingly sincere. He stood up, his usual composure momentarily replaced by awe. ‘Clemmie…’ he said, his voice almost a whisper. ‘You look … perfect.’
Clemmie felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but she couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked, smoothing the fabric nervously.