Chapter 24 #2
The question hung in the air as Clemmie’s mind raced.
Instinct told her to tread carefully. She nodded.
‘I recently saw a photo of him for the first time, and his name is written in the visitors’ book at the royal cottage where we’re staying.
Why do you ask?’ she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.
The Queen studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. ‘Well,’ she said, her tone returning to its earlier warmth, ‘my great-grandmother was very fond of the Earl, and he told her tales of visiting Puffin Island.’
‘What a coincidence.’
‘Yes, it is, and I have it on good authority that he loved a good torte.’ She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and stood gracefully. ‘I mustn’t keep you from the festivities any longer and I should return to the garden before anyone notices my absence.’
Clemmie and Oliver rose as well, both murmuring their thanks and placing their cups and saucers on a nearby table.
The Queen jiggled a bell and Mr Kensington immediately appeared to escort them back to the garden party.
The Queen offered a parting smile. ‘I do hope you’ve enjoyed this little interlude.
Perhaps we’ll have another chance to talk soon. ’
As the door closed behind them, Clemmie turned to Oliver, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘What was that all about? The Earl of Aberford has been to Puffin Island?’
Oliver shrugged, but his brow was furrowed in thought. ‘I’m not sure. But it felt … significant, didn’t it?’
Clemmie nodded. The name ‘Earl of Aberford’ lingered in her thoughts. She had never heard him mentioned by her family, though they were obsessed with royalty. Surely his name would have cropped up before now if it was significant, especially if he had a connection to Puffin Island?
As they stepped back into the sunlight and the lively buzz of the garden party, she couldn’t dispel the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much larger.
The Queen’s words had been kind, but they had left a lingering sense of mystery.
Clemmie knew she had some important questions for her granny when she returned home.
‘Well,’ Oliver said with a grin as they stepped back into the garden. ‘That’s one way to spend an afternoon.’
‘No one back home will believe me when I tell them I’ve had tea with the Queen. It was so surreal, just like this place. Shall we grab another drink? Then I would love to take a closer look at the rose garden,’ said Clemmie.
The sweet scent of roses hung softly in the air, blending with the distant murmur of voices and the music from the band. Clemmie and Oliver strolled down the gravel path, their prosecco glasses catching the light, refracting tiny rainbows onto the ground as they walked.
The rose garden was serene, tucked away from the lively bustle of the main garden party.
Rows of perfectly pruned rose bushes stood in disciplined symmetry, their petals ranging from soft blush pinks to deep crimson reds.
At the heart of it all, a weathered wooden bench beckoned.
As they sat, Clemmie leaned back, exhaling deeply.
‘Can we just talk about Lady Rosalind for a moment? The way she kept going on about that recipe… It’s almost as if she’s convinced that I’ve copied it from somewhere.
Which I have, my great-great-grandmother’s recipe book. ’ She glanced sideways at Oliver.
Oliver swirled his prosecco thoughtfully. ‘It’s peculiar, isn’t it? She was sure she’d tasted your creation before. Do you think…’ He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. ‘Do you think that’s why the Queen invited us for a chat?’
Clemmie’s expression grew serious. ‘I’m beginning to feel uneasy about all of this.
If Lady Rosalind genuinely believes she’s familiar with the recipe, it might stir up trouble.
And Fiona…’ She blew out a breath. ‘Fiona will jump at any opportunity to make waves. If Lady Rosalind’s suspicions fuel her, I could be in for a very rough ride. What if I’m branded a cheat?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ But just as the words left Oliver’s mouth, Fiona appeared at the edge of the rose garden. Her expression was one of triumphant glee.
Clemmie’s stomach lurched as Fiona strode purposefully towards them.
‘Oh, God, what does she want now?’ Oliver muttered.
‘Well, well,’ Fiona began, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. ‘I hate to interrupt your little idyll, but I thought you should know there’s going to be an inquiry into just how original your recipe really is.’
Clemmie’s breath caught. ‘An inquiry? Are you serious?’
Fiona’s smile widened. ‘Oh, absolutely. Lady Rosalind’s remarks caught the attention of some rather influential ears. It’s only right to ensure that everything is above board, don’t you think?’
Oliver stood, his tone firm. ‘Fiona, this is ridiculous. Clemmie won fair and square. You need to accept that and move on. Bow out with dignity instead of clinging to petty vendettas.’
Fiona’s eyes flashed. ‘Petty vendettas? Oh, Oliver, you’ve always been such a white knight, haven’t you? But this isn’t about pettiness, it’s about fairness. And besides,’ she added with a sly grin, ‘it’s a day for secrets to be revealed.’
Clemmie’s heart sank. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked, looking between them both.
Oliver’s face darkened. ‘Fiona, don’t do this.’
But Fiona was clearly revelling in the moment.
‘Oh, come on, Oliver. You can’t honestly expect me to keep quiet about that.
’ She turned to Clemmie, her expression a mix of mock sympathy and delight.
‘Darling Clemmie, did you ever wonder about that scathing review of your little café? The one you mentioned in your so-called winning speech, that left you doubting yourself for years?’
Clemmie froze, her blood running cold. ‘What are you talking about?’
Fiona’s grin turned feral. ‘It was Oliver. He wrote it. Every cutting word.’
The world seemed to stand still. Clemmie stared at Oliver, her voice trembling. ‘Is that true?’
‘Clemmie, I can explain,’ Oliver began, stepping towards her.
But she held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
The betrayal hit her like a tidal wave, and she felt her chest tighten with hurt and fury.
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her steps brisk and determined.
She didn’t look back, but the sound of Oliver’s and Fiona’s raised voices followed her like an echo.