Chapter 10
For lack of anything else to do while Fenella was busy apparently arranging everyone else’s lives for them, I’d taken a large sip of champagne.
But as Penelope’s words hit my ears, my throat momentarily forgot how to function and the wine made a valid attempt to choke me.
Edward, his face flushed, leant around his mother and returned the favour of a pat on the back, thankfully with less fervour than I’d put into his, otherwise I’d have been in the middle of next week.
‘Oh, darling? Are you all right?’ Penelope relieved me of my glass.
I nodded as I gulped some more air. I was not remotely all right but I’d deal with that in a moment. Right now, I was more concerned with not choking to death.
‘Here.’ Edward, who still had two points of bright red on his aristocratic cheekbones, stepped across and gently took my arm.
‘Sit down for a moment,’ he said, guiding me to the nearest chair which, either appropriately or inappropriately, was a love seat.
For a second, he looked as though he had been about to join me but in the end, chose not to and instead remained standing nearby.
‘Did you not get the invitation?’ Penelope asked, then looked up at Edward, who had remained resolutely staring ahead. ‘Honestly, the post these days. I’ll get one dropped round tomorrow.’
‘Thank you,’ Fenella replied in the same manner as if Penelope had just offered her a jar of sheep’s eyeballs – and not the sweetie kind.
‘Aren’t you going to offer your congratulations, Fenella?’ Penelope was beaming now.
The lemon face was back. ‘Oh! Yes… of course.’
We waited. It seemed that Fenella had to rev up for this.
‘Congratulations.’ If this was her congratulatory tone, I dreaded to think what her commiseratory one was. ‘And you’re new to the area?’ she asked.
I nodded, still mute from the shock of Penelope’s announcement. Edward, I noticed, was looking anywhere but at me.
Fenella looked between us. ‘You’ve kept this very quiet. I’ve not seen you mentioned in any society stories or photographs.’
‘I prefer to keep my true private life private,’ Edward stated.
Penelope squeezed us both. ‘He’s ever so protective of her. It’s really quite darling.’
‘And what does your father do?’
‘What?’ The question came out as more of a squeak. Was this woman for real? Did someone need to tell her that we were in the twenty-first century? I was being interrogated by a real-life Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Next, she’d be questioning my connections.
‘He’s retired, isn’t he?’ Penelope filled in for me.
‘A retired what?’
‘Army officer.’ Barnaby smoothly took up the conversational baton.
‘Not the navy? Oh dear.’
I had a feeling whichever branch had been mentioned, she’d have preferred a different one.
‘No. The army, and I’m very proud of him.’ Her dismissal of my dad momentarily overrode the panic of Penelope’s shock announcement.
‘Quite right too.’ Edward backed me up.
‘Have you met the parents?’ Fenella asked, as though I was a puppy being assessed.
‘We haven’t had the honour yet, but we’re very much looking forward to it.’ Penelope beamed.
Oh crap. This was spiralling way out of control!
‘I see. So how did you two meet?’ There was something about the way Fenella said it. She wasn’t buying it. Also, what the hell was happening!
‘I… erm… need to… erm… go. Early start tomorrow.’
‘I’ll take you.’ Edward was by my side before I could object.
‘Aren’t they lovely? He can barely be apart from her.’
Over my head, Edward threw his mother a savage look.
‘And what is it that you do?’
‘I’m the—’
‘Wait!’ Fenella held up a hand. ‘I’m sure Tarquin said something about you getting someone in…
Your name is familiar but I couldn’t place it until just now.
He’d been talking to Isaac. You’re not… you’re not,’ her voice dropped to practically a whisper, ‘the gardener.’ I imagined that back in the day, her ancestors had used the same tone for ‘leper’.
I picked up the glass that Penelope had put on the side table nearby for me and swigged the rest of my drink – something else for Fenella to disapprove of, no doubt – and as the cat was out of the bag now, I decided I may as well tell the truth. ‘Under-gardener, actually.’
Fenella looked about fit to pass out.
‘Isn’t it marvellous?’ Penelope said without missing a beat. ‘Emmeline’s not only helping breathe new life into the gardens but she’s brought my darling son back to life too.’
‘I was hardly petrified, Mother.’ Edward’s tone was low with a hint of growl.
Penelope laughed a tinkly laugh. ‘You know what I mean, darling,’ she said, popping her arm around my shoulders and giving them a squeeze. ‘Emmeline’s been a true breath of fresh air.’
‘I see. Well…’ Fenella looked like she was trying to digest a slug.
After a hard swallow, she put her champagne glass down with a mild clatter on a nearby surface.
Dawkins, despite having been dismissed for the evening, melted back into sight and whisked it away before it could leave a ring mark on the expensive piece.
‘I will show you out, Mrs Huntingdon-Bowes.’
She didn’t acknowledge the butler, just nodded to Penelope and strode off towards the door, waiting for Dawkins to open it for her.
‘See you Saturday!’ Penelope called after her, glee in her tone.
The door closed behind them.
‘Mother!’ Edward spun to face her.
‘Uh oh.’ Barnaby’s face was wreathed in a smile as he poured another glass of champagne, his eyes barely leaving the scene unfolding in front of him as he did so. ‘You’re in trouble now, Mum. Also, is that really true about Tarquin?’
‘Irrefutable,’ Edward said, his voice still taut. ‘Fenella has no place being quite so smug about her marvellous offspring and her precious estate being safe due to the ability of her son to fire off a few viable sperm.’
‘Edward!’ Penelope pretended to chide him but he was clearly in no mood for it. She turned instead to me. ‘As for the existing grandchildren, all brats. Mind you, they spend a lot of time in Fenella’s company so that’s hardly surprising.’
‘Harsh, Mother.’
‘But true, no?’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ Barnaby agreed.
I raised my hand. ‘Umm… may I ask a question?’
‘Of course, darling!’ Penelope said.
‘What exactly just happened?’
At this point, I was hoping that the truth was I’d dropped the flowers off with Dawkins as intended and returned to Rose Cottage.
From there, I’d settled down in front of the television and watched one too many repeats of Downton Abbey and was now safely tucked up in bed experiencing a surreal dream.
Penelope looked chastened. Edward remained silent.
‘I suppose I might have got the teensiest bit carried away.’
‘Do you think so?’ Edward turned to face her, peering down from the distinct height difference.
‘It’s not that bad!’ she said.
He rubbed his hands up his face and back over his hair. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, appearing to struggle to voice the thoughts in his head. Or perhaps struggling to restrain ones he might regret speaking.
‘You’ve just invited Fenella bloody Huntingdon-Bowes to an entirely fictitious party for an entirely fictitious engagement!’
‘Yes, well!’ Penelope folded her arms across her chest. ‘She was getting on my nerves. Always banging on about her perfect family and perfect life and perfect bloody Verity with her wonderful career.’
‘A career she couldn’t actually explain so I wouldn’t put too much stock in that,’ Barnaby offered.
‘I know, but… she just winds me up!’
‘She winds everybody up, Mother! That’s her career.’
‘I know! I know! But she started going on about Susan.’
Next to me, Edward stiffened.
‘Looking at you with such pious bloody pity. And then, conveniently, Verity is home and she wants you to go to supper. You know she’s been desperate to get you two together since you were in the cradle! You can’t stand Verity.’
‘Verity is all right. I’m… neutral about Verity.’
‘Fine. Then I can’t stand Verity. She’s always thought she’s the bees knees and if she’s home for a time, it’s for one reason: to hook you.’
‘I’m not a fish, Mother.’
‘You’re the biggest catch around here and she knows it!’
Her youngest son gave a polite cough.
Penelope laid her hand on his cheek. ‘Yes, darling. You’re wonderful too but you know what I mean.’
‘And now, apparently, Emmeline’s caught you,’ Barnaby noted.
‘I’m more than happy to throw him back.’
Edward met my eyes and I defiantly held his gaze.
Barnaby let out a guffaw of laughter and slung an arm around my shoulders. ‘I do like you.’ He looked across at his brother. ‘Could you not really be engaged?’
Edward made a dismissive noise. ‘You’re both as bad as one another.’
Penelope sank down into an overstuffed armchair, the velvet worn in places but the turned gilt legs catching the lamplight.
‘Emmeline, I’m so sorry.’ She looked up at Edward and gave a shrug. ‘I panicked and… Emmeline really is such wonderful company.’
‘We’re not getting married.’ He turned to me. ‘This is going to get fixed.’
‘I don’t mean to sound rude but I very much hope so. No offence.’
‘Believe me, none taken. In the meantime, would you like a lift back to the cottage as it would appear you’ve been kept here longer than anticipated. It’s a clear night and chilly now.’
‘I don’t want to put you out.’
‘You’re his fiancée! Nothing is too much trouble.’ Barnaby grinned as he took another sip of Cristal.
Edward turned slowly and met his brother’s mischievous grin. ‘You are, in your own words, “hilaire”. Shall we go?’ he asked me.
‘Thanks.’ I waved a quick goodbye as Edward opened the door for me, pulling it closed behind him.
‘Honestly, it’s like living with Bertie sodding Wooster sometimes.’
‘I heard that!’ Barnaby called through the door.
‘Good!’ Edward countered.
I pretended not to notice the glint of amusement in his eyes.