Bad Brides (31 page)

Princess Sophie due to arrive! The mere idea gave Brianna Jade heart palpitations. She had seen the princess before, at a party in London, and once in Loulou’s, where Tamra had taken her
before Brianna Jade went to the Cotswolds. Sophie looked intimidatingly thin, confident and haughty, though Lady Margaret had assured Brianna Jade that since Sophie’s older brother, Prince
Hugo, had married Princess Chloe and settled down to happy married life, Sophie had become considerably more friendly and approachable, a much needed change from her wild-child past. Brianna Jade
hadn’t quite understood how this alteration had been effected – something to do with Chloe’s calming influence, though it didn’t seem quite plausible that a new
sister-in-law who had dated Sophie’s brother for donkey’s years should have had such an effect.

But Lady Margaret, who was always not only truthful but as blunt as a sledgehammer to the head, wouldn’t sugarcoat anything for Brianna Jade; if she said that Sophie’s manners and
temperament had improved considerably since the days that she taunted her brother’s then girlfriend for being a commoner, Brianna Jade could, as they said in the States, take that to the
bank. It helped a little, but not a lot.

The thought of Princess Sophie, third in line to the British throne, arriving in the middle of an epic battle raging between Brianna Jade’s fiancé and her mother, was enough to make
the poor Countess-to-be, stuck in the middle with nobody listening to her, want to run away and hide out with another titled female. Brianna Jade was going to visit the Empress of Stanclere for the
second time that day, scratch her back just where she liked it best, and pretend that she’d never have to go back to the Hall, dress up in sapphire Balenciaga and act as if she truly had
anything to do with hosting this house party . . .

‘Brianna!’ Abel, pushing an empty wheelbarrow which had until recently been full of slops, came round the corner of the pigshed and stopped dead at the sight of her.
‘What’re you doing here, then? You came by this morning already!’

‘You really need to get some WD-40 on that wheel,’ Brianna Jade said in a small voice.

Abel took in her expression, dropped the handles of the barrow and strode over to her, two big paces of his long legs enough to bring him to her side.

‘You can’t be here all dressed up smart like that, Brianna,’ he said, shaking his head in emphasis. ‘You’ll get all mucky.’

Brianna Jade, who was on the verge of tears – something about seeing Abel’s familiar, looming figure had made her want to cry – looked down at her outfit of pale blue
silk-cashmere sweater, skinny jeans and pale gold suede Tremp loafers and huffed a laugh, instantly feeling a bit better. For her, this was everyday casual wear, stuff she pulled on after working
out to hang around the Hall, but Abel was quite right about her looking smart, especially when she knew what the clothes had cost. The loafers alone, handmade for her and Tamra at the Tremp factory
in Italy, were deceptively simple, their suede butter-soft, the label an in-the-know fashion secret: everyone knew about Tod’s, but Tremp was for true fashion insiders.

‘Your pretty little shoes!’ Abel said, almost in wonder. ‘They’re like slippers! You can’t walk through the muck to see the Empress in those. Here, come round to
the cottage. Me and Gran’ll give you some cider, that’ll pick you up.’

He led her down a path she had noticed before but never taken. It ran down the other side of the piggeries, alongside the orchards where the pigs were let loose to forage for windfalls: the
blossoms were long fallen, the heady scent of ripe apples and pears was faded, but the trees were still beautiful, the grass thick, and the sight of them calmed Brianna Jade further. By the time
they reached the cottage, she was breathing regularly, no longer worried that she might burst into tears, and was able to exclaim in delight at how pretty it was. Wisteria climbed around its
red-painted door and around the windows with their matching red shutters. It was like something from a fairy tale.

‘Oh wow, you have a thatched roof!’ she said, gazing up at it. ‘That’s so pretty! I feel like I’m in Hansel and Gretel or something.’

‘No nasty witches here,’ Abel said cheerfully, ‘and the thatch is a right bugger, I can tell you. Looks lovely, but it costs Mr Edmund a fortune to keep up. We’ve got a
thatcher in the village who’s at it nonstop going round our cottages tightening all the roofs up – they need it once a year, and it’s not a small job. Got to be cleaned all by
hand, as well, you can’t use rakes. The tourists love a thatched roof but that’s ’cause they don’t have to look after it. Backbreaking, it is.’

He grinned at her as he pushed the door open and stood back, gesturing for her to enter the cottage as he knocked the mud off his boots on the scraper outside. Brianna Jade, built on queenly
lines, had to duck as she went in, and she couldn’t help turning, once inside the tiny entrance hall, to watch Abel bending his entire head down to make his way into his home.

‘I grew up here,’ he said, knowing exactly what she was looking at, his grin deepening. ‘Used to it by now, I am. But I had a big growth spurt when I was fourteen, and for a
whole year I had a bruise right over my forehead like a line, where I kept walking into the lintels—’

Their bodies almost filled the hall, as if they were playing Sardines. Brianna Jade felt suddenly awkward, crammed in here with him; she smelt the light odour of pig on his clothes, a faint
scent of his own fresh sweat, and found herself blushing and looking around for some space; her chest was nearly pressed into the big brass fasteners of his overalls.

‘Kitchen’s there,’ Abel said efficiently, nodding sideways, and she crab-scuttled into the room with relief. It wasn’t big either, but she could sink into a wooden chair,
one of two pulled up at the table, which was painted the same colour as the shutters and front door.

‘I like red,’ he said just as efficiently, reading her mind. ‘Gran says I should have more yellow in here, to brighten up the place on winter mornings, but the red always puts
a smile on my face. And I do a whitewash of the walls every spring, so it’s bright enough for me.’

Brianna Jade looked around the kitchen, whose walls were certainly gleaming white. But then, everything gleamed, from the modern white laminate fitted cabinets to the chrome top of the compact
stove and the glass of the cupboard against the back wall where the good china was displayed. In the centre of the table was even a bunch of yellow carnations, prettily arranged in a cut-glass
vase.

‘It’s really nice, Abel,’ she said respectfully.

‘Oh, you’re seeing it at its best,’ he told her. ‘It’s Gran’s day to pop round and tidy up for me, that’s why it’s so spick and span. Where is
she? Gran!’ he yelled, his bellow so loud that the china rattled in the cupboards. ‘Where’ve you got to, then? We have company!’

By this time, Brianna Jade was fully expecting a silver-haired little lady in a gingham dress and apron, wearing round wire glasses, to emerge; it was quite a disappointment when the only point
in common between her imaginings and Abel’s grandmother turned out to be that she was small. There was a pattering of light, fast steps on the stairs, and a diminutive figure bustled into the
kitchen, dressed not unlike Brianna Jade herself in a fitted sweater and skinny jeans, her hair cut short and artfully blonde-streaked to balance the white, her small features neatly made-up, and a
duster in one hand which she put down on seeing Brianna Jade standing up politely at her entrance.

‘My, you’re a beauty, aren’t you?’ she said approvingly, looking the guest up and down without a hint of embarrassment or deference. ‘I heard you were like
something off the telly, but I thought everyone was egging the pudding. And I don’t read those gossip magazines, I’ve got better things to do with my time. Abel, you never said the
young lady was like a beauty queen!’

Abel ducked his head forward again, this time shaking his hair over his face as much as he could to conceal his blushes.

‘Gran,
please . . .
’ he muttered, shuffling his feet.

‘Mr Edmund’s done well, hasn’t he,’ his grandmother continued, quite unabashed. ‘Money
and
good looks! We’ll have some downright gorgeous heirs up at
the Hall soon, won’t we?’

Now it was Brianna Jade who was blushing, and Abel lumbered over to the fridge, pulled out a big quart bottle and busied himself filling glasses, his back turned to the room.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Wellbeloved,’ Brianna Jade said politely, her hand held out. She knew that Abel’s father was dead, and his mother living in Wales with her
new husband; she and Abel had covered many subjects in their near daily chats by the piggeries. And she remembered him saying that his grandmother lived in a modern flat in Stanclere village,
preferring not to be miles away from most amenities down a dirt track in the middle of the countryside.

‘You too, miss,’ Mrs Wellbeloved said, shaking Brianna Jade’s hand with a wiry grip. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. Abel said you’re right fond of the pigs,
and all I can say is, rather you than me. I couldn’t wait to get away from them, nasty hairy smelly things. Not that I mind a nice side of bacon, though!’

She winked at Brianna Jade. ‘Sit back down, miss, do,’ she added, pulling up the other chair herself. ‘Abel can stand – won’t do him any harm, lazy lump that he
is!’

Brianna Jade started to protest at how hard Abel worked, but instantly saw that his grandmother was joking by the loving look she shot her grandson, and obeyed docilely instead, duly sitting
back down.

‘But what’re you doing here, then?’ Mrs Wellbeloved asked, her bright eyes intent. ‘There’s the biggest to-do I ever remember happening up at the Hall. It’s a
party for you, isn’t it? And here you are drinking cider instead with young Abel and me – shouldn’t you be up there with the gentry?’

‘It’s a right old to-do, Gran, that’s a fact,’ Abel said with unexpected smoothness, setting down brimming pint glasses of cloudy golden cider in front of the two women.
‘And Bri –
miss
– just needed a moment away from it all, what with her mum and Mrs Hurley running around like madwomen on a rampage. She’s got Princess Sophie
coming in later, believe it or not! You can imagine what it’s like up there, can’t you?’

Brianna Jade met Abel’s eyes with almost wondering thanks at his understanding of her situation; he knew, of course, how nervous the party was making her, as they’d talked about it
increasingly as the event came closer, but this summary of what she was going through made her feel as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

He smiled back at her with great sweetness and said, ‘A trouble shared’s a trouble halved,’ and nodded at the glass, picking up his own. ‘Here, let’s toast to
happiness all round, a new Countess up at the Hall, and one of the best batches of cider I’ve ever made. Mostly Sweet Coppin and Court Royal apples, it is. Little bit of Stoke Red in too, to
give it a bit of bite.’

‘Nice and sweet, is it then, Abel?’ his grandmother said gleefully, picking up her glass. ‘You know I like it sweet.’

It was sweet as sugar and utterly delicious. Never had Brianna Jade drunk cider like this back home in the States, where they sold it in gallon jars at farmers’ markets and the State
Fairs. It was so good she drank practically the whole glass down in one go, relishing the rich taste, and when she set it down again on the table and looked up, licking her lips and beaming, she
was taken aback by the appalled expressions on both Abel and Mrs Wellbeloved’s faces.

‘My life, miss,’ Mrs Wellbeloved said, goggling at her. ‘You can certainly hold your drink. I never saw the like from a young lady like you!’

‘My
what
?’ Brianna Jade realized that her smile was ridiculously wide and her head was spinning. Almost as if – no,
exactly
as if – she stared at the
glass, suddenly realizing what had just happened.

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘There’s
alcohol
in cider over here?’

Both Abel and his grandmother collapsed with laughter. Abel had to put both his massive hands on the table to brace himself, his shoulders were shaking so hard, his messy thatch of hair falling
forward over his face: his deep bass rumble and Mrs Wellbeloved’s high giggle filled the small room, the table rocking as Abel’s shoulders heaved. Brianna Jade looked in amazement at
the foamy residue left in the glass: gingerly, she put out a finger, wiped up some foam and licked at it, which sent both Wellbeloveds into fresh spasms. Mrs Wellbeloved had, eventually, to reach
for a clean tea towel to wipe her eyes, dabbing cautiously to avoid smudging her navy blue mascara.

‘Oh, miss,
thank
you,’ she said in heartfelt tones, still chuckling. ‘I haven’t laughed so hard since Abel fell over in the mucky pigpen some years back and the
pigs tried to eat the overalls right off him! He kept trying to get up and slipping over ’em and falling back down – oh dear, that’ll set me off again if I don’t watch it.
Better than the telly, it was.’

Abel raised his head, his cheeks pink, his eyes bright; he shook back his hair, a very characteristic gesture of his, probably because his hands were often so dirty that he didn’t want to
use them to push it off his face. His hazel eyes, Brianna Jade thought tipsily, were twinkling, which was a funny word, but fitted perfectly.

Not in the least perturbed by his grandmother’s teasing, he said to Brianna Jade: ‘You mean cider isn’t boozy in America?’

‘No, it isn’t. It really isn’t,’ Brianna Jade said, slurring her words a little. ‘You can get it in
Starbucks
!’

The cider, however, made the last word come out as ‘Shtarbucksh’, and set both the Wellbeloveds off again. Abel’s eyes were tearing up too by the time he eventually calmed
down, his enormous chest still heaving with laughter.

‘Ten per cent, that cider is, my l—
miss
,’ he said, knuckling his eyes hard. ‘And you just drinking it down like it was nothing!’

‘Oh dear, and she’ll need to get back soon,’ his grandmother added, looking at the clock. ‘What with royalty arriving! I must say, miss, you and your mum’ve done
wonders for the Hall and Mr Edmund. I don’t mind saying we were all getting worried he’d have to sell it off to a hotel chain or something. We heard Mr Edmund had someone come from the
National Trust to look it over, and they wouldn’t touch it with a bargepole. They’ve got too much on their plate as it is, and they said we didn’t have enough history.’