Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties (11 page)

      ‘The thing is,’ I whisper, pulling her towards me like a conspirator, ‘I’m not really one of
them,
you know, a proper lady. I have no idea how to behave … and I’ve never had a ladies maid in my entire life. In fact, you’re the first one I’ve ever met.’

I think her eyeballs will pop out in disbelief.

      ‘Can I trust you, will you help me?’ I ask pleadingly.

She hesitates for a moment and then becomes animated, pulling dresses and scarves from the rails.

      ‘This dress,’ she says, picking the one Brice had chosen at Marcus’ shop, ‘and with these shoes, and this scarf. If I were you I’d have your hair down too. It looks nicer that way, if you don’t mind me so saying Miss Harriet?’

     
‘You can say whatever you like but call me
Harriet
. All this Miss Harriet business is making me feel more spinsterish by the minute.’

She studies me intently.

      ‘Let’s ditch the silicone, your breasts are perfect.’

Perhaps she can tell Marcus that.

      ‘I can’t, the dress only works with them.’

     
‘Bugger,’ she blushes. ‘Sorry Mi … Harriet.’

     
‘Don’t apologise.
I’m capable of a lot worse.’

Twenty minutes later she stands me in front of the mirror and I stare transfixed by my own reflection. My skin looks dewy and youthful and my eyes are sparkling. Emily has p
erformed miracles with eye make-up. My hair hangs in soft waves around my face. A look I’ve never been able to achieve.

     
‘What do you think?’ Emily asks proudly.

The sound of an arriving car makes my stomach lurch.

      ‘I think I look stunning. Thanks Emily.’

I glance out of the window.

      ‘I thought it was just family this evening,’ I say, trying to hide the panic in my voice.

     
‘Oh it is Mi … Harriet. They have asked Major Bates …’

     
‘Major Bates?’ I say laughing. ‘Is that a grown-up version of Master Bates? He must have done a lot of wanking.’

     
‘He’s Madam Margarita’s brother-in-law,’ Emily says, diverting her eyes.

     
‘Between you and me no one seems that keen on him, if you don’t mind me saying Miss Harriet,’ she whispers, ‘Oh, and of course, Mr Brice will be coming,’ she adds with a smile.

My stomach somersaults. Brice? She is kidding me right?

      ‘Brice who?’ I say hoarsely.

     
‘Why Mr Hamilton’s cousin of course, Mr Brice Edmunds.’

Oh
my God. I’m well and truly fucked.

     
I have to admit I seriously thought about running out on both Hamilton and Julian after hearing that Brice Edmunds is not only here but is also Hamilton’s cousin. Running away from this God-awful crappy weekend, whoops, I mean
ghastly
weekend, must not forget to keep up the posh lingo. I then decide that would be the coward’s way out and I’m no coward. So, Brice Edmunds is here, and I have to admit even hearing his name makes my body quiver. Hamilton’s cousin, I mean, who has such bad luck? No wonder my lucky dip ticket didn’t have one sodding winning number. Well, there is nothing for it. I just have to face him and if he dobs me in then he is dobbing in Hamilton as well. I’m not taking all the blame.

I put on a brave face but I’m sweating like a nun in a field of cucumbers. A light spray of Caroline Herrera perfume and I am ready. Emily looks at me proudly. I take a deep breath and nod for her to open the door. The chiffon feels light and cool against my skin and I drift out onto the landing to the strains of lilting Gaelic music. There is laughter and the clinking of glasses. I reach the top of the stairs and admire the grandeur of the staircase. Portraits adorn the stairwell and seem to follow me with their staring eyes. I see Cedric hanging coats on a rack. He looks up and I shrug
nervously. He gives me an encouraging wink and I cling onto the bannister. Well here goes. I shall probably leave claw marks all down it with my long talons. How do women cope with these
Wicked Witch of the East
nails? Do they have someone else tie up the laces on their trainers or what? I am halfway to the bottom when I see Brice walking towards Cedric. He follows Cedric’s gaze and our eyes meet and lock. His face breaks into a smile and he acknowledges me with a nod. God, he looks gorgeous. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt and the new tie he bought in Marcus’s shop. He looks every inch the upper-crust gentleman in his dinner suit. At least he isn’t wearing a kilt, although I have to admit a gander at his rope and tackle wouldn’t be too distressing. His hair is freshly washed and his eyes twinkle at me. I really would love to drown in those eyes. He frowns slightly when I don’t smile back. Oh God, this is awful. He is standing underneath a huge grandfather clock and for a minute it feels a bit like that Titanic under the clock moment, and strangely enough in that exact second it is like something clicks between us, and then he is holding out his arm for me to take. Why do I have this awful feeling that this is going to be the most humiliating night of my life?

     
‘Hello Harriet. The dress is perfect.’

     
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask accusingly, forgetting that he has more bloody right to be here than I have.

He takes a step backward
s.

     
‘I could ask you the same question.’

     
‘I mean it’s lovely seeing you again. It’s just everywhere I go you seem to be there,’ I add quickly.

Jesus, now I’m almost accusing him of stalking me. But wouldn’t that be a dream come true?

      ‘Well, actually I’m here to meet my cousin’s new girlfriend. And you?’

I pull an apologetic face.

      ‘I am Hamilton’s new girlfriend.’

I’m also thinking of doing a runner but I don’t think I’d get very far in these shoes.

      ‘Darling, there you are,’ calls Hamilton and my heart sinks.

You know that feeling, the one where you just want the floor to open up and swallow you. I seriously want this whole main hall to disintegrate and devour me. I cannot believe that for the first time in my adult life I finally meet a man who makes my stomach somersault and my legs quiver, and better still act
ually seems to like me, and who in the next few seconds will be lost to me forever. I pull my shoulders back and turn a bright smile onto Hamilton.

     
‘Sorry darling, you know how long it takes to get ready. I’m so eager to meet your grandmother.’

But not as eager as I am to leg it from this place.
Brice is staring intently at me and I tense under his scrutiny, or perhaps squirm might be a better word. It then dawns on me if he is Hamilton’s cousin then he is of course the other grandson. Oh no, hells bells, how much deeper in the shit can I get?

     
‘Oh sorry Brice, I should have introduced you two. This is my girlfriend Harriet and this is my cousin Dr Brice Edmunds.’

Doctor?
He really is out of my league isn’t he? I should have a GP who looks like him. Maybe I should mention my mastitis; he may want to have a look. God, I’m out of control. Get a grip Harriet.

     
‘Brice lives in the old stalkers’ lodge when he’s home. Not that he’s home often,’ laughs Hamilton.

He lives here? Jesus, how much worse can this get? If he’s not home often why does he have to be home now? Brice doesn’t laugh and his eyes continue to bore into mine. I struggle not to lower them and meet his gaze head on.

      ‘So, you’re the girlfriend we’ve heard so much about. Hamilton tells us you are an expert at clay pigeon shooting?’

What the fuck.

      ‘Well I …’

His soft features harden and his eyes narrow.

      ‘I hope Harriet will be joining us at the shoot tomorrow. It will give us all a chance to get to know her better and she can show us her shooting skills,’ he says, his eyes never leaving mine.

The bastard.
What is he playing at? I’ll show him my shooting skills all right and I’ll make sure the first bullet has his name on it and the rest can have Jack, Jack and Jack on them. God I’m losing the plot, or my mind, one or the other, or possibly both.

     
‘Well, I don’t know Brice, Harriet has a lot of work to catch up on while she’s here. Her jewellery business, you remember I told you about it?’

I nod and reach out to a passing butler who is offering cocktails. I knock back a vodka twist and shudder.

      ‘And of course there is all her charity work,’ adds Hamilton.

Jesus Christ. I grab another cocktail quickly before the butler has a chance to move.

      ‘That wouldn’t be Oxfam would it?’ asks Brice with a sardonic smile and a cursory glance at my false breasts.

Oh no, one hasn’t sunk has it? That’s all I bloody need. I open my mouth to speak.

      ‘Don’t get Brice started on his hobby horse,’ Hamilton laughs.

     
‘Actually,’ I say in my newly trained voice, ‘I’m a huge supporter of Oxfam. I donate much of my earnings to them,’ I add pompously.

Well, that certainly isn’t an untruth is it? I’ve probably fed half of Ethiopia in the past two years.

      ‘That’s very charitable of you. We should discuss your philanthropy over dinner …’

     
‘I really don’t like …’

     
‘Shall we go into the drawing room for aperitifs,’ says Hamilton, anxiously grabbing my hand. I’m swept from the hallway and led towards the drawing room.

     
‘I met Brice when I was with Marcus. He came to buy a tie,’ I whisper.

He stops in his tracks.

      ‘What,’ he exclaims loudly and then lowers his voice. ‘You weren’t yourself were you?’

     
‘Well I wasn’t bleeding Pippa Middleton was I? Of course I was myself. He’s suspicious of me. We should tell him Hamilton.’

He grips my arm tightly and pulls me into a corner.

      ‘You don’t tell Brice anything. He’ll think I’m trying to steal his inheritance or something. It’s not like that, obviously,’ he says glancing quickly behind him. ‘He’s never here. He’s always in Asia or somewhere equally filthy.’

     
‘Asia?’ I say admiringly.

     
‘Just don’t forget what I’ve paid in advance and if you mess this up, that’s all coming back.’

I swear I will cut off Julian’s ear/tongue/penis myself when I next see him. He releases his grip and leads me
gently towards the drawing room again, where Brice is standing like a bloody centurion. He is probably going to announce the imposter. God I feel sick. Still it doesn’t stop me popping a mini salmon tart into my gob. Well, a girl has got to eat after all. Anyway the way things are escalating here I may not even make it to dinner.

     
‘Well, where is she?’ growls a voice.

I glance nervously at the wheelchair which seems to be zooming dangerously towards us. The woman sitting in it is imposing indeed. Her naturally grey hair has been expertly pulled back into a neat bun in a style that makes her look younger than her years. She is stunningly beautiful and for someone very sick her skin glows. Her eyes are sharp and bright and they appraise me thoroughly and finally land on my face. The manic Stephen King cat sits demurely in her lap. She stops the wheelchair by a chaise longue. A hush falls over the room and Hamilton rushes to her side.

      ‘Come here girl,’ she says, her voice softening.

     
‘You’d better go,’ says Brice. ‘I’d yank that right breast up first if I were you. Grandmother hates anything false as do I.

I look at him sharply and the distrust in his eyes sends a sharp pain through me. He thinks I’m a gold
-digger and a liar, and there is no way I can redeem myself. Of all the men to discover I am a fake why did it have to be him?

     
‘It’s not what you think?’ I say, realising I sound just like Hamilton when he first approached me.

     
‘Isn’t it? You’re seriously telling me you’re not deceiving anyone here?’

Oh hell, if
only I could explain.

     
‘Harriet,’ calls Hamilton.

I turn from Brice with a sigh and begin to make my way towards Hamilton and his grandmother. Okay, you just to need to remember you’re just back from launching your new jewellery collection called
Harriet’s
in New York. It has yet to take off here. I of course support the Tories and I read sociology at Cambridge. That’s a joke. I’m barely managing to read Social Sciences at Marlborough Mansions with all the stress. I’m an expert horsewoman with a great love of hunting. Yeah right. I’m just getting over the death of my goldfish, I couldn’t hunt a poor fox. I’m really not going to pull this off am I? I look behind and my eyes make contact with Brice Edmund’s. My heart quickens and for a few seconds I find myself wishing that life could be different. You know, the kind of different where the three Jacks don’t exist and the kind of different where I don’t work in a laundrette, and the kind of different where I am the Harriet who owns the jewellery business and not the Harriet who in a few minutes will lie to everyone about the woman I really am. Why now? Why now has this man come into my life? And of course the truth is because the three Jacks exist and because I now have to be a different Harriet to get Julian and I out of debt. If the three Jacks hadn’t come into Julian’s life then Brice Edmunds wouldn’t have come into mine. I stop in front of the wheelchair and a hush falls over the room and all that can be heard is the music playing softly in the background. Sebastian approaches us and lays a hand on my shoulder.

     
‘Harriet, what can we tempt you with?’ he says, gesturing to Cedric.

     
‘Harriet is a champagne cocktail girl, isn’t that right darling?’ says Hamilton sliding an arm around my waist.

I feel myself tense and hope he doesn’t notice. Right now I’m a
give me anything
with alcohol in it girl. Anything to numb this whole experience but I accept the champagne cocktail gratefully and fight back the urge to knock it back in one.

     
‘I’ll have a Bloody Mary,’ barks Grandmother, making me jump out of my skin.

No wonder the cat is so bloody demented.

      ‘So you’re Harriet, like cats do you?’

Generally, but your one is the exception to the rule.

      ‘Adore them,’ I lie, gingerly patting little Diamond who purrs happily. The two-faced little bugger.

She grabs my hand.

      ‘Let’s go into dinner. You can sit next to me. MELANIE,’ she shouts.

Lady Lancaster practically trips over her dress in her haste to reach Margarita Lancaster’s wheelchair.

      ‘Rearrange the seating. I want Harriet next to me and Hamilton the other side. Put Brice opposite and for heaven’s sake keep the Major away from me, the man drives me insane.’

She turns back to me.

      ‘Harriet, wheel me in please.’

I look back to see Brice Edmunds watching me intently.

      ‘It’s going very well so far,’ whispers Hamilton.

Bloody hell, what bleeding planet is he on?

      ‘About as well as executions can go,’ I whisper.

He gives me an odd look and follows us into the magnificent dining room. It’s terribly impressive with shimmering crystal and candlelight. I’ve never seen so
much crystal in my life. Beautiful chandeliers hang from the ceiling and stuffed stags’ heads with antlers adorn each of the four walls. The dining table shimmers under the candlelight and is set out like a banquet. A manservant pulls back a chair for me and I realise all the men are waiting for me to sit. I blush and take my seat. I must try and get a grip and be more positive. Just ignore Brice Edmunds. After all what can he accuse me of? Buying clothes from Oxfam and talking differently the last time he saw me and of course, having slightly larger breasts than at our previous meeting. It’s not against the law to have big breasts is it? I mean, it’s not a crime. Oh God, what if he mentions Julian though? No, he’s probably even forgotten I said my boyfriend’s name was Julian. I mean, people don’t really listen to what you say do they? I could well have been talking about Hamilton. I sigh with relief. I don’t know what I have been worrying about. He can’t even accuse me of not having my own business. Hamilton is quite right it is all going very well. I must stop worrying and calm down, otherwise I will blow the whole thing.