Doubting Abbey (35 page)

‘Dearie, me, what a lack of education,’ I teased. ‘At least you’ve had your first BestBurger.’ I took his napkin and wiped some ice cream from around his lips. He caught my hand and pulled me close. Mmm… Nice kiss—hadn’t realized I’d be having popping candy with my pud.

Having drained our Coke cups, we headed back to Applebridge Hall. An ABBA song came on the radio and, amazingly, Edward knew the words – apparently, his mum had been a huge fan. At the tops of our voices, we sang along, Edward glancing sideways at me from time to time with a big fat grin on his face.

As we turned into the estate, Edward turned off the radio. A few lights were on in the house and… I squinted through the moonlight. Was that Kathleen, pacing up and down by the fountain?

‘Pull up here,’ I muttered to Edward as we passed the orchards. ‘I’ll hide among the apple trees and make my way back in later on.

‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘You’ll get cold.’

I nodded vigorously. Kathleen was heading towards us. I kissed him on the cheek and opened the door.

‘Meet me by the pond after the engagement party tomorrow night,’ he hissed. ‘And Gemma?’

I nodded.

‘Thanks – for tonight. For just letting me be me.’

But hadn’t he been out of his comfort zone tonight? Sometimes Edward came out with the strangest things!

I gave the thumbs-up and dived into the orchards, just as Katheen reached the car. In the dark, I crouched behind some low branches and listened as Edward wound down his window. Okay, so it was bad manners to eavesdrop, but…urgh, for some reason, I had a bad feeling about Nick.

‘Kathleen – is everything all right?’ said Edward. ‘It’s not Father, is it…?’

‘Och, no – sorry to worry you, My Lord. It’s that Nick.’

Crap. Suddenly my palms felt all sweaty.

‘That lad’s been away all day, but nipped back this evening to pack up his bags, just after you left. Looking remarkably well recovered from his “illness” – in fact, kind of smug. He handed in his notice.’

‘Good riddance. Never trusted the blighter,’ said Edward, sounding just like his dad. ‘His contract was only temporary anyway, for the show.’

‘Aye, but he muttered something cryptic before he left – about us making sure we enjoyed the party because, sooner or later, our good fortune would disappear. And he laughed when he said it would be a shame if something happened to ruin Lieutenant Mayhew’s celebrations. Before leaving, he even crept into the kitchen to steal some of my Highland fudge. Lady Constance was there with me, making hot chocolate, and she agreed – he had a reet menacing tone. He insisted we tell Miss Croxley that… What was it? “Secrets always come out” and…’ she shrugged ‘… that it was “a shame
Basic Instinct
wasn’t chosen” – whatever that means.’

Holy fu…dge!

‘Och, he’s a odd one,’ said Kathleen. ‘Perhaps we should ring the agency you got him from – see if he’s caused any trouble before.’

Edward agreed that was a good idea, and then persuaded the cook to jump in so that he could give her a lift the short way back up to the house.

As the car pulled away, I sank into the soil, that stressed-up, taking GCSEs feeling coming back again. Perhaps Nick had worked out that I’d messed with the fridge food. After seeing his true character…bile rose in my throat.

What if he’d made a deal today with some editor and had already done an interview, revealing Plan Sex-up? The tabloids might be full of it tomorrow. That would ruin the engagement party – and our popularity with the Facebook fans, who wouldn’t appreciate discovering that Miss Croxley’s fling with Nick was nothing but a cold-hearted, calculated scam to win their votes.

LORD EDWARD’S E-DIARY

Tuesday 11th September

11.55p.m.
Apologies, another late evening posting—as the final week progresses, the hours become busier. It is strange to think that on this coming Saturday the winner of
Million Dollar Mansion
will be announced.

What an unforgettable experience this has been. I’ve discovered new friends— and foes. Today, Charlie Chingo asked me what I’d learnt about life from taking part in the competition. My reply? That one is never too old to be surprised by people, or to surprise oneself…

Now, to yesterday’s poser question. Dear blog-readers, I confess I tricked you, as all three suggested answers hold some truth. Congratulations,
Blogger 569
– the first option is true and it, erm,
was
me. A cool night-time swim with someone… jolly special, might not seem revolutionary to everyone, but let’s just say if my mother knew, she’d clap her hands that her “uncompromising” son had finally, and um literally, for want of a better phrase, “chilled out”.

Historybuff
, you were also right to choose the second suggestion and well done, your research was spot on – the very first Earl of Croxley did lose his life fighting for the woman of his dreams. Whilst his relationship with his wife, Margaret, was considered quite happy, his personal journals revealed a secret affection for Elizabeth the First, who awarded him our estate in 1588. In the late 1590s he lost his life when she sent him to Ireland to fight against yet another uprising.

Lovehotnoble
, I’m erm, flattered, you can relate to the third answer and would abandon your family to be with me. A Miss Gracie Croxley did this in the eighteenth century. She ran off one night with a young engineer who believed he could make his fortune in the newly colonized India. Eventually he became a powerful railway magnate. Gracie never returned to Applebridge Hall, but regularly sent long letters to her mother, along with parcels of spices and silk.

Right, tomorrow will be an awfully busy day, and I may not post until the evening again. However, I promise to at least report back here on the engagement party, whilst it is ongoing, so as to give you loyal blog-readers some exclusive bits of news.

Now, on a culinary note, Iet me finish this evening’s post by confessing I’ve acquired a passionate liking for cheeseburgers, potato wedges and toffee ice cream swirls. Apologies, Father, if this news gets back to you – I expect no approval. But I’m beginning to believe that, once in a while, it’s important to let your hair down.

Chapter 26

Poo
. (Okay, not the coolest word, but better than the unladylike alternative.)Today
it
was going to hit the fan. How did I know? The expression on Gaynor and Roxy’s faces.

Right from the off, when I turned up in the kitchens early, to introduce myself to the three very nervous Food Tech GCSE students, it was obvious something was up. Roxy offered me the last of her favourite toffee bonbons and Gaynor clapped me on the back – normally she saved all physical contact for Edward. Both beamed brightly and now and again shook their heads. It was obvious, due to their girlish winks, that Nick had been in contact with them and fully explained our attempts to sex-up Applebridge.

I broke into a sweat, just thinking about who else he could have told that the Facebook excitement wasn’t just all down to rumour. My stomach hurt, as if I’d eaten the chilli strawberries instead.

Somehow, I managed to get through the morning’s cookery lesson – especially as Jean had been into town early and brought back the papers— they revealed nothing, yet, about my movie exploits. Then, after sandwiches in the Parlour with the Earl and Lady C, I concentrated on helping Henrietta set up in the Drake Diner.

What light relief! She did an awesome imitation of the Queen’s voice and told me stories about knowing Edward when he was younger. Mr Thompson and Jean set up the flowers and chairs outside. Annabel worked closely with Henrietta, laying out cutlery to the exact millimetre.

Perhaps Mum and me would have gelled like that. I could have confided in her about this charade and reckon she’d have approved, even given me some tips and thought it a great laugh.

Fifty folded napkins later, that afternoon, the sun shone brightly as if the Indian summer was doing a quick encore.

‘You’ve done a mega job, Kathleen,’ I said. We were in the kitchen. She’d spent the afternoon with the students, making even more canapés for tonight. At her request, I passed her a ‘wee dram of something strong’, to give her a second wind.

‘Where are the high school girls now?’ I asked.

She took a sip. ‘Och, they worked their socks off, so I sent them off to explore, as long as they come back, in their waitressing outfits, by six o’clock sharp.’

‘Champagne cocktails to start, this evening?’

Kathleen nodded and looked at her watch. ‘Guests will arrive from seven. That gives you two hours to get dressed. The caterers are already setting up. Henrietta and the Viscountess are changing in the guest rooms. The Viscount will arrive before long. Lieutenant Mayhew had a business meeting but promised his fiancée that he’d be here before their friends. The jazz band is already in the dining room, tuning up.’

‘Wicked,’ I said half-heartedly, and suddenly gave a big sigh.

‘Everything okay, lassie?’

‘Not really,’ I muttered, dreading tomorrow’s episode of
Million Dollar Mansion
, when Nick would no doubt reveal all. Today he was probably milking his fifteen minutes of fame, meeting all sorts of hacks and doing everything possible to earn dosh out of his time at Applebridge Hall.

‘Och, I can’t keep up with you young people,’ she said, and smoothed down her curly grey-red hair. ‘Take His Lordship, Edward – at the weekend he had the mood of a Loch Ness monster who’d finally been caught on film. Yet now he’s strutting around like some caber-tossing champion. I just heard him whistling.’ She sucked in her cheeks. ‘You’d think it was him getting engaged and not the Lieutenant.’

Ooh, nice mental image— I could just imagine Edward in a kilt.

‘Ignore me – just tired… I can hardly think straight.’ I gave Kathleen a hug and, before she could tick me off for being a silly lassie, headed for my room. Yet, door closed, I threw myself onto the bed and fought the urge to slip into my Gemma clothes and do a runner. The thought of embarrassing the Croxleys had become torturous. I’d grown to love the sprawling ivy across Applebridge Hall’s crumbling walls. The maze and orchards felt like old friends and I felt mega relaxed sitting quietly by the pond. The cosy Parlour reminded me of Dad’s house and those portraits in the Long Gallery somehow brought out the best in me, I reckoned, like nothing had before.

An hour later, however, I was still in the building, washed, dressed as a lady. Making sure a few strands hung down in seductive ringlets, I’d pinned up my hair and put on an awesome dress lovely Lady C had bought me. It was bottle-green taffeta with a modest diamanté-edged slit up the side and cinched-in waist. Although still more
Desperate Dan
than
Desperate Housewives
, I’d never looked so slim. The sleeves were short and puffed up just enough to give my shoulders a mega good outline. Lady C also lent me a sparkly choker. Forget
Million Dollar Mansion
– I felt like a trillion pounds. Hey, I finally owned an outfit that Abbey would want to borrow off me!

‘Goodness me, you look quite charming, Abbey,’ said Lady C as I walked into the Drake Diner. She and the Earl stood by the long buffet table, admiring the food the caterers had put out. They tapped their feet to the background jazz.

‘Decent effort you’ve made, young lady,’ said the Earl gruffly.

‘James! You can do better than that,’ said Lady C and pushed him gently on the shoulder.

‘Yes, well – you’re a jolly pretty girl.’ He cleared his throat and leant out to pat my arm. ‘I don’t know what we’d have done without you, to be honest, Abigail. This last week or so, you’ve brightened up the show and… Applebridge Hall. It’s been good for Edward to have some young Croxley blood around. Your father… He must have done something right, to have produced a girl like you. I imagine Dickie is very proud.’

Wow – he almost sounded fond of his brother. Lady C gazed at the floor, while I kissed the Earl on his bristly cheek. He muttered something about checking that Mr Thompson knew where to let the guests park. As the Earl left the room, the Hamilton-Brown women swept in.

‘What a super dress,’ I said to Henrietta, who wore a crimson one-sleeve floor-length gown and a ruby-red pendant.

‘That’s sweet of you, Abbey, thank you. Do allow me to return the compliment. Where did you buy that outfit? It’s exquisite.’

‘Um… how kind. My aunt bought it as a present.’ My stomach gurgled as I ogled the food. Wow. ‘That nosh is mega amazin’,’ I muttered.

Henrietta giggled.

‘Do, um, excuse my turn of phrase,’ I said and cleared my throat. ‘Gemma, my flatmate, has more influence on me than I imagined. But seriously – I love your choice of dishes for the buffet.’

‘Really? I am pleased. Robert and I thought we’d be traditional and stick to English fare.’

They’d certainly done that and my mouth watered as I studied the bacon and egg tartlets. There were bangers and mash vol-au-vents and mini Yorkshire puds filled with beef and roast spuds. As for the puddings…tiny trifles, Union Jack fruit pastries and mini scones oozing with cream and jam.

‘Shh!’ Henrietta winked at me and picked up two of the mini scones. She handed one to me and we both turned away from Lady C and the Viscountess while we chomped them down. Who would have thought the Viscount’s daughter knew how to be unladylike?

‘It’s very good of you, Henrietta, to have your engagement party here,’ I said in between mouthfuls. ‘Robert’s support is bound to pull in more voters for us.’

‘We both have an enormous amount of respect for Edward and his father – as you clearly do.’

‘Of course.’

‘You’ve sacrificed your time to help out,’ she said and eyed me closely. ‘And I know things between your father and Lord Croxley haven’t always…’

‘… run smoothly,’ I said.

She nodded. ‘I’m so glad you are here, Abbey. I have the feeling you and I are going to be such good friends.’ She beamed at me and I managed to smile back.