‘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 d
own, 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.’
A long, dismissive sniff showed exactly what Mrs Wellbeloved thought of this slur on Stanclere Hall.
‘But now it’s like a palace, they say, and you’ve got Princess Sophie coming to stay!’ she continued, her eyes gleaming. ‘Ooh, if we had Prince Hugo and Princess Chloe visiting the Hall, I think I’d die happy that night. Do you think . . . ?’
She looked hopefully across the table at Brianna Jade, who opened her mouth to say that she had no idea, that Lady Margaret had been the motor to bring Princess Sophie to Stanclere Hall, but burped instead.
‘Oh dear!’ Mrs Wellbeloved exclaimed, as Abel stifled a laugh. ‘She’s in no state to get back, is she? You can see the young lady isn’t used to drinking much, can’t you?’
‘I’m not,’ Brianna Jade agreed seriously. ‘That’s Mom. Mom can hold her liquor, but I can’t. I feel all wobbly.’
Mrs Wellbeloved tutted. ‘She needs to lie down and then have some nice strong coffee,’ she said to her grandson. ‘I’d say she should do it here, but they’ll be worrying about her back at the Hall, I shouldn’t wonder. And it’s not really proper, is it, the Earl’s fiancée sleeping it off under your roof, Abel.’
‘Isn’t proper having her get drunk on cider here either, Gran, come to that,’ Abel observed, grinning. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get her back safe and sound. Come on, miss.’
He put one huge hand under Brianna Jade’s elbow and guided her gently to her feet; she stumbled, her head still dizzy from the strong cider, and was very grateful for Abel’s close presence as he walked her from the kitchen, manoeuvred her through the little hall and outside. The fresh, chilly air helped, and she took in deep breaths, but then that made her feel dizzier, which made her stumble against Abel again and giggle, and she felt him shake his head above her.
‘She’ll never walk it, not if we’re in a hurry,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Gran, take her arm while I go and get the wheelbarrow.’
‘Abel Wellbeloved!’ his grandmother positively screeched. ‘You can’t take the Earl’s fiancée back to the Hall in a wheelbarrow like a drunk sleeping off a night at the pub!’
‘Thought you might say that,’ he said, bending down and sweeping Brianna Jade into his arms as easily as if she were a child. ‘Nothing for it then. I can’t take her on the motorbike, can I? For a start she can’t hold on properly, and then I’d have to loop all around the roads when it’s ten minutes back to the Hall on foot. I’ll carry her back and say she turned her ankle walking in her little slipper shoes if anyone asks.’
‘Oh dear,’ Mrs Wellbeloved wailed. ‘Well, it’s better than a wheelbarrow, and that’s all that can be said for it. It was a real treat to meet you, miss, and congratulations on your engagement . . .’
Brianna Jade’s eyes were closed; after the momentary surprise of being swept off her feet, she had almost instantly relaxed into Abel’s arms. She was very tired, she realized. It was blissful to shut her eyes and let someone else look after her. And she much preferred this to a wheelbarrow. There was something so reassuring about Abel, such a sense that he could cope in a crisis, that she didn’t make the slightest protest about him carrying her back or how heavy she must be. The only thing she did mumble, her eyelashes fluttering up as his strong frame jounced her along, was: ‘Abel, you called me “miss”, and we said . . .’
‘Couldn’t rightly call you by your name in front of my gran,’ he said simply. ‘She’d’ve raised the roof.’
That was more than reasonable. Brianna Jade nodded, closed her eyes and actually dropped off to sleep for a little while. Her nose was smooshed into the cotton of his undershirt, which smelt of soap powder, pig and himself, maybe not quite in that order, and was a little scratchy: he needs to use fabric conditioner, she thought as she dozed off. But I guess men never think to buy it. Abel maintained a steady pace, his rubber-soled work boots quiet even on the stone of the bridge, and it was as reassuring as being driven home in the back seat of a car after a party when you were small, falling asleep knowing your mom would get you home safe – though actually Abel’s arms were more comfortable than the bouncing suspension of Tamra’s ancient Hyundai, and his regular breathing considerably more peaceful than the rickety turnover of its engine.
I must remember to tell him that, he’ll think it’s funny, she thought drowsily, suspended in slumber, hearing him murmur over her head that the young Countess-to-be had slipped out walking and might have turned her ankle, so he was carrying her back just to be on the safe side, the background buzz of the Bluetooth earpiece an indication that Abel was addressing one of the protection officers.
The backgrounds of all the Stanclere employees who lived on the grounds had of course been cleared well before Princess Sophie’s arrival, so the officer already knew Abel’s identity. He could be heard muttering the information into his neck mike to his colleagues as Abel cleared the shrubbery and took a looping path around the edge of the lawns, pretty much hidden from the Hall by the massive oak trees; he was making a circuitous route so that he could deposit Brianna Jade at a rarely used side door and, hopefully, conceal her tipsy state from its inhabitants. And dusk had fallen now; they were quite unobserved as he reached the door, shifted her weight to free one hand, and checked that the door was unlocked.
‘Here we are,’ he said, tilting her down to the ground and holding her by her waist to steady her. ‘Back home safe. You’d best take a nap, if there’s time, and then get Mrs Hurley to make you a good strong pot of coffee.’
‘Thanks, Abel.’ Brianna Jade flashed him a gorgeous smile, and though he was used to these by now, the wattage had never been at such close range; instantly, he dropped his hands and took a step back as if she had burnt him. ‘I can’t believe you got me drunk!’ she went on. ‘That’s so bad of you!’
She reached out to slap his arm playfully, missed and wobbled dangerously: Abel had to catch her again to steady her. She giggled tipsily, rocking back on her heels; the giggle turned into a yawn, her perfect teeth sparkling white, the ribbed roof of her pink mouth showing as she tilted back her head, arching her spine, the points of her breasts pressing against the blue sweater, almost touching his dungarees.
‘I feel all woozy,’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘Ooh, Abel, you’re so naughty to get me drunk!’
Abel writhed; still holding her with one hand, he reached out to push the side door open.
‘You should get some coffee,’ he said urgently. ‘And have a cold shower.’
‘And you carried me all the way back,’ she said, still slurring her words. ‘Oh hey, was I real heavy?’ Her eyes opened wide with the classic exaggerated panic of someone under the influence. ‘All the way from your cottage! Your arms must be so sore!’
‘Don’t you worry about that,’ Abel said quickly. ‘I’m used to carrying pigs around. Oh, I didn’t mean—’
Brianna Jade giggled so loudly at this that he actually stepped forward and put a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.
‘Ssh! Everyone will hear!’ he hissed. ‘Look, go inside and get yourself into a cold shower, fast as you can.’
Nodding, eyes owlishly wide, Brianna Jade turned and went inside, steadying herself with a hand on the corridor wall. Abel closed the door behind her, but didn’t walk away: instead he stood, staring at the closed door with its glass panes at
eye level, watching her go down the corridor. Only when she had vanished from sight did he turn and retrace his steps back to his cottage, quite unaware that Milly, whose room was on the floor above, had been having a cigarette out of the window, curled up in the embrasure seat, and had heard the entire exchange.
Chapter Fourteen
There was no way Brianna Jade was ready to greet Princess Sophie and her small entourage of friends when she arrived. But mercifully for Brianna Jade, Tamra had already decided that lining up everyone to meet the princess would look over-needy and self-conscious. Instead, she and Lady Margaret were sitting by the fire in the Great Hall, drinking cocktails and listening to the pianist play a witty medley of the latest R&B hits arranged into easy-listening lounge music versions when Sophie, her friends Lady Araminta Farquhar-Featherstonehaugh – known as Minty – and Dominic de Rohan, Edmund’s best man, swept in, followed by Sophie’s two protection officers. The new arrivals promptly stopped dead and oohed and aahed at the amazing transformation Tamra had effected at Stanclere. The candles flickered in their silver branches, their golden light reflected in the huge mirror over the fireplace, and in others carefully positioned around the walls, even managing to pick out interesting details in the enormous and rather boring tapestry of a hunt that hung opposite the fireplace. Behind Tamra and Lady Margaret, as they rose to their feet, the fire itself crackled in welcome, and the pianist, on strict instructions, only rose for a second in protocol before reseating himself and continuing to play the lounge arrangement of Rihanna’s ‘Umbrella’.
‘You should totally come and redecorate Buck House!’ Sophie said to Tamra, kissing her on either cheek. ‘My God, it looks simply fabulous! What does old Ed think of it?’
Bad Brides Page 24