Wickham Hall: Part Four - White Christmas

by Cathy Bramley

  I gazed at my reflection: the dress shimmered under my bedroom light, my new clutch complemented the outfit perfectly and my eyes sparkled with determination. Perhaps Jenny was right, perhaps I could be the belle of the ball. It was time for Holly Swift to come out of the shadows . . .

  Chapter 9

  The snow was still falling but the flakes were smaller now and although the pavements were treacherous, the roads were passable with care. Jenny steered her motorbike past the gatehouse and up the long drive towards Wickham Hall with me tucked in behind her, holding on for dear life, my dress concealed beneath a long woollen coat.

  My stomach fluttered as the hall came into focus. There were lights at every window along the length of the ground floor. The crystal chandeliers over the main staircase sparkled, candles glowed through the windows of the Great Hall and the fairy lights on the Red Sitting Room Christmas tree twinkled magically.

  Jenny stopped the bike at the front steps between the two large bay trees glistening with yet more Christmas lights. I climbed down, handed her back her spare helmet, taking care not to ruin my hair do, and she revved away, sending a shower of gravel and snow into the air as she turned the bike towards the staff car park. I pushed open the large oak doors and went inside.

  Sheila was in the hallway, struggling to carry a cardboard box filled with Christmas gift bags, and I hurried forward to help her.

  ‘There you are!’ she said, sighing with relief as I took some of the weight. ‘I thought we were going to have to send out a search party; Jim said you left Santa’s workshop hours ago.’

  ‘Jenny gave me a lift home to change. What an experience!’ I laughed, brushing the melting snowflakes from my coat.

  ‘Red Sitting Room with these,’ Sheila instructed and we began to walk, lugging the box between us.

  ‘Do you think the snow will put many guests off?’ I asked as we manoeuvred our way into the Red Sitting Room.

  Sheila shook her head. ‘We’ve had a handful of cancellations but not many. Wild horses wouldn’t keep most people away from Lady Fortescue’s Christmas at Home.’ She chuckled. ‘And the family have all made it home safely for Christmas, which is the main thing.’

  Especially Ben, I thought, that was my main thing. ‘Oh good. Is Zara here?’

  ‘Yes, although the two of them had a frightful taxi journey from the airport. Zara has gone for a bath and Lady Fortescue is in her room getting dressed for the party.’

  The room had already been cleared for the Christmas at Home gathering: armchairs had been moved in front of the French doors for the evening to leave the centre of the room clear, a table had been set up for the refreshments and there was a second table near the door.

  For the next few minutes, Sheila and I busied ourselves arranging the Christmas gift bags on the empty table.

  ‘My first Christmas at Wickham Hall.’ I sighed contentedly, setting out the last gift bag. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.’

  Sheila threaded her arm around my shoulder. ‘You know, Holly, you’ve only been here six months, but you’ve fitted in so well, it’s hard to imagine what we did without you. Such a hard-working girl. We’re lucky to have you.’

  I blushed at the unexpected compliment. ‘Thank you, I feel the same way; I couldn’t imagine anywhere I’d rather work. In fact, sometimes I forget it’s work, it just feels like this is my life now and I wouldn’t want it any other way.’

  ‘Good,’ Sheila smiled, ‘because I think we make a pretty good team.’

  She was right, I mused, glancing round me; this party was a perfect example of teamwork. The room was decorated with greenery from Nikki’s gardens to Andy’s theme. Sheila had been in charge of the guest list and Jenny and her staff would be providing the food. And each guest would receive a Christmas gift bag as they left at the end of the evening. They had been my idea and as well as a small framed print of the Christmas card designed by Ben, they contained a Wickham Hall calendar and a rosemary and bergamot scented candle from the Wickham Hall range.

  By six o’clock, when guests began arriving, Christmas carols were playing in the background and every detail of our Christmas at Home event was perfect, from Jenny’s filo pastry mince pies and the punchbowl of mulled wine to the gentle glow of the logs ablaze in the sitting-room fireplace. The tall Christmas tree that Marjorie and I had decorated filled one corner of the room and Lady and Lord Fortescue were ready to receive their guests in the centre.

  I took my place slightly behind Lord and Lady Fortescue in the receiving line with the list of guests’ names on a clipboard, ready to help them out if they couldn’t remember who anyone was.

  ‘That’s a lovely outfit you’re wearing, Lady Fortescue,’ I said, during a lull twenty minutes later. Most of the guests had been ticked off my list and only one or two stragglers remained unaccounted for.

  She inclined her head graciously and ran her fingertip along the tiny bugle beads that edged the neckline of her black chiffon tunic. She wore it with matching wide-legged trousers and heels and looked every inch the aristocrat. ‘Thank you. It’s one of my Parisian purchases. I thought it might double up for Zara’s New Year’s Eve party at the chateau.’

  ‘Another damn party.’ Lord Fortescue tutted disconsolately. ‘Left to me, I’d be in bed before midnight with a brandy and a good book.’

  ‘But you won’t be, Hugo,’ Lady Fortescue said tightly. ‘You’ll be enjoying the party. Apparently, at midnight in France they all drink champagne, raise a toast to Saint Sylvestre and kiss under the mistletoe.’

  ‘French kissing?’ He winked at me. ‘I might stay up for that.’

  I swallowed a chuckle but my laughter quickly vanished as I noticed Her Ladyship eyeing up the length of my dress.

  ‘You look very nice too, Holly. A little bit short but I suppose at your age you can get away with it.’

  ‘Um. Thank you.’ I think.

  ‘You look enchanting, Holly,’ said Lord Fortescue. ‘I think we’ll manage the receiving line by ourselves now, so why don’t you go and work your magic on our guests?’

  I didn’t need asking twice.

  ‘Holster!’ Esme elbowed her way towards me through the crowd, holding her glass high up over her head. She was wearing an electric-blue tight lace dress, which not only looked exotically glamorous in a room of predominately black outfits but thankfully detracted the attention from me and my short dress for a moment.

  ‘And boom.’ She grinned, looking me up and down. ‘Red-carpet glamour. Right there. That Joop dress looks amazing on you.’ She looked around her and repeated loudly, ‘From Joop.’

  ‘OK,’ I giggled in a whisper, ‘advert over. Glad you approve.’

  ‘But I thought you weren’t dressing up? “It’s business,” you said to me.’

  I drew her closer. ‘Ben’s asked me to be his date to the dinner party straight after this.’

  ‘Eek, that’s fantastic,’ she squeaked quietly, grabbing my arm. ‘And is old lemon face cool with that?’

  My head flipped round frantically to check no one had heard Esme’s choice of endearment for Her Ladyship. Luckily not.

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t think she knows yet.’ I pressed my hand automatically to my stomach, which had just turned over at the thought. ‘Fingers crossed she doesn’t turf me out.’

  ‘Do you want me to hang around later,’ Esme balled her hand into a fist, ‘in case things get nasty?’

  I couldn’t help but laugh as I shook my head; she was such a loyal friend. ‘I doubt it will come to that. Besides, there’ll be a gong at seven thirty to signal the end of the Christmas at Home event. You’ll be given your Christmas gift bag and shepherded out along with the rest of the hoi polloi. I imagine that’s when Ben will tell her.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Holster. How could she not want you there? You look like a flippin’ A-lister in that outfit. Here . . .’ She opened up her handbag and doused me with her favourite Chanel perfume. ‘As Coco would say: “A woman who doe
sn’t wear perfume has no future.” And so now your future is secured. Now enough about you . . .’

  I grinned as she told me amidst much eye-widening and arm-squeezing that the barely worn designer clothing section that I’d suggested she add in at Joop was doing really well and she had persuaded her mum to turn down the offer they’d received for the business. Bryony was going to focus on her personal shopping customers for two days a week and Esme would run the shop herself from January.

  ‘I can’t thank you enough, Hols. It looks like I’m a businesswoman after all.’

  ‘I never doubted it.’ I grinned.

  ‘And – get this – I had an amazing chat with Zara earlier and she’s going to rope in all her friends to send their unwanted designer labels to me, too. So that means I’ll have younger stuff to sell. Zara’s lovely, just like a normal person; no airs and graces at all.’

  I laughed, remembering that ‘Heirs and Graces’ was the name Ben made up for the bogus magazine he said he worked for when we met.

  My stomach flipped suddenly; the Fortescues were just people at the end of the day. Just like Esme and me. I was probably worrying about Lady Fortescue objecting to Ben and me dating for nothing.

  ‘Anyway, to me,’ Esme raised her glass, ‘and my own business.’

  Her eyes danced with excitement as we chinked glasses to celebrate Joop’s new lease of life.

  I was thrilled for my friend; working with the Fortescues directly would bring her into contact with so many influential people, which was just what she needed to boost her sales in the spring.

  Just then the fashion editor at the Stratford Gazette caught my eye so I introduced her to Esme and made my excuses. Sheila had instructed me to mingle and attempt to talk to every person in the room to ensure their support of Wickham events for next year so I dutifully began the rounds.

  I was making polite conversation with the Fortescues’ accountant, who was telling me that she was spending New Year skiing in Switzerland with her husband and two teenagers, when a movement in the doorway caught my eye.

  My heart gave a little bounce as Ben walked into the room. He looked handsome in a slim-fitting black suit with a dark grey shirt open at the neck, his hair slightly damp and his face clean-shaven. Totally gorgeous. I gave myself a little shake and tried to concentrate on what the accountant was saying . . .

  Ben’s eyes found mine and his face broke into a wide smile.

  Beautiful, he mouthed across the room.

  You too. I smiled, feeling a flush of heat in my cheeks, and it was all I could do not to shove through the party and fling my arms around him.

  ‘Now that’s what I call an eligible bachelor,’ the accountant muttered out of the side of her mouth, straining her neck to follow my gaze.

  ‘Mmm,’ I murmured casually. An eligible bachelor who thought I was beautiful and who had chosen me to be his date. I must be the luckiest person in this entire room.

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as he greeted people effortlessly: smiling, shaking hands, touching people’s arms, kissing cheeks as he worked the room, moving ever closer to my place by the Christmas tree. The accountant continued with her lost passport anecdote but I could scarcely drag my eyes away from Ben and it was becoming more and more difficult to focus on her words. Ben Fortescue, my date. Merry Christmas to me . . .

  Suddenly he laughed loudly and as I looked up to see who he was talking to our eyes met. The accountant’s voice receded and the other guests faded from my vision until it was just him and me. And I couldn’t wait any longer.

  ‘Please excuse me,’ I said to the accountant, without breaking eye contact with Ben. ‘I think I’m wanted.’

  Ben crossed the room heading my way and I edged closer towards him, the pair of us grinning wildly. I had missed so many opportunities to get closer to Ben this year, I realized: in the gardens at the Summer Festival, the times when I’d turned down a second date after the exhibition opening, and then under the stars on Bonfire Night. But he was here now and I had no intention of letting him leave again for a very long time.

  Ben smiled me a smile that lit up his face like sunshine and stole my breath for a moment.

  ‘Hi,’ I whispered, ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘And I’ve missed you,’ he said gruffly. He took both of my hands and stepped closer. ‘You look like a Christmas angel in that dress, all golden and radiant.’

  ‘Thank you. You don’t look too shabby yourself.’

  ‘Although I must admit to being a bit disappointed you aren’t still in the elf outfit. That was sexy. In a green way. But you still look sexy,’ he added hastily.

  He waggled his eyebrows and gave me the twinkly smile that I adored. The one that hinted that if we could only find a quiet corner he’d show me exactly how sexy. I found myself glancing at the doorway and wondered whether we dared creep off. But before I could speak again he leaned forward so I thrust my cheek towards him, expecting a chaste peck. But instead he tilted my chin and pressed his lips to mine. My heart stopped for a fraction of a second, I closed my eyes and breathed him in, savouring his familiar citrus aftershave.

  ‘Ben!’ I murmured. ‘What if—’

  ‘Darling, there you are!’ Lady Fortescue shoved her head between the two of us, forcing us to step apart.

  She beamed at Ben and then at me and then gave a sort of general smile to the people around us.

  ‘Mum,’ said Ben, planting a kiss on the side of her head, ‘looking as lovely as ever.’

  ‘Benedict, can I borrow you for a moment?’ She tucked her arm through his as he nodded his consent.

  ‘You too,’ she said to me, flashing me an icy look that brought me out in instant goosebumps.

  ‘Of course, Lady Fortescue.’

  My heart thudded as I followed them numbly out of the sitting room and into a small room where the guests’ coats had been hung. Lady Fortescue shut the door behind us and folded her arms.

  ‘Benedict, I saw that. In fact, I think everyone in the room probably saw it. Kissing a member of staff . . . What do you think you are playing at?’ she said.

  ‘I apologize if I’ve caused you any embarrassment, Lady—’ I began.

  ‘Holly, there’s no need to apologize,’ said Ben firmly. ‘It was hardly obscene.’

  Lady Fortescue drew herself up tall. ‘Nonetheless, there is such a thing as propriety, Benedict. And as the next Lord Fortescue, I advise you to behave accordingly.’

  He flashed me a look of resignation and then, impervious – or perhaps immune – to his mother’s outburst, took hold of my hand. ‘I’ve invited Holly to the dinner party, Mum. As my date. That’s all right, isn’t it? Room for a little one?’

  He squeezed my fingers and gave me an encouraging smile; I tried to relax against him, but Lady Fortescue’s glare made relaxing very difficult.

  ‘I’d have invited someone suitable for you if I’d known,’ she fretted, running a finger along the beads at her neck again. ‘That nice girl who came up for the fireworks, for instance – she was very disappointed not to have met you.’

  Suitable. Meaning that I wasn’t. I felt my hackles rise and had to bite my tongue at that. Not ten minutes ago, I’d been agreeing with Esme that the Fortescues were just people like us. Clearly Her Ladyship didn’t feel the same.

  Ben pressed a hand briefly to his face. ‘Mum, how many times? I don’t need or want your help in choosing me a girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do,’ she said forcefully and then cast me a steely look. ‘And you, Holly. I’ve warned you about your behaviour before, but it seems my warnings have gone unheeded. It’s most unprofessional, and I must say it raises doubts about your commitment to Wickham Hall. This is the final straw.’

  ‘I agree,’ I declared, unable to keep silent for another second.

  ‘Holly—’ Ben interjected.

  ‘I agree; it is the final straw.’ I stared defiantly at her. I accepted that I wasn’t upper class like the girls that she so obviou
sly wanted her son to meet. I understood that, even if I didn’t like it. But criticizing my work was quite another matter. ‘I think you’re being unfair. I work hard and I am very committed. My job at Wickham Hall means the world to me.’

  ‘Well said,’ Ben added. ‘And, Mum, I kissed her because not only is she brilliant at her job, but she’s a very special friend to me. She’s coming to the dinner party because I invited her and as a member of this family, I get a say.’

  My heart swelled with joy and I smiled up at him, my eyes stinging with tears. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered, squeezing his hand.

  ‘Very well.’ The colour had drained from Lady Fortescue’s face as she reached for the door handle. She jutted her chin out and, ignoring Ben, addressed her final comment to me. ‘Friend or not, I really think Lord Fortescue and I are going to have to reconsider your position here. And until Benedict decides whether he will or won’t take over at Wickham Hall, he doesn’t have a say about that.’

  She swept out of the room, leaving my heart racing and Benedict momentarily speechless.

  I turned to him and took hold of his other hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Ben. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’ve made a mess of everything.’

  ‘Not at all, I’m proud of you for standing up to her.’ He looked at me, totally bewildered. ‘I don’t understand what she’s got against you. But one thing is for certain: there’s no way I’m going to spend the next five years here doing a handover before they retire. I will come back and run the estate, but on my terms and to my timescale. Right now, the sooner I can get back to London and move into my new studio the better. Wickham Hall can wait for the time being.’

  My stomach lurched; if Ben left now, Lady Fortescue would never forgive me and besides, was that really what he wanted, I asked myself, or was he just being stubborn? Today when he first arrived, he’d admitted how good it was to be home. I was sure that deep down, Wickham Hall was where his heart truly lay.