But, for a moment, I stood transfixed, staring at the gardener, wringing my hands.
The Earl shook his head. ‘You are no longer employed here, young man, so have no right to attend this party. I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.’
‘Really?’ Nick sniggered. ‘You might be interested in what I’ve got to say, first.’
He didn’t sound like Nick the gardener any more. It was the jerk from the other night who’d insulted me, dressed as Gemma.
‘For God’s sake, man, this is an engagement party,’ said the Lieutenant. ‘Let’s at least take this outside.’
‘No. These good people and the viewers at home have a right to hear what I’ve got to say. All I want is for the truth to come out.’ Nick smiled at me. ‘Isn’t that right, Abbey, mate? May I address you in such a familiar way, because, let’s face it, your behaviour over the last week or so hasn’t exactly befitted an aristocrat…?’
Henrietta mouthed ‘get Edward’ and I hurried away to find him, while Nick was dragged from the room.
LORD EDWARD’S E-DIARY
Wednesday 12th September
8.45p.m. As promised, I have slipped out of the Drake Diner to give you an exclusive insight into the engagement party. The band is playing well known tunes by Frank Sinatra and Father has even taken to the dance floor.
When I mentioned that I was bobbing out to write this e-diary, Roxy instructed me that female blog-readers might be disappointed if I didn’t describe at least two outfits. So, if I remember rightly (Roxy kindly summed up for me) Lieutenant Mayhew’s sister is wearing a ‘burnt orange off-the-shoulder chiffon midi dress’. His dear friend Bombardier Zoe Churchill is in a ‘little black cocktail number with diamanté trim’.
Roxy also insisted I provide some ‘gossip’. I had to ask what she meant. After a roll of her eyes, she just told me to say, quote… “Mr Thompson actually blushed and broke into a smile when first introduced to Bombardier Zoe Churchill’s widowed mother, and throughout the evening has regularly returned to her side – and even asked her to dance.” In addition…
Erm, excuse me, friends, my cousin has just entered the library and clearly needs to talk…
Chapter 27
‘Any of you toffs seen the movie Nine and a Half Weeks?’ said Nick with a smug grin, just as a purple-faced Edward and me entered the Long Gallery. I felt faint. At least Nick had been taken up here, away from the guests. Lady C and the Earl sat on one of the seats at the foot of a large window. Edward and I stopped by the portrait of the Earl’s glamorous mum. Mr Thompson and Lieutenant Mayhew had gone back downstairs. The TV crew quickly set up.
‘This’d better be good,’ snarled Edward and glared at Nick, ignoring his question.
Less familiar than usual, Gaynor reminded him that whatever Nick had to say was part of the reality show we’d all signed up for.
‘I doubt anyone has seen that film, Nick,’ I said, afraid of throwing up. ‘It’s, um, a favourite of my flatmate Gemma’s, which is the only reason I’m familiar with it.’
‘Really? So, what about Dirty Dancing or Ghost?’ He swaggered up and down.
‘I’ve heard of them,’ muttered Edward and loosened his collar. ‘Look, what’s this all about? My best friend’s engagement party is underway downstairs. If we’re going to play guessing games then I’ll leave right now.’
‘That’s a bit hasty, mate,’ said Nick. ‘You might be interested in what I’ve got to say. Abbey – will you tell them about our cinematic antics, or shall I?’
‘Abbey? It was you?’ said Edward, the colour draining from his face.
After a long silence, I blurted out my Plan Sex-up while staring at the floor.
Edward muttered that he’d seen something on the Internet about a movie competition, but had dismissed it as online gossip.
‘Huge apologies if I’ve brought the Croxley name into disrepute.’ I lifted my head. ‘But, quite simply, I was prepared to do anything to help us win this show. I thought a relationship between, um, the so-called upstairs and downstairs of the house might prompt some interest.’ I turned to face the camera. ‘I wasn’t trying to fool the public in a malicious way – all I wanted was to provide entertainment.’
After a silent minute or two, the Earl eventually spoke.
‘Don’t be too harsh on yourself,’ he muttered, in a gruff voice and scratched his beard. ‘No real harm done. Although, young lady, I suspect your father might want a few words.’
‘So that’s why you and Nick always seemed to be in cahoots?’ said Edward, the colour having returned to his cheeks. His gaze shifted down the gallery to the portrait of his grandfather— the serious-looking suited man with the sagging shoulders. ‘Over the generations, no doubt many Croxleys have done difficult things for the good of the family.’ He thought for a moment. ‘The whole plan lacked dignity but…Forget it, Cousin. What’s done is done. We’ll say no more.’ His top lip curled. ‘In fact it was quite brave of you, agreeing to spend more than a second necessary with this scoundrel.’ He turned to Nick. ‘What I don’t understand, man, is why you decided to tell us all now. From all accounts, you and my cousin got on well. Why would you reveal this secret? Why are you trying to ruin our chances of winning this show?’
He snorted. ‘Do you really think this family means anything to me, with your snooty noses and poncey clothes? As for Miss Croxley…’ he said. ‘Nice try, love, feeding me chilli strawberries. It took me all of yesterday and today to finally work out exactly why that scene was so unpleasurable.’
‘What’s he going on about now?’ muttered the Earl and opened his pocket watch. ‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense.’
Gaynor and Roxy looked at each other and shrugged.
‘It was, um, only a joke, Nick,’ I said. ‘Please forgive me. I thought you’d see the funny side.’
‘Oh, it’s hilarious, all things considered. You must have felt right at home, feeding me fruit like some little tart – excuse the pun.’
‘Take that back!’ snapped Edward.
Nick put up his hands. ‘Keep your hair on, mate. I just need a few more minutes of your time. Take my word, you’ll thank me, soon enough. Now, Abbey…Tell the room – where did you go to finishing school?’
Huh? Lady C and I exchanged looks. She was fiddling with her pearls. A shiver ran down my spine.
‘Switzerland.’
‘Where exactly?’ the slimeball continued.
‘Bern,’ I mumbled.
‘And, as a result of speaking to the locals there, you said your French was “superbe”.’
‘Erm, don’t you mean your German, Abigail?’ said Lady C to me brightly. ‘Everyone who’s well travelled knows that’s what they speak in the Swiss capital.’
Oh, Highland fudge.
‘No – I dug around. Actually, Abigail attended a famous finishing school in the French-speaking Swiss city of Geneva.’ Nick crossed his arms. ‘I found Miss Croxley’s name on their online back register.’ He looked straight into the camera. ‘Abbey’s story about studying catering in Surrey checked out, though. But why would she lie about where she attended finishing school? Unless, erm…’ He sniggered. ‘She didn’t know the precise details of her own history and, on the spot, made something up?’
‘You aren’t making any sense, man,’ said Edward. ‘Who exactly are you, anyway? I rang the agency that we employed you from in a hurry, and they could only provide scant details about your gardening experience. I should have questioned them thoroughly before taking you on, instead of being swayed by the fact your hourly rate wasn’t much.’
‘Me? A gardener?’ He shook his head. ‘If you’d bothered getting to know your staff any better, you’d realize that was a joke. Jean appreciated my muscle, but she’d be the first to tell you my knowledge of all things horticultural is limited. And didn’t you spot my designer T-shirts?’
I did—and his fancy cologne.
‘You don’t acquire things like that through working for peanuts,’ he c
ontinued. ‘I’m a private investigator, mate—previously a journalist. I’ve got a degree to my name. The only gardening I do is the metaphorical sort—digging up dirt on people.’
I gasped. How could I have ever been taken in by him?
‘This is all very distasteful,’ said Lady C quickly and stood up. ‘Come on, Abigail. Let’s, erm, leave the men to sort this out.’
‘Nice try, Lady Constance, but I think the Croxley men will want her here.’
‘Who hired you to spy on us?’ said Edward in a steely voice.
Gaynor was practically salivating with excitement and looked even more turned on than when she flirted with Edward. ‘What a fab coup,’ she hissed to Roxy.
‘Isn’t it obvious? Are you so naïve?’ said Nick. ‘This is a competition – for a million dollars.’
Of course. The Baron. That’s why Harry was in the pub that night. He must have been collecting information from Nick.
‘The Baron insisted the Croxleys were too perfect and wanted to know your flaw,’ said the smug PI. ‘A bit like a diamond—if it looks like there are no imperfections, then it’s probably a fake.’
‘That family dared investigate us?’ Edward’s eyes blazed.
‘Why not? Reckon they’re beneath you because they don’t hang portraits of relatives from centuries ago?
I bit my thumbnail and looked at Lady C, whose eyebrows had almost disappeared into her grey hair. The feeling of sickness had gone now. I just felt numb. Was it possible that this scumbag knew who I really was?
‘Would a real Lady suggestively massage the base of a fountain, on film, in front of the general public?’ said Nick.
Lady C raised her eyebrows at me, probably wondering why I hadn’t told her about the more recent things Nick and I had done.
‘Would a successful caterer’s daughter burn baked apples and prepare a salad dressing that burns your throat? Would she send onions flying across the table? Would she eat marinated asparagus with her fingers and watch carefully which cutlery other people used? Come on, guys, you’ve had access to the best education in the country. Surely you must have noticed something strange about Abbey, like…I’m just guessing… a lack of knowledge about Applebridge Hall and its heritage?’
The Earl stared at me. ‘I was a tad surprised at how little you knew about the first Earl of Croxley and our history, Abigail. But still…’
‘I doubted Abbey from the start,’ said Nick. ‘I mean, whoever heard of a Lady zooming downhill on a lawnmower or befriending a temporary gardening assistant?’
‘You seem to have some antiquated, clichéd view of what it’s like to be an aristocrat, young man,’ said Lady C. ‘The Earl and his son are most fond of their staff, Kathleen, Mr Thompson and Jean.’
‘But would they suggestively feed them fruit?’
Lady C’s jaw dropped and she turned to me. ‘So, that was you?’
‘No, of course they wouldn’t,’ said Nick. ‘So, I decided to investigate further and took myself around to Abbey’s flat in London. Now, according to a neighbour, Chelsea…’
Oh, crap. Not chatty Chelsea. She talked even quicker – and for much longer—than Roxy ever could.
‘… Abigail has indeed been away for the last two weeks—likewise, her flatmate, Gemma.’
Edward rubbed his neck.
‘Nice girl, that Chelsea,’ said Nick. ‘She invited me in for a cocktail; showed me some photos of her house-warming last year.’
I couldn’t move.
‘Where is this leading?’ said Edward.
Nick delved into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a photo. He handed it to Edward.
‘Abbey and Gemma,’ said Nick. ‘Just in case you were wondering.’
Edward glanced at me and then back at the shot, which he studied very closely. ‘Are you sure? There’s a definite likeness, but…’ He studied my face, then handed me the photo. ‘This Chelsea woman must be mistaken. The well-dressed blonde woman in that picture has definite shades of Abbey, but I don’t think she’s my cousin.’
‘Or perhaps it’s this woman, here in the flesh, who isn’t related to you. Consider that. Of course, you recognize Gemma, don’t you, Lord Edward?’ Nick smirked. ‘She’s the one you were so quick to defend the other night when I found her trespassing on your land. While here, she coloured her hair red – take that away and it’s the brunette in the photo.’
‘I have no idea what this is all about or… or how you doctored that photo of myself and Gemma,’ I said and forced my limbs to move. I headed to the stairwell. ‘Edward, Uncle, we have guests to attend to. Nick, you’ve had your fun, but I suggest you take yourself and your over-active imagination out of this house before we call the police. You, um, need to “get a life” – I believe that’s the phrase people use.’
Nick burst out laughing. ‘Okay, okay, I get it—you’re scared cos your cover is blown. But the least you can do is come clean.’
‘That’s enough.’ Edward lunged forward and grabbed his arm.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you,’ said Nick and shook him off. ‘The cameras are rolling. I could do you for assault. Okay. You’ve made me do this, Abbey – or should I say, Gemma?’
He held up his phone for Edward to watch and a video started to play. ‘That’s Chelsea,’ he said. ‘Listen to what she has to say when I show her some footage of “Abbey” on Million Dollar Mansion.’
‘Ooh, no,’ said a squeaky voice from the phone. ‘That’s not Abigail. Her nose is slightly too long. The face is a tad rounder and she’s not quite so slim. It’s a good likeness but… No. Definitely not. The hair’s not quite the same shade, either. And Abigail doesn’t walk that quickly, her steps are much more measured.’ Chelsea giggled. ‘If anything, that person looks and acts much more like Gemma, without the dark hair and fake tan. The two of them sometimes get mistaken for each other, you know.’
Silence, apart from jazz music wafting up the stairwell.
‘I was as sick as a dog after that mustard pineapple, you little bitch,’ said Nick and sneered in my direction. ‘It’s you, isn’t it, Gemma Goodwin—minus the WAG make-up, cheap clothes and home-dyed hair? Are you going to tell us why you’ve spent two weeks tricking this family and the nation into believing you’re a Lady when actually you’re a pizza waitress? So much for traditional values —this whole Croxley charade is based on lies.’
Lady C’s hand flew up to her face. The Earl’s mouth fell open. Only Edward remained statue-still. Despite letting out a mega gasp, Roxy managed to give me a sympathetic glance.
‘Sorry, I can’t do this,’ I said and hurtled downstairs. Heart pounding, I raced past champagne-drinking guests and escaped into the cool evening air. Briefly, I stopped to pull off my shoes and then, as fast as I could, ran around the back of the house and into the maze. After going around in circles I eventually found the grassy bit in the middle and, with noisy breaths, slumped to the ground, evening dew seeping through my dress. My hands shook like my cousin Kevin’s whenever he tried to come off the booze. It was too much…the sleepless nights, carrying on the pretence and now these revelations… I gulped. Was this what they called a panic attack?
What were the papers going to say after tomorrow night’s show, when that confrontation would be broadcast? I’d be the most hated reality show star in Britain and, as for what Edward must be thinking… My head dropped. I remembered Kathleen’s warning of how, above all else, Edward despised lies and deceit.
I sat bolt upright as the bushes rustled and a tall figure appeared by my side, chest heaving up and down.
‘Edward…Look. I’m sorry… I never meant to…’
‘So it’s true? I had to ask you myself.’ His voice shook. ‘You’re not my… my cousin?’
I stood up and took his hand but he yanked it away.
‘How could you? My father and I let you into our home. We trusted you. Was it all some kind of joke?’ He shook his head. ‘Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to get to know Abiga
il?’
My throat hurt as I gazed at his face—the drooping mouth, the questioning eyes. ‘I hated all the lies, but Abbey, she needed my help, you see—’
‘Constance just explained,’ he said in a dull voice. ‘I can’t believe she helped her niece pull off this deceit.’ He shook his head. ‘Why didn’t I see the signs? The unladylike words you played in Scrabble. Calling Henrietta’s mum Mrs Viscount…The strange expressions you came out with, only to blame them on the influence of your flatmate, Gemma – who was you all along.’
‘Yes. Me. Gemma. Who cares so much…’
He stared at my face. ‘Of course… The likeness, I can see it now. You’ve taken me for a fool.’
‘I did it for your family!’
‘Ten out of ten for acting – you should go to drama school. How easily you explained your appearances here at night. All those made up stories about your brother dropping you off… How do I know that anything you’ve said is true? Well, huge congratulations. Thanks to you, we’ll lose the show.’
‘Please, I—’
‘Gaynor wants you to do an interview with Charlie Chingo for tomorrow’s programme, so that you can put forward your side of the story,’ he snapped. ‘You may remain on the estate until the live final on Saturday – Gaynor thinks you should be there – but that’s it. You’re not welcome any longer than is necessary.’
‘Wait a minute…Edward—’
‘Father will speak to Richard. I don’t know what my cousin was thinking of when she asked you to take her place. It’s farcical.’
‘Her parents are away on a cruise,’ I said.
‘The two of you thought of everything,’ he said.
‘You know what? Yeah, we bloody well did. Abigail was so torn and didn’t want to let her father down – I couldn’t say no when she asked me to help. Zak—’
‘I heard,’ he said.‘All of this, so that she could go on holiday with her boyfriend.’
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