Persuade Me

by Juliet Archer

  ‘History?’ Sophie repeated, her stunned gaze flicking between Anna and Rick as if they’d each grown another head.

  Ed arrived, grinning broadly. ‘This garden centre’ll be history if we don’t open it soon. The shop’s full to bursting and the press are here in force. Come on, let’s get on with it.’

  ‘In a minute.’ Rick turned to Sophie. ‘There’s no need to worry,’ he said quietly, and Anna felt his fingers close round hers. ‘I don’t believe in wasting second chances.’

  Sophie’s eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘I’m very glad to hear it. You know, I’ve always thought–’

  ‘Hell’s teeth!’ Ed put in, his grin fading as he stared across the yard towards the main entrance. ‘Looks like Sir Walter’s decided to honour us with his presence. Anyone have any idea why?’

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  In the back of William’s Bentley, Walter reflected that Cléopatra Clé had exited his life as unexpectedly as she’d entered it. According to Lisa, she’d checked out of The Royal Crescent Hotel that morning, without so much as a thank you. So – no more purrings addressed to ‘Sir Voltaire’, no more delicious massages, no more saucy threats to attend to his sacral chakra …

  It was probably just as well, now that this new business venture of William’s was gathering pace and taking up an increasing amount of everyone’s time. They’d soon be checking out of The Royal Crescent themselves, and Walter – not William – would be moving into The Lodge while the main house was refurbished. Hardly fitting accommodation for a baronet; but William had assured him it was the best option in the short term.

  And, of course, Walter would agree to anything if it kept William at Lisa’s side.

  Now the Bentley glided to a halt in front of Farley’s Garden Centre and Walter had a blurred impression of freshly painted buildings, vivid splashes of colour and dim shapes milling about the yard. The opening ceremony wouldn’t have started yet – he might still be asked to step in at the last minute. How he’d enjoy keeping Sophie Croft guessing as to whether he would accept!

  He closed his eyes to run through the speech in his head. ‘We were truly delighted, though not at all surprised, when Mr and Mrs Croft begged us some months ago to open their humble little–’

  ‘Isn’t that Anna?’ William said, and the catch in his voice was unmistakable.

  Walter jerked his eyes open. Trust her to be here, lying in wait for the dear boy – just when he and Lisa were making the final arrangements for their …

  Fortunately, Lisa was on to it like a flash. ‘It is – and she’s wearing that dreadful coat, as usual. I told her it made her look like a hobbit when she bought it two years ago.’

  Two years ago! His middle daughter was simply beyond comprehension. Why on earth would anyone keep anything longer than one season? Walter gazed fondly at his brand-new tweeds, then frowned as he noted William’s cream wool suit. Lisa, it seemed, was no longer interested in dressing both the men in her life to the same high sartorial standard. There was an obvious explanation: cream was their main corporate colour and William wore it almost daily, whereas Lisa knew it made Walter look like a living corpse. When he’d mentioned their matching outfits, however, Lisa had pretended she didn’t understand what he was talking about. But who else had been able to find out what Walter would wear, and give that information so promptly and discreetly to William?

  A horn blared behind them. That would be Minty; William had offered to pick her up on the way, but she’d insisted on meeting them at the garden centre. Apparently she had a long-standing engagement earlier that morning to enlighten All Saints’ Young Mothers Group on the virtues of thrift. Walter wondered how she could be taken seriously in that Rolls-Royce.

  ‘I’ll get out – I want a word with Minty,’ he said, taking a handful of brochures with him.

  It seemed that she was just as eager to have a word with him. When he reached her car, the window was already wound down and, before he could speak, she hissed, ‘Have you seen who Anna’s holding hands with?’

  He could truthfully answer, ‘No.’

  ‘Rick Wentworth!’ She allowed this bombshell its full impact, then launched her next missile. ‘I read somewhere recently that his grandfather was a miner, and a communist! What would dear Irina think?’

  Walter was too busy doing some thinking of his own to worry about Irina. ‘Now, now, Minty – the man may lack breeding, but he’s got money and he’s generally thought to be extraordinarily good-looking. Physically, he rather reminds me of myself – a few years ago, of course.’ He paused, in case Minty wanted to elaborate on his superiority even now; but she said nothing. Closing his mind to the memory of exquisite ‘Sir Voltaire’-laced compliments, he continued smoothly, ‘Last but by no means least, Dottie Dalrymple finds him an inspiration! We’ve left her in Bath reading every book on barnacles she can lay her hands on.’

  ‘Barnacles!’ Minty gave a grotesque snort. ‘Look, I know it’s not like last time, when Anna was so young and her place at Oxford was at stake–’ She broke off, and her whole face began to twitch and tremble – most unattractive; and he had to bend lower to hear what she was saying between revolting, hiccupping sobs – most inconvenient. ‘But, Walter – you do realise – if she still wants to be with him – we’ll hardly ever see her? He lives on the other side of the world!’

  Exactly, Walter thought. As far away as possible from William and Lisa.

  Aloud he said, ‘You may be jumping to conclusions, my dear. I’ll go over and have a little chat with them, do some subtle probing to find out the lie of the land. No need for you to come – just leave it to me.’

  Anna’s heart sank like a stone at the sight of her father mincing towards them. She could see what was going to happen: at best an altercation between Walter and Rick, at worst a fight – all diligently recorded by journalists and photographers – and the opening of the garden centre ruined.

  Not her life, though. This time, she would stand firm.

  Everyone greeted each other civilly enough. But when Ed tried to hurry them all into the shop, Walter announced grandly, ‘We’re here to publicise our new business venture. It won’t launch for another six months, but we’re taking bookings now.’ He brandished half-a-dozen expensive-looking brochures in their faces, as if distributing largesse to the poor.

  ‘Sir Walter,’ Sophie began angrily, ‘we really haven’t time–’

  ‘It’s in a different league from other local enterprises, of course,’ he went on, with a dismissive nod at Sophie and Ed’s shop, ‘and destined to be a resounding success. Thankfully, there will always be those who value a noble lineage over fly-by-night celebrity, taste and refinement over tacky mediocrity. That is, after all, how we secured considerable investment to restore Kellynch to its former glory.’

  And, instantly, Anna had to know – what was he up to? ‘Let me see that!’ She grabbed one of the brochures while Rick tightened his grip on her other hand; as he looked over her shoulder at the embossed gold script on the textured cream cover, she felt the reassuring warmth of his body at her back.

  ‘Brides of Kellynch’, she read out, in a strangled voice. ‘The ultimate wedding venue – a touch of class for your special day.’ She hesitated over the next two words, wondering if she could ever bring herself to utter them. ‘Noblesse oblige,’ she managed at last, through gritted teeth.

  Walter gave a pompous smile. ‘And the best news of all – my eldest daughter, Elisabeth, will be the first “Bride of Kellynch” when she marries William Elliot-Dunne.’

  ‘More like “Bride of Dracula” then,’ Rick murmured.

  But if Walter heard this taunt, he didn’t rise to the bait. ‘A late spring wedding, we hope,’ he simpered, ‘when our extensive facilities are complete – the Cherished Moments Chapel, the Royal Reception Hall, the Select Spa, the Bridal Bower for outside photographs, and so on.’ He looked straight at Anna and Rick and said, without any preamble, ‘If you two are getting married, we’ll try and f
it you in somewhere. We might even agree to a small discount – for family, as it were.’

  ‘A very generous offer–’ Rick sounded amazingly composed, Anna thought – ‘and one that will get all the consideration it deserves.’

  ‘Noblesse oblige.’ Walter nodded benignly at him, then swivelled his cold blue eyes accusingly in Anna’s direction. ‘Haven’t you anything to say?’

  But Anna couldn’t trust herself to speak. She was imagining her beloved home over the coming months, and its inevitable desecration. Living in Bath – even though she knew she would have Rick beside her – might prove too close to Kellynch for comfort.

  Suddenly, Australia didn’t seem too far away after all.

  Epilogue

  In The Lodge, Walter turns this way and that, admiring the cut of his new Ascot-grey morning coat in each of his reflections. This has become a daily ritual, even though it’s only late February and Lisa’s wedding is still some months off. The Lodge’s second bedroom is barely adequate as a dressing room – so cramped with all these mirrors – but downsizing is his contribution to the greater cause, Brides of Kellynch. Best of all, it gives Minty no ammunition to complain about his extravagances.

  Minty, however, has bigger fish to fry. As financial controller for Brides of Kellynch, she has a budget that exceeds her wildest dreams – and the meddling power that goes with it. Up at the main house, she sits in her new office – handily situated to ensure a good view of both the front door and the tradesmen’s entrance – and prepares her weekly report for William and his idiot of an accountant. She occasionally stops mid-sentence to wonder aloud what dear Irina would think – but there is nobody around to listen.

  Across the hall, Lisa harangues the architect about various plumbing problems at the spa complex in the west wing. She threatens to sue him if Select Spa isn’t ready in two weeks, reminding him that it is opening well ahead of the rest of the wedding venue as a private members’ club. Its manager, Mrs Clay, has worked day and night to deliver a very exclusive client list – all local dignitaries, eager to experience the beneficial effects of massage.

  In the spa, behind locked doors, the conscientious Pat Clay is busy giving William a thorough … debriefing. Despite jet-black hair and a broad Somerset accent, she bears a startling resemblance to a certain Cléopatra Clé. Her future here is secure: as well as the private members’ club, the Brides of Kellynch brochure promises ‘a relaxing massage for the bride and groom, separately or as a couple’, so she is sure her Hands of Love won’t be idle.

  Recovering from his one-to-one with Mrs Clay, William contemplates his good fortune. He has two women in his life who seem to have one purpose in theirs: making him happy, without forcing him to choose between them. Furthermore, his plans to sweat the Kellynch asset are on track. And, finally, his future father-in-law is extremely biddable, so William has no problem letting him out of The Lodge now and then. In a display of breathtaking audacity, he has even allowed him to meet Mrs Clay; but, as he explained to Lisa, given Walter’s poor eyesight and aversion to her ‘common’ accent, they can safely assume that William will one day inherit the title he’s already prone to using. Life couldn’t be sweeter, except ... But he is becoming more and more adept at blocking that pale, heart-shaped face from his thoughts.

  Along the road at Farley’s Garden Centre, Sophie and Ed Croft have been up for hours. Business is slow but, despite Walter’s assurances to the contrary, they are building up a loyal following. And Sophie is relieved that they ended up living on the premises instead of moving into The Lodge – the rent on the greenhouses at Kellynch is prohibitive enough. Although she’s heard a rumour that Brides of Kellynch is seeking planning permission to turn them into something known as the Glass Garden, an alternative to the Bridal Bower on rainy days …

  A little further away, in their magazine-strewn bedroom at Uppercross Manor, Mona complains to Charles that their wedding was really crappy by today’s standards. She thinks they should renew their vows, and she’s already made enquiries at Brides of Kellynch. Of course, once the Musgroves see how things really should be done, they will want all their family events at Kellynch, not just weddings. And it shouldn’t cost anything because, in return, Mona will offer her home-grown public relations services – Lisa doesn’t have a clue how to handle the press – and vet the list of prospective brides. One can’t be too careful when the family name is at stake.

  But Mona ends up talking to an empty room. Charles storms downstairs, rounds up Ollie and Harry and makes for the sanctuary of the Great House. Here, his parents and sisters – with their partners – are having one of their frequent family get-togethers and Charles knows that, briefly, he will forget his troubles.

  In Bath, Jenny and Tom are getting to know their new tenant, one of Rick’s colleagues at the University of Melbourne who’s over here on a two-year contract. Jenny has high hopes of pairing him off with Christina – only not just yet. She’s already lost the company of one very good friend in recent months.

  On the other side of the world, somewhere off Kangaroo Island, a man and a woman sit on the deck of a boat watching the stars. It’s a time for reflecting on the past, dreaming of the future, and celebrating …

  … the power of persuasion.

  About the Author

  Juliet describes herself as ‘a nineteenth-century mind in a 21st-century body – actually, some days it’s the other way round’. The youngest of four girls, she was born and bred in North-East England, where she met her future husband. Unlike Anne Elliot in Jane Austen’s Persuasion, she got married despite pressure to wait until she’d finished her degree, and emerged from the University of Nottingham with a First in French and Russian. Thirty years later she is still married, has two teenage children and lives in Harpenden, Hertfordshire.

  Her debut novel The Importance of Being Emma was shortlisted for the Melissa Nathan Award for Comedy Romance 2009.

  Juliet’s stories are modernisations of Jane Austen’s novels.

  www.julietarcher.com

  www.twitter.com/julietarcher

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  Visit www.choc-lit.com for more details including the first two chapters and reviews.

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