She looked at the pregnancy test one last time before hurling it into the bin with the others. Children were not part of the plan. They never had been. The plan was to marry as much money as possible, live in an enormous house, have servants to boss about and spend her days shopping, working out and picking at minuscule plates of food in expensive restaurants with stick-thin, tanned friends. Children had no place in that utopian vision. From her small experience of them, she had learnt that their pink, clammy skin concealed ruthlessly efficient factories for the production of puke, crap, snot, tears and noise. Who in her right mind would sign up to carry one of those around like some kind of bad taste accessory? She caught sight of her face in the mirror and pouted, lowering her eyelids a little so she could look through her lashes. In her mind’s eye, she saw Derek’s podgy face, his crinkly eyes and bulbous nose. Try as she could she couldn’t morph the two together. What would a child of theirs look like? Perhaps if it was a boy and he inherited her good looks and Derek’s bulk…
But what was the point in thinking about it? The child would have to go.
***
Later that evening, Derek, who was treating her to dinner at a posh place in Pantling, noticed she wasn’t drinking.
He jerked his head towards her empty wine glass.
‘Not in the mood?’
She hesitated. Why wasn’t she drinking? If she wasn’t keeping the baby why did she care if she damaged it?
Before her brain could register what was coming out of her mouth, she said, ‘Got to tell you something. Period’s late. Took a test. Pregnant.’
Derek put down his forkful of well-done steak. He gazed at her, open-mouthed.
‘Pre…’ he croaked.
She nodded.
‘Pre…’
Somehow a smile seemed to be tweaking up the corners of her mouth, and then she was gasping as half a tonne of overexcited male whisked her out of her chair and spun her round, yelling, ‘Pregnant! Gonna have a baby!’
She managed to indicate to him that spinning her round his head wasn’t a sensible way to celebrate and he replaced her in her chair, hands fluttering nervously above her stomach. Surprised fellow diners stopped staring and smiling and went back to their dinners.
She looked at him. ‘Wasn’t going to keep it, but…’
The colour drained from his face.
‘But… Maybe it’d be nice.’
‘Nice?’ He took one of her hands. ‘It would be the best thing that could ever happen in the whole world, ever.’
It was the longest sentence she’d heard him utter.
***
After the easy ride he’d had on Alice’s perfect day, Noblet wasn’t looking forward to Mia’s. A picnic, followed by a country ramble, a game of chess and a film wasn’t too taxing even for someone as unsociable as the Earl of Pantling. The film had made little sense and he’d fallen asleep halfway through, but his brother and Alice had seemed to enjoy it, and the curry had lived up to Alice’s accolades. Mia, he felt, was another kettle of fish. If she knew what a cosy night in by the fireside was, it wasn’t something she experienced regularly, he sensed. She was more likely to spend an evening sipping cocktails with billionaires on a private yacht in Monte Carlo; or hobnobbing with nomads under the stars in the Gobi Desert. (Were there nomads in the Gobi Desert? Probably, they got around.) He was looking forward to spending time with the exquisite Miss Wild, but would have been far happier if it had been on his terms. Now, if he had been allowed to plan his own perfect day… Vague visions of the Bodleian Library, cigars, Burgundy, roaring fires and roast dinners shattered into splinters at the sound of his mother’s voice.
‘What’s that, Mother?’
‘I said, you cloth-eared oaf, that at least the end is in sight. By this evening we will have identified the next Countess of Pantling. And not before time.’
No one was quite sure why Lady Caroline had joined them as they glided through the Mereshire countryside towards the assignation with Mia. Her chauffeur, arriving at the Hall to collect Henry and Noblet, had opened the door of the Bentley to reveal Her Ladyship ensconced inside. She had reprimanded them for keeping her waiting and snapped at Noblet for stepping on her foot, but had not as yet offered an explanation for her presence.
Noblet turned to her now. ‘Mother. Much as I adore every second we spend together; may I ask to what we owe the pleasure of your company today?’
Lady Caroline looked out of the window. ‘Curiosity.’
‘I see.’
‘No you don’t, Nobby. I suppose it seems surprising to you that I should be curious to find out more about my future daughter-in-law?’
‘You weren’t curious about the other candidate.’
His mother’s head snapped round. ‘I know better than to think you would contemplate marrying a cook who insulted your mother in front of all her friends.’
‘Oh, Mother…’
She held up a warning hand. ‘There is one candidate for the position of my daughter-in-law, and we are en route to meet her.’
As the car purred to a halt, Noblet realised all his worst suspicions were true. They had pulled up in a stable yard and Mia was approaching the car, wearing jodhpurs which showed off her long, shapely legs; but which to Noblet spelt impending disaster.
‘Oh – no. I’m sorry, but no,’ he said, before he was halfway out of the car. ‘No. Indeed not.’
‘What my brother means,’ said Henry, ‘is what a pleasure it is to see you again and he hopes you’re well.’
Noblet waved an impatient hand. ‘Naturally, naturally, all that too – but no. I’m sorry Miss Wild – Mia – but horses, no. I can’t.’
Lady Caroline shook hands with Mia. ‘He’s always been the most desperate little coward, but you mustn’t let that put you off, my dear. He needs someone with energy and determination to give him a push in the right direction.’
‘Like to push you in the right direction,’ muttered Noblet under his breath, ‘straight into that ditch.’
Shiny strands of Mia’s chestnut hair danced in the breeze and her eyes sparkled. No one could fail to admire her, thought Henry; her beauty took your breath away. Lady Caroline was staring at her almost rudely. He touched her on the arm.
‘Mother, you’ve met Mia before, of course.’
For a second, she didn’t respond, then, dragging her eyes away with difficulty she put a trembling hand to her head.
‘The heat is terrible. Let’s go inside.’ And without waiting for a response she set off towards the stable office.
Mia smiled at the brothers and agreed that the heat was terrible. ‘But,’ she added, ‘the best way to cool down is a refreshing ride through the woods.’ She looked mischievously at Noblet. ‘It’s the only way to start a perfect day.’
***
It took a good half an hour for the combined persuasive powers of Mia, Henry and Lady Caroline to coax Noblet out of the safety of the stables and onto a formidable-looking gelding.
‘His name’s Orion and he’s very steady,’ one of the grooms assured him. ‘He’s used for beginners because he’s so gentle.’
‘Nobby’s not a beginner, he just does a good impression of one. His father put him up on his first pony when he was four years old,’ said Lady Caroline.
‘Yes, and I got off for good as soon as I was old enough to express an opinion. I don’t see the point of it – no offence, Mia. I like my methods of transportation without muscles and minds of their own. Bicycles, cars – perfectly good means of getting from A to B. You won’t find a car heaving you onto the street in a fit of pique.’
‘I see,’ nodded Mia. ‘You prefer, say, a plane to a pony?’
‘Absolutely,’ he agreed.
‘Excellent. You’re going to love the next thing I’ve got lined up.’
As he watched her click her tongue and give a gentle squeeze with her heels to her horse’s sides, then head off out of the yard, he wondered what kind of a warped world matched such an angelic exterio
r to such a diabolical core.
***
When Colonel Markham answered the phone, his first thought was that he was the recipient of a nuisance call. In response to his ‘Hello, 744568?’ he heard heavy breathing. He about to replace the receiver, when a voice gasped,
‘It’s on, Colonel! Operation Fightback!’
‘What? Who is this?’
‘Elaine Jowlett. Spread the word. The quarry is sighted, we are in pursuit. Join us at Greenlands as soon as you can. Hurry!’
She was wheezing and short of breath.
‘Mrs Jowlett, please. Calm down and tell me what’s going on.’
There was more heavy breathing and then some muffled sounds. Ted’s voice came on the line.
‘I apologise, Colonel. My wife is out of breath. We had to run to keep up with the quarry.’
‘What quarry? What on earth are you talking about, man? Spit it out!’
Ted pulled himself together and made his report with all the precision of a man who worked part-time in the accounts department of Mereshire police headquarters.
‘At around eleven hundred hours today, we observed a female individual acting suspiciously in the vicinity of de Beeble Hall – or in the vicinity of the gatehouse, to be precise. The individual was parked in the layby, which you may be familiar with, some fifty metres along the lane. Myself and my wife – that it is to say Mrs Elaine Jowlett – were perambulating past said layby and my wife – Mrs Elaine Jowlett – remarked to me that the said individual appeared to be familiar to her.’
At that point, there was more rustling and Elaine came back on the line.
‘It was her, Colonel! That Stonor woman, sitting as bold as you like in her car, right here in our Gently Rising. It was clear she was up to no good – no doubt planning another piece of vilification – she was slumped down in her seat, trying to keep out of sight. My first thought was to confront her, but then I reflected. No, I said – no, Ted. We must be canny. We raced home, got in the car and sped back: just in time as it turned out. Lady Caroline’s Bentley had pulled out onto the road, and the Stonor woman was following it a good distance behind. Ted and I did the same.’
‘She didn’t see you?’ asked the Colonel.
‘No! Never so much as glanced in her rear-view mirror. Dangerous style of driving. Anyway, we drove out past Pantling and the Bentley turned into the riding school at Great Skelford. The Stonor woman carried on past and we followed her, all the way to Greenlands. She parked at the side of the road and darted off through the undergrowth and we did the same. We’ve got her in our sights as we speak. She’s hiding behind a tree and we’re keeping well out of sight in the undergrowth. Now, you must rally the others, Colonel, and come straight here. Bring the banners, but be as quick as you can.’
The Colonel sighed. The test match was on and an ice-cold gin and tonic awaited him by his easy chair near the open French windows. His duty was clear, however.
‘Stay where you are, Mrs Jowlett,’ he commanded, ‘reinforcements are on their way.’
***
As much as a woman consumed with bitterness and envy can be, Saskia was pretty pleased with herself. One unexpected side-effect of Henry dumping her was that she had, she thought, become a much better journalist. She had learnt to think on her feet, to follow up every lead and, most importantly, to hack into voicemails and emails and glean vital pieces of information. Not that she did the hacking herself, of course – she’d found someone discreet who did it for her. This discreet contact had breached the firewalls at Henry’s company in order to read Henry’s emails and those of his PA; which was how Saskia had found out what the schedule was for Mia’s final interview. Her background research on Mia herself had come together and she had quite an arsenal to present to Henry and Noblet about The Bitch; publicly and in as humiliating a manner as possible.
She had tipped off the paparazzi that there was going to be a sting in the tail of Lord de Beeble’s final interviews, and told them the location, and at that moment tens of them were creeping through the undergrowth to position themselves in prime locations for the denouement. There were some odd-looking paps around these days. She’d noticed a hugely fat, middle-aged woman and a skeletal man hiding behind a bush a few metres away. They looked familiar and not at all like your standard London paparazzi. She wasn’t interested in them, though. Her brain was intent on carrying out the unmasking of The Bitch, which, if it were to come off as she’d planned, required her best acting skills. She checked her watch. It was time to move.
Chapter 28
Noblet assumed that whatever was to follow couldn’t be as unpleasant as an hour’s bouncing around on an uncomfortable beast accompanied by two people who were thoroughly enjoying themselves, and to whom his discomfort seemed an added element of entertainment. Henry was a natural horseman and Mia could have been born on the back of a pony judging by the effortless way she handled her steed. Both of them kept pace with Noblet for the most part but were clearly holding themselves back, longing to be off, galloping across the hills. Noblet had all but ordered them to go on without him, saying he would catch up with them at the end. If there ever was an end to this penury.
When he and his horse stumbled out of the woods, both of them sore and grumpy, the sight of Mia and Henry waiting by a tiny aeroplane did not lighten Noblet’s mood. He dismounted.
‘What new hell is this?’ he enquired, conversationally.
‘Have you ever done a skydive before?’ asked Mia.
‘What kind of a question is that?’ he snapped. ‘You may as well ask me if I’ve ever purposefully stabbed myself in the eye with a butter knife. Or led a conga line into a lion enclosure in a suit made of steak. Of course I’ve never done a skydive before.’
‘Bob,’ warned Henry, ‘remember this isn’t your perfect day. You’ve agreed to go along with Mia’s plans.’
‘Oh, this isn’t my perfect day, you say? Well, thank heavens you told me, because for a moment I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Oh yes,’ he added, ‘I mistook this for my own perfect day, but luckily the fact that we’re being given parachutes clarified things. On my perfect day, I’d simply hurl myself out of a plane and hope for the best, because that’s the kind of adrenaline-loving daredevil I am, as you know.’
‘Calm down, Bob…’
‘I am calm!’ his brother yelled. ‘Perfectly calm! Now come on, what are we waiting for? Let’s experience perfection!’ he said before marching over to the plane and clambering in.
Once he had been coaxed out again and kitted out in a snug jumpsuit, padded hat and goggles, Mia took him through the drill. They would be doing a tandem skydive: he would be clipped to her front and she would operate the parachute. Henry would also be doing a jump and would be strapped to another instructor. She took him through the safety routine and explained that the pilot would take them up to 10,000 feet, they would jump out, freefall for thirty seconds or so and then deploy the chute, landing a couple of minutes after that.
Noblet was white-faced. ‘I suppose at least you’ve done this before?’
She nodded. ‘Once or twice.’
‘I’m surprised Mother isn’t here to see this,’ he said to Henry. ‘It’s got to be her best chance of seeing you become heir.’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ replied Henry, ‘she’s waiting at the landing site with a pair of binoculars.’
‘And a rifle, no doubt,’ muttered Noblet as he climbed into the plane.
***
At that moment, Lady Caroline, sipping Irish coffee from a thermos in the back of the Bentley, was listening to the afternoon play on Radio Four and absent-mindedly watching a woman cross the airfield in front of her. Something about her was familiar, although it was hard to say what, as her hair was tucked up under a wide-brimmed hat and her face obscured by a huge pair of sunglasses. The woman disappeared around the side of a hangar and Lady Caroline dismissed her from her mind.
***
Saskia approached a woman with a clipboa
rd.
‘Hi there, could I speak to whoever’s in charge, please?’
The woman looked surprised. ‘I’m running the admin side of things, can I help?’
‘Oh yes, I hope so,’ Saskia simpered, taking off her sunglasses and treating the woman to a winning smile. ‘You see my boyfriend is doing a tandem skydive today and I… well, this is a bit embarrassing but…’
The woman listened, a sympathetic smile on her face, and when Saskia finished, she nodded.
‘No problem. What’s your boyfriend’s name?’
‘Henry de Beeble.’
***
The plane rattled and lurched, Noblet moaning at each bump.
‘Henry. Henners. Have I ever told you how much I really, truly hate you?’
‘Why me?’
‘You knew about this. You could have stopped it. Aarrghh!’ The plane dropped and then righted itself.
‘Look on the bright side,’ said Mia. ‘You’ll be getting out in a minute.’
***
Saskia walked out to the landing area, accompanied by the lady with the clipboard. She held a roll of material under her arm.
The cluster of jumpsuit-wearing staff, waiting to help the landing skydivers, looked knowingly at each other.
‘Alright, love. Proposal, is it?’
Saskia nodded. ‘That’s right.’
‘It’s the group that’s just jumped,’ the lady with the clipboard informed them.
‘Right then, better hurry up and do your stuff, love, you can see them circling up there now.’
Saskia unfurled her huge piece of material and spread it out on the grass. It read ‘Henry, will you marry me?’ in large black letters.
Having secured the corners with stones, she stood back and looked up at the sky. Two parachutes, one blue, one green, circled high above them.
Lord Seeks Wife: A hilariously funny romantic comedy Page 24