A Hopeless Romantic Part 25

It was Lady Rose, corseted in pale brown lace and silk, looking exactly like Queen Mary, a cool smile on her face. She caught sight of her place card next to Laura's; Laura saw the look on her face. Laura looked back at the table and concentrated on the huge bowl of flowers in front of her, trying not to eavesdrop.

"Nick," Rose said softly to her brother. "I wasn't supposed to be sitting here."

Nick smiled. "h.e.l.lo, Rose. Well, you are now," he said. "I moved things around a little, hope that's okay. Malcolm's next to Lavinia, he's fine. You're next to Laura."

"But-" said Rose. Her voice grew louder. "I always sit next to you."

"Rose," said Nick firmly. "Sit down, please."

Laura, unable to avoid listening to this exchange, was torn between wanting to stand up and offer Rose her seat back and wanting to slide gently under the table and crawl out of the room.

There was a pause; the tension was palpable. And then Rose sat down next to her, and smiled graciously.

The doors closed behind them, and Nick stood up, and waited for the babble to subside. Down the long room, the noise fell, and fifty or so faces turned to look at him expectantly. The only movement was the glint of diamonds in the light of the chandeliers.

"Just a minute, please. Thank you. Hey!" Laura jumped as Nick banged his hand on the table. He called down the room to two old men who were still talking, "Alec! Geoffrey! This won't take long. I just want to welcome you all. All of you."

He paused infinitessimally. His voice was softer, and she did not dare look up at him, but she felt as if he was talking to her.

"We're all family, aren't we? And it's rare that we are all together. So perhaps we should drink to that. To this evening. I'm so glad you're all here tonight. To the Needham family."

There was a shuffling of chairs as the a.s.sembled company stood up. "The Needham family," they chorused.

Laura looked around the room. If my friends could see me now, she thought. Imagine if I called Jo and told her where I was. Or Yorky. They'd never believe it. She looked at the offending Geoffrey and Alec, stout and bespectacled; at Great-aunt Teresa, leaning heavily on a stick, staring beadily into s.p.a.ce; at Charles, Lavinia, and Malcolm Balmore, who was short and squat and looked very disgruntled about something. At the ma.s.sed ranks of Needhams, scanning along the row until her eye rested on Rose, stately and gracious, nodding at someone opposite her; and then she turned to Nick, her Nick, so tall and grave in his dinner jacket, and felt overwhelmed. She didn't know what she was doing there at all.

chapter thirty-one.

D inner was not a nine-course gourmet affair; it was a huge roast dinner for all, with the toast to Sir Guillibert Danvers scheduled to happen halfway through the evening, followed by more wine and pudding. Laura smiled inanely at no one as the roast beef was served, as if she were having a simply fantastic time. Around her the Clan Needham talked amongst itself, and Rose inclined her head graciously toward her from time to time. And, of course, Nick was next to her, chatting politely to some ancient aunt and uncle opposite him, occasionally turning to her to see if she was okay, and looking so pleased when she would smile and simply say, "Yes, I'm having a great time, thank you."

As seconds were being served, Rose swiveled her attention around to Laura. She leaned forward and reached for her gla.s.s. "So, Laura. I hope you're enjoying yourself tonight?" she asked in polite tones.

"Oh, yes, thank you," said Laura. "I'm very glad to be here."

Rose said nothing, but inclined her head graciously.

"It's beautiful here," said Laura, knowing this was a pathetic thing to say, but not sure how else to break the silence.

"Yes. Yes, it is," said Rose. "Tell me something, Laura." Laura nodded. "How did you meet my brother? I'm so curious."

"Er, well," said Laura. She toyed with the idea of saying "At the Sandy Lane Resort in Barbados" or "St. Tropez last year." What did it matter how she'd met him? Why was it important?

"I was here on Wednesday with my parents, for the day," she said. "I b.u.mped into him then-we got talking, and we ended up going out for a drink in the evening."

Rose's expression was undefinable. "Your parents?"

"Yes," Laura said carefully. "We're here on holiday. We were going round the house." She took a deep breath.

"How nice," Rose said eventually.

"Yes," Laura said. "I go back to London tomorrow, so Nick was kind enough to ask me tonight."

Rose nodded. "I see." And then she was silent.

Laura found herself gabbling. "Which is rather weird, because I know it's a family night, and I'm a complete stranger! But I'm incredibly touched to be asked." She knew she sounded like a fourteen-year-old, that she wasn't saying the right thing, but with no idea of what that might be, she thought she'd better keep talking.

Rose raised her gla.s.s. "Well, so here you are, then." She paused, then smiled brightly. "Forgive me. It's rather a surprise, that's all. My little brother is rather useless, isn't he?"

"Yes," said Laura, blindly agreeing. "Well," she amended hurriedly, "no, I don't think-"

"You see," Rose said, unheeding, "I rather thought he had a girlfriend. That's why I'm surprised. He was seeing a girl called Cecilia."

"Yes, he told me," said Laura, refusing to be ruffled.

"Oh, you know? Of course," said Rose. 'She's terribly nice. I don't know if you know her. Her father's a very good friend of Sir Malcolm's. We've known the family for ages. The Thorsons."

"Right," said Laura.

"They were terribly kind when...my father died." Rose cleared her throat. "You see, there were debts, when Nick inherited two years ago. And the Thorsons have been so helpful, advising him, all of that. So kind. We thought he and Cecilia would get on. It was going rather well, I'd heard."

"They're not seeing each other anymore," said Laura. "We talked about it."

She sounded rather gauche, schoolgirlish, she realized. Rose looked pleased, like a cat.

"Oh you did, did you? Well," she said, and her tongue darted out of her mouth; she looked like her sister, Lavinia, for a fleeting second. "I'm sure if that's what he told you..."

"Yes, it is," said Laura. She felt she ought to distance herself a little from this. She didn't want to sound like a stalker. "But, of course, I have only known him for a very short time, so..."

"Yes," said Rose, almost purring. "You're quite right. So." She smiled and waved at someone farther down the table. "Ah, there's Emily. Dear thing. I must say h.e.l.lo to her afterward." She cleared her throat, as if drawing the line under the conversation, now her point was made. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying your time here."

"Thank you," Laura said.

"We're all family here tonight," Rose said. She ran a short, plump finger around the rim of her gla.s.s. "Except you, of course."

"I'm very lucky."

"Yes," said Rose. "I'd say you were."

And with that, she turned back to her neighbor, leaving Laura staring down at her plate, not knowing what to say.

It's almost impossible to have a relaxed conversation with someone when you know everyone else is looking at you, appraising you, judging you. And, in Rose's case, wishing you weren't there. After this, Laura felt even more exposed, and when Nick turned to ask her how it was all going, she found herself making small talk with him, as if he were one of Mum and Dad's neighbors at a barbecue in Harrow. She didn't know what to say to him, all of a sudden, how to talk to him. She wanted to be alone with him on the beach, or in his room. As if it were last night, or the night before, or before that. Before real life got in the way-and what a reality it was.

Because it was different now, all different. Among Laura's opening salvos to Nick were: "Do you have job-share schemes on the estate?"

"Is the soil good for growing potatoes, then?"

"Who handles the insurance for the paintings?"

"That's an interesting chandelier, how old is it?"

What she didn't say was: "Can I punch both your sisters?"

"How do you cope with this, all the time?"

"Why can't it be the two of us, like it was before?"

And, "Do you realize I've fallen for you?"

Eventually, the plates were cleared away after the first course, and Charles stood up to announce, in his polite, soft voice, that there would be a break and then the toasts to Sir Guillibert Danvers would begin. Nick turned to her, and put his napkin on the table.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" he said, smiling at her, just her. "Outside, for a couple of minutes. I don't really feel like I've been a very good host to you tonight."

"I'd love that," she said, gazing up at him, thinking how perfect he was to her in that moment, with his long, bony face, tanned skin, kind, clever eyes. How much she wished they could just leave this evening behind, forget it. Perhaps they could-perhaps the feeling that was growing inside her, this feeling of doom, perhaps she was wrong about it. Perhaps it would be okay.

He touched her hand lightly. "Right. Let's go. I'll-"

"Nick! M'boy! d.a.m.n good to see you."

"Leo, h.e.l.lo," said Nick, turning around and standing up. Laura turned to see a large, purple-faced man whose dinner jacket strained alarmingly at the b.u.t.tons. "Leo, this is Laura," Nick said, holding Laura's elbow and urging her forward.

Laura shook Leo's hand. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"And you," said Leo, looking at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and not at her face. "And you, m'dear. Good that you're here," he said to the b.r.e.a.s.t.s again, before coming to with a start. "Before I forget, Nick. Need a small word with you in private. Now?"

"Now?" said Nick. "I just-"

"Can't stay afterward, m'boy. It's about Pickleton. The cottages. Now Ned's dead. Really think we should discuss it." Leo looked rather anxious. "Not sure what to do, if the truth be known."

"Of course, of course," Nick said, patting his shoulder. "Laura, do you mind? Why don't you wait here? I'll only be a minute."

"I'll go outside and wait," said Laura, who didn't particularly want to be left alone. "I'd love some fresh air. See you on the steps."

He raised his hand and smiled briefly, turned away, and walked out. She could see his retreating back and Leo's as they disappeared through the great hall into a room off to the side.

Laura sat down, and drained her drink. She looked for Charles, but couldn't see him. Across the way from her, various old ladies chattered happily amongst themselves; she thought how like her grandmother they were, and how Mary would get on beautifully in this situation, would take to it like a duck to water, in fact. She stood up, trying to look inconspicuous, and headed out to the great hall. She didn't feel inconspicuous, though. She'd never felt more out of place in her life.

She went outside and waited on the steps. The landscaped grounds were in near darkness now, with only the glow from the floodlit house illuminating the gravel, the drive, a little of the way beyond down to the fountain in the distance. A few people from the dinner-she didn't know their names-walked past her or came out and saw her, but they didn't bother her. The stone was warm from the heat of the day.

So she sat and waited, and thought about the last four days, and how she had come to be there. She thought about Mary's birthday, about how stressful family affairs were, but how it was worth it to see her grandmother surrounded by her family and friends, to realize how lucky she was to have her parents as her parents. How funny this afternoon had been; she suddenly saw Lulu and Aunt Annabel's incredulous faces as Laura said goodbye to the a.s.sembled group and drove off in her black dress to Chartley Hall. She thought about Yorky on his date, how it was going, and felt a sharp pang as she found herself wishing she were there waiting for him to come back, so they could sit up and chat about it over a late-night drink. About popping round to Jo's; sitting at her and Chris's kitchen table reading the Sunday papers, laughing and drinking coffee, being normal. Tomorrow was Sunday; when she got home, she knew there would be a letter waiting from Rachel confirming her meeting about coming back to work. A job. A life again, on an even keel, now that the madness of the previous few months was over. She thought about Dan, and shook her head, her hand pressed to her heart when she remembered how blindly she had loved him, wanted to love him, to be with him, and how utterly different the reality was, the cold hard facts of daily life.

She looked behind her, to the house. It was funny, wasn't it. This was reality now, right this minute. The last few days with Nick, just being with him, just the two of them, walking, talking, kissing, making love-they hadn't been real, because they weren't the truth. This was real, sitting on the steps now, waiting for her romantic hero to come out the door to meet her; and the irony was it was like something out of one of the novels she'd wanted so much to live in.

As she sat thinking, sifting all these thoughts through and through, gradually Laura realized what she had to do; and the idea of it was awful, she didn't know how she would get through it, but she knew it had to be done. She looked down at her dress, her feet in their strappy sandals, shimmering silver against the dark stone. She wanted to remember it, remember being here, preserve it, so she would always know what it felt like to know he was here, on his way out to find her, that he wanted her.

It seemed as if hours had gone by, but it was only a few minutes later that she heard his footsteps behind her, and he came and sat down next to her.

"h.e.l.lo," he said, and he slid his arm around her waist. "Sorry to keep you waiting." He kissed her. "Leo does go on rather a lot. He's a great chap-he was my dad's cousin, you know. He runs the estates in Lincolnshire, does a fantastic job. But he's rather...wordy, you know. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," said Laura. "Honestly."

There was silence between them.

"We should go back in in a minute," said Nick. "I have to propose the toast, and wear this ridiculous hat. I'm sorry. And there's a rhyme thing. G.o.d, it's ridiculous, but it keeps them happy for another year, and..." He trailed off as Laura stood up.

"I'm going, Nick," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"What?" said Nick blankly. He looked up at her. "Inside?"

"No," said Laura. "I'm going. Going home."

"But it's-" He stood up. "What are you talking about?"

She knew she had to play a part. "I'm not staying here," said Laura in the tone of an offended, stroppy girlfriend. She stood and started to walk down the steps, clutching her bag. "I'll get the car myself. Thanks for a lovely evening."

"Laura!" Nick caught her by the arms. He was almost laughing, but there was panic in his eyes. "What are you talking about? You can't leave, it's-we haven't had pudding yet." He shook his head, as if aware of how silly that sounded. "You know what I mean. We haven't spent any time together. I want-I thought you were staying with me. Tonight, I mean."

She shook free from his grasp, looked away, took a deep breath, and then faced him.

"Stay here? And be treated like this? You must be joking." Her voice was shriller than usual. She let the muscles in her face form an ugly expression, and she smiled at him spitefully. "Who are you kidding, Nick? I've had a c.r.a.p evening, and you've treated me like dirt. You've barely spoken a word to me! You let your sisters be rude to me!" Her voice rose. "I'm not used to it, okay? I'm used to being treated politely by my date. Like a lady." She thought, feeling sick, that might be going a bit too far; she didn't want to sound like Sybil Fawlty. But he had to believe her. She put her evening bag over her shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Nick," she said. "We had a laugh, didn't we? But I'm going to go now."

Nick was staring at her, shaking his head. "No-no," he said. He moved closer to her. "Laura? Why are you being like this? I don't-aren't you glad to be here? I thought you wanted to-I thought you didn't mind all this..." He trailed off, his eyes beseeching her.

"What, you think I'm going to be on my knees with grat.i.tude because the big lord's invited little old me to his stately home? Eh? Like a f.u.c.king geisha, is that what you think? Thanks so much, sir, I'm nothing and I'm so grateful." Laura was trembling, shouting as she said it. It was horrible. She hadn't imagined it could hurt this much. "Well, I'm not. So perhaps you'd better look around for someone else who's more up your street. Okay?" She ran down the last two steps.

"Is this about Cecilia?" said Nick, coming after her. "Rose just cornered me and asked me lots of stupid questions about her, about why we broke up. I'm not seeing her, Laura. Rose is just trying to bully me into marrying some f.u.c.king millionaire's daughter just so she and Malcolm can have the proprieties observed. Is that it? What did she say to you?"

Laura saw her chance and took it. "How am I supposed to believe you?" she said, making sure she kept her voice shrill. "Your sister didn't know you'd broken up with her-how am I to know if you're still seeing her or not? You lied to me about being a marquis, Nick, you could lie to me again."

He was staring at her, his expression totally bewildered. "I don't understand you, Laura. I thought we-I thought you..."

Laura turned and walked away so she didn't have to look at him anymore, because she was on the verge of losing her resolve, and she was nearly there, it was nearly done, and she couldn't believe how much it was hurting her.

"Just leave me alone, Nick," she said, her voice breaking.

He followed her, around the house, toward the stables at the back, and grabbed her hand. She s.n.a.t.c.hed it away as he swung her round to face him. They were standing on the gravel in the shadow of the huge, dark stables. The trees behind them sighed in the nighttime breeze.

"This isn't you," he said quietly. "Laura, why are you doing this?"

She looked at him, and her shoulders heaved. A sob welled up in her throat. "I can't do this," she said softly, her voice breaking.

He drew her to him, holding her tightly. His b.u.t.tons pressed into the thin fabric of her dress, digging into her ribs. He kissed her hair and murmured, "Laura, oh, Laura. What's wrong?"

She drew back from him slowly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Nick," she said. "Please. Don't try to stop me. Just let me go. I'm not p.i.s.sed off, I'm not pretending anymore."