“No one broke the bank, then.”
“They were all convinced that you would marry her by the end of this season. I thought so myself…”
I settle her at the table. “Lady Antonia, it has been a pleasure, but if you will allow me, I will join my wife; I’m afraid that my mother is monopolising her too much,” I say as I take my leave. “You know, she adores her,” I can’t help adding.
17
Jemma’s Version
It’s a circus. A damn frigging circus!
And I’m the dancing bear. Or the seal with the ball, if you like.
Wherever I look, all eyes are on me, and Delphina is dragging me back and forth to introduce me to all the living dead she has invited. What’s more, tonight there’s a key Premier League match! If we get three points, we’re just behind the top team, so it’s our chance for this season. Yes, and I’m stuck in here, shaking the wrinkled hands of these titled dummies! While Arsenal is taking the field for a crucial match! God doesn’t exist or, if he does, he must hate me.
Delphina shows a disturbing smile that looks more like a grin, or a palsy; when nobody is watching, she pulls my skirt down and adjusts the scarf around my neckline.
She doesn’t let me talk, and answers questions for me before I open my mouth.
Anyway, I don’t envy Ashford, either. Quite a few ladies are fighting hard to get his attention, dragging him from side to side while uttering overexcited cries every time he speaks. He’s exasperated. Well, have your share of this shitty evening, baby, courtesy of karma.
There’s a gloomy sullen man who was introduced by Delphina more pompously than others. He’s got a very long name, Neville something, and answered her with nothing more than a grunt.
After exchanging a few words about the weather, Neville leaves to take his place at the table, and Delphina sighs with disappointment.
“What’s up, Delphina? Are you in love with that guy and disappointed ‘cause he didn’t even look at you?”
Delphina rolls her eyes, upset. “Have you lost your mind? That’s the Duke of Mouthmour and Whilmshire! He’s married!”
“That’s a pathetic excuse. He wouldn’t be the first,” I say, thinking of Alejandro.
“Oh, be quiet. The less you open your mouth, the better.” Delphina growls.
“What a fuss for a joke. You guys look so pissed off! Are you always like this?”
She doesn’t answer the question and changes the subject. “It’s time to go to the table.”
My seat is opposite Ashford, between Lord Murray and a Lady Valéry Fraser. She’s another one who must have witnessed both world wars, judging by the way she keeps her lips sealed to hold her dentures in.
Thank God Delphina is at a safe distance, playing the perfect hostess and sporting her charming and vivacious incarnation while sitting between her beloved Duke and Duchess of Mouthmour.
I notice that my lovely mother-in-law frowns like a moody little girl whenever the duke leaves the table, which happens quite often during the dinner. It must be his prostate… you know, dukes have those, too.
This reminds me that it’s high time to check the result of the football match!
The entrée plate has just been taken away – given its size, I didn’t even see the point in using a plate – so I have a five minute window to get to the kitchens, where I’m sure that Lance has already tuned thetvonto the sports channel.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I move my chair back and sneak towards the door before Ashford can ask any questions.
Apart from the dining room, the mansion is deserted, so I take off my heels and run down the hallway towards the kitchens. There, everyone is busy with last minute preparation and Lance, with his usual foresight, is just behind the door, ready to offer me a paper cone full of chips.
“1-0 for Arsenal. If you had arrived ten minutes ago, you could have seen them score, I’m really sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter. What counts is that they did!”
I sit on the steel worktop among the stacks of plates to enjoy some of the match, until Lance moves in front of me with a sad expression. “I apologise for the interruption, but we are about to serve the soup.”
I follow the legion of waiters up to the hall and bump into the grumpy duke who’s heading in the opposite direction. Suddenly I realise I’m barefoot, so my hands mechanically drop the shoes to the ground and I try to put them on quickly, but I stumble into one of the suits of armour lined up along the corridor.
