The guests’ astonished looks jump from me to Ashford a couple of times before a not so energetic but noticeable handclap draws their attention. Lord Murray is applauding while looking in my direction and, shortly after, Lady Laetitia, Cedric’s wife and everyone else joins in. Ashford smiles, relieved, while he’s got all eyes on him. “Well, I married her because she’s so resourceful.”
The evening ends and, after saying goodbye to all the guests, I go to my room and collapse on my bed.
Suddenly, I hear someone knocking on the connecting door.
It’s Ashford, standing in the no man’s land between our rooms.
“I have to thank you. You saved Lord Cedric from choking.”
“Didn’t I embarrass the Burlingham family?” I ask sarcastically.
“Yes, of course you did. You have an incalculable number of flaws, you’re inadequate in almost every social situation, and you hardly ever engage your brain before speaking, but you’re smart, and it seems that your act of heroism saved the evening from disaster.”
“I know how difficult it is for you to pay me compliments, so thank you. Now stop, before insulting me more than you already have.”
“Goodnight, then.”
“Yeah, goodnight,” I say, and we close our respective doors, relieved.
18
Ashford’s Version
It’s been a week since that surreal dinner.
The day after, my mother withdrew to her study with a scowl on her face, contemplating how to get rid of Jemma’s corpse.
Then, the postman arrived.
Apart from the usual junk mail and some letters for me, there was a note written by Lord Cedric himself, in which he thanked my mother for the pleasant evening and praised Jemma. My mother still wants to kill her, but now she can spare her some of the pain.
Now that Neville has taken Jemma under his impenetrable wing, it seems that everyone in society has accepted her odd presence, but it was indeed a bitter pill to swallow. In any case, who stands on the highest rank of the social ladder sets the rules, and Lord Cedric gave his approval.
To tell the truth, I thought the evening was a total disaster, and I thought so until the last fifteen minutes, when I was already expecting to be publicly exiled without appeal. Not that I would have minded, anyway.
So far, I’d been convinced that Jemma’s passion for Arsenal was one of the most irritating flaws she has. I mean, one can’t exactly regard her as a shining example of femininity, but now imagine her shouting obscenities among a bunch of fat sweaty people. See what I mean?
Yet, it seems it was precisely her passion for Arsenal that won Lord Cedric over.
After his thank you note, our doorbell has started ringing incessantly, followed by other similar notes and invitations to all the major events of the season.
In fact, when I go down for breakfast, I find that the table is covered by elegant paper invitations of all shapes and sizes, which my mother and Margaret are studying with the same attention of two strategists planning the D-Day landings.
“If we attend the Walsinghams’ garden party, we can’t decline the St Jermyns’ tea invitation, because they have the same title, but that of the St Jermyns is more ancient. Lady Paulson has set the chamber music concert for the same evening the Baxter-Coleridges have organised thetableaux vivants, but it’s not surprising, given the rivalry between the two families. Accepting one of the two invitations would mean taking sides, so we have to consider this carefully. Highlight all the important dates, because we are setting the charity initiatives calendar at the next association meeting, and we can’t clash with some events. Not to mention off limits dates: Henley Regatta, Ascot, the Epsom Derby, the Wimbledon finals, the Chelsea Flower Show, the Serpentine Summer Party—”
“And my polo tournaments,” I add, joining the conversation. “By the way, I thought I’d have breakfast,” I say, casting a disinterested look at all those invitations.
“Indeed. It will be served in the private parlour. We’re busy here, can’t you see?” She points at the leather folder on which she’s taking notes. “It seems that the world can’t go round without us. Heaven knows what I’ll have to plan in return for all these invitations!”
Before she can try to involve me in her plans, I make a bid for freedom, but it’s too late.
“I have a task for you, too. Although she’s completely inadequate, that thing you married, Jemma, received approval. Lord Cedric’s, at least, and the others are totally irrelevant. Besides, if he likes her, they will, too, but we can’t allow her to embarrass us and make people gossip.”
“I’m hungry, mother,” I interrupt her, but she doesn’t even hear me.
“You’ll have to educate her. Take her horse riding and teach her how to dance properly. God forbid she ever goes up a table as if she were in a promiscuous East End club.”
“I’ll hire an instructor,” I agree, quickly.
