“Do you really think there’s another crazy man out there willing to marry you?”
“If not for me, it will be for my money. I’ve already found one,” I say, looking at him straight in the eyes.
“When are you going to cut it out?”
“Never. You tease me all the time!” I reply.
“I just can’t get rid of this bad habit.”
“Back to what we were saying, it just sounds absurd to me to summon fifty people to celebrate something so private.”
“They probably called it ‘anniversary party’ because ‘come and see the newly frescoed salon we spent two hundred thousand pounds on’ wasn’t that elegant.”
“Two hundred thousand pounds to paint a ceiling? Boy, they fooled them pretty well!”
Strangely enough, Ashford laughs. “I have to agree.”
When we enter the Skyper-Kensitts’ mansion, the reception hall is already crowded with guests. Sophia comes to meet us as soon as she detects Ashford.
“Ashford! You made it!” She exclaims with an overexcited shriek.
“I made what?” He asks.
“You made it to come here!”
“Yes, it was indeed an incredible endeavour to drive for less than twenty-five miles from Denby and get here safe and sound, if that’s what you mean.”
I am surprised by Ashford’s quick wit and by the sarcasm of his replies to Sophia. I thought that he liked all these arse-kissers.
Sophia ignores the remarks and puts her hand on Ashford’s arm. “You’re always joking! Didn’t your mother come along?”
“She had a concert in London. Stanev Kucera is playing.”
“What an event! I wouldn’t have missed it for the whole world if there hadn’t been this party. But my parents were so keen to celebrate their anniversary, that they even brought forward the end of the salon renovation. Did you notice the ceiling stuccos?”
“Um, they’re just…” Ashford says, as he looks up and thinks of a comment, but he’s rather doubtful. Then, he finishes his sentence: “… fine.”
“You can still smell the paint,” I point out.
“Oh, Jemma, you’re here too.” At last, Sophia has decided to talk to me.
“Exactly. I’ve been next to Ashford this whole time.”
He notices the tension between us. Sophia may be nice to him, but she isn’t to me, at all. “Isn’t it time to take our seats at the table?” She asks, leading me towards it.
Almost everyone has found their seats, while I’m still looking for mine. I bet that bitch has ‘accidentally’ forgotten to include my name among the guests.
“Oh no!” Sophia interrupts us. “The place cards are wrong! I had the arrangement prepared yesterday, but the Baron Reinhard von Hofmannsthal did us the honour of accepting our invitation at the very last minute. He came from Nuremberg specially!” So saying, she takes the card that reads ‘Duke of Burlingham, Lord Ashford Parker’ and replaces it with that of the baron.
“Where will Ashford and I sit, then?” I ask, suspecting that Sophia wants to humiliate us and send us home like unwelcome guests.
“Here, my dear! I had to rearrange the seats quickly, but I thought it might be very inspiring for you to meet the baron! He’s an eminent guest. Ashford, you can sit there, between Lord Windham and me,” she says, resting her hand on Ashford’s arm again in a rather confidential way.
I look at the place card on my left, and it reads ‘Carter Willoughby’. Who the hell is Carter Willoughby? Great, I’m sitting between two perfect strangers! I mean, I don’t know all the guests, but I’ve seen the others at least once.
“Ashford could sit on this bloke’s seat!” I say, indicating Willoughby’s chair.
“Oh, Jemma! That’s impossible!” Sophia exclaims as though she had just heard a funny joke.
