I summoned a gracious smile and sat. Hugo took the liberty of unfolding my napkin and placing it on my knees. Normally I’d have slapped his porky hands away, but I was too distracted watching Francesca touching Jeremy’s arm and giggling. I bunched the napkin in my fists.
When the din died down, Jasper turned his attention to Francesca —Jeremy’s guest of honour,as he called her. He quizzed her about her background, university life, and plans for the future. Jane squeezed his arm and stage-whispered, “It’s not a job interview, darling.”
Francesca politely smiled and performed beautifully, not only answering Jasper’s many questions, but embellishing her answers with stories and earning genuine laughter from the Daltons and the Beaumonts. All the while, Jeremy looked at her like an eager puppy, ready to roll over on command. His pride was palpable — he’d brought home this bright young thing. Jeremy and Francesca were of the same calibre; they were in the same league —how could I compete?
A mishmash of food was passed around the table: vol-au-vents, quiches, mini prawn cocktails, stuffed potato skins — Jane’s attempt to be on-trend seemed to have delighted the other guests but turned my stomach. I picked out a couple of items and prodded at them with my fork, while my mind chewed over everything with Francesca and Jeremy, and whether it would be too needy and desperate to ask her to be clearer aboutus, about what I was to her. Or should I just try to relax and go with the flow? I’d been accused of being uptight before now; I didn’t want to scare her off by pushing too hard.
“Penny for them,” Hugo said, leaning into me more than was necessary.
I jolted back to myself and lifted my eyes, momentarily feeling sorry for him. None of this was his fault. “Sorry, I just feel a bit?—”
He placed a hand on my back.
“If I may…” He inhaled as if preparing to say something profound, then leaned over, speared the vol-au-vent on my plate, and popped it into his mouth whole.
Too much; it was all too much. I needed some spacebecause my thoughts were as tangled as my limbs had been with Francesca’s just a few days ago. I whipped the napkin from my lap and stood. My chair scraped across the parquet floor, and every head turned to look at me.
“Sorry,” I said, my voice sounding breathy and pathetic. “I?—”
“Everything alright, Catherine?” Jasper’s brow furrowed.
I glanced around at the questioning faces, my eyes settling on Francesca, who stared back, one eyebrow arched in cool appraisal.
Dad touched my hand. “What’s up, love?”
I looked down at him and mustered a smile. “I’m fine. I just need some air.”
“Shall I come with you?”
“No, stay and have fun.”
Dad nodded, and I paced out of the room with their conversation following me.
“What did you do, Hugo?” asked Jeremy.
“Nothing! Well, I ate her vol-au-vent, but she wasn’t eating it, so…”
A burst of laughter chased me down the hall.
By the time I’d reached the front door, tears were tracking down my cheeks. I felt ridiculous, particularly because Francesca had kissed me before dinner. She told me that she still wanted me, that she was going to have me. That should have settled the churning in my stomach. But it hadn’t.
I stepped out into the freezing night air and wrapped my shivering arms around myself.Shit.I’d forgotten mycoat, and the door had locked behind me. I couldn’t ring the bell; I felt stupid enough already.
As I charged along the track with my head down, sleet began to fall — wet, icy and soaking my thin blouse. I rolled my eyes to the sky as if there were some malevolent force at work doing this to spite me. By the time I’d reached the cottage, my shirt was wet through, and my hands shook as I tried to unlock the door with the spare key in the porch.
“Why did you leave like that?”
“Fuckin’ hell,” I screamed and dropped the keys.
Francesca puffed out a laugh behind me. I didn’t look around because I didn’t want her to see me like this — no doubt looking as pathetic as I felt. I picked up the key, but my hands were shaking so much I couldn’t get it in the lock. I wanted to scream.
“Here, let me.” She took the key from me, opened the door, and invited herself in. The warmth of the cottage enveloped me like a hug. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom to dry my wet hair and returned to see Francesca glancing around. The space was humble compared to the manor house, but it was cosy and warm, and it was home.
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s like a little hobbit house.”
“It’s a cottage,” I said flatly. “Why did you come after me?”
Francesca narrowed her eyes. “Why did you leave?”
