“I witnessed the conversation and I’m not sure you had any choice.”
“Still. She’s going tokillme.”
While he mutters something inaudible, I stare in wonder at the breathtaking entrance hall before me. A patterned floor stretches beneath a soaring domed ceiling, framed by towering columns. Marble busts sit to either side of the vast set of stairs ahead.
“Wow,” I whisper into the silence, a shiver running down my spine. “It’s incredible.”
“Yeah,” Tom says, coming to stand next to me. “It’s not bad.”
“That’s an understatement,” I murmur, gazing up at the ceiling. In such a grand place, I automatically feel as though I should keep my voice down in respect. “It’s so beautiful. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live somewhere like this.”
“Hasn’t Cordelia told you anything about the house?” He smiles knowingly when I shake my head. “Makes sense. She’s embarrassed by it.”
“Embarrassed?” I stare at him in disbelief. “Bythis? If I lived here, I wouldn’t shut up about it. And I’ve only seen the hallway. How many rooms are there?”
He laughs. “A few.”
“A few hundred?”
“Something like that.” He breathes in deeply, glancing around us. “It is beautiful, but it’s a different world. Parts of it are like a museum. The best bits are the smaller, homely rooms.”
“Oh, yes, your private wing.”
“Not justmine,” he corrects, with a sly smile.
“Did you ever knock over a priceless bust or anything when you were little and running around?” I ask. “My mum was furious when I was playing in the house and knocked over a vase. Here, it must be even worse when something like that happens.”
“I never knocked over a bust,” he says, before lowering his voice, “but I did once scribble with biro on the corner of a portrait by Thomas Gainsborough. I wanted to see if biro worked on an old canvas.”
“And did it?”
He grimaces. “I feel very guilty about that one.”
“Did you get caught?”
“Actually, no.” He hesitates, looking at me strangely. “I’ve never told anyone that story, except Cordelia. I swore her to secrecy.”
“My lips are sealed.” I lean in toward him. “Can you still see the biro on the painting?”
He closes his eyes, then nods slowly and shamefully.
“Tom? Is that you?” A voice echoes around the walls, making us both jump. Lady Meade appears at the top of the stairs. “Emily!”
Tom gestures for me to go up while he grabs the bags. Disappointed that the plan to sneak in and sort out my appearance before seeing the rest of the family has gone downhill, I tuck my hair behind my ears and step lightly up the stairs, terrified of leaving dirt on the plush red carpet running down the center.
“Cordelia didn’t tell me you’d arrived,” she says, greeting me at the top of the steps.
She’s in a more relaxed outfit than I’m used to seeing her in—navy trousers and a white shirt with a cashmere cardigan and a long blue bead necklace draped round her neck—and her hair is loose, falling neatly to her shoulders. Something about her airis a little more at ease, too. She’s much more at home here than she is in London.
“I found her wandering from the train station,” Tom reveals.
“I see.”
“I got an earlier train. I should have let someone know but I wasn’t thinking and then there was no phone signal.” I gesture around the hall. “Dashwell is absolutely beautiful, Lady Meade.”
“Thank you. We must give you a tour and, at the same time, run through all the points of the wedding. But,” she says, with a polite smile, “it’s been a long journey, I imagine. I’ll show you to your room and you can freshen up before you get stuck in. Tom, your father is looking for you. He needs some help with the Wi-Fi. It’s not working. He would ask Bill to help him, but he’s down by the stables. One of the donkeys broke through a fence and he’s fixing it.”
Tom lifts his eyes to the ceiling. “The Wi-Fi is working perfectly, Mum.”
