“Apparently not. It does in the state drawing room, but not the family drawing room, and only one of the dining rooms. It doesn’t reach the library or the billiard room, either.”
This is one of the most bizarre conversations I’ve ever been part of. Half of it is completely everyday—what parent doesn’t need help with the Wi-Fi every now and then? But the other half, the part regarding stables and billiard rooms and more than one drawing and dining room, is so insane, I can hardly believe it’s serious.
“I’ll find him in a minute,” Tom says, with a long drawn-out sigh. “Oh, and, Mum, about tonight. There’s been a… development.”
“Yes?”
“Some sort of misunderstanding, really,” he begins uneasily, as I hide my smile, looking down at my feet. “We bumped into Annabel and Georgia.”
“At the market?”
“No, here. Outside.”
“They were here?” She looks surprised. “Why didn’t you invite them in?”
“They were only dropping by so they couldn’t stay long, but instead they’re going to come and say hello properly this evening. Over dinner.”
Lady Meade purses her lips. “You invited them for dinner.”
“In all honesty, I’m not really sure what happened,” Tom admits. “It was very fast and suddenly it was decided. Right, Emily?”
“Right,” I say in solidarity. “It was a whirlwind.”
“A whirlwind,” Tom repeats, nodding.
We fall silent, waiting for Lady Meade’s reaction. She smooths a nonexistent crinkle on her shirt, then lifts her chin, smiling graciously.
“How lovely,” she says. “I shall ask Nicholas to give Ned a call and confirm timings. In the meantime, I’d better make sure we have food to serve them.” She turns to me. “Come, let me show you your room and get you settled in.”
“I’ll go and sort the Wi-Fi,” Tom suggests.
“Yes, and, Thomas,” she says, “I’ll leave it up to you to let Cordelia know that the Earl and Countess of Derrington, as well as their daughters, are joining us this evening for dinner.” The color in Tom’s face drains. “This way, Emily.”
“Thanks again for the lift,” I say to Tom, taking my bag from him. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
As I follow Lady Meade, I can’t help but smile as I hear Tom mutter bitterly in reply, “If Cordelia hasn’t murdered me by then.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“There she is.” Lady Meade leans on the fence.
Her daughter is riding a striking gray horse in the distance, galloping across the field.
“Cordelia!” she yells, waving at her. “Cordelia! Over here!”
She hears the cry and spots us, turning the horse in our direction. As she gets closer, I’m surprised to see a smile on her face, not sickly or forced, a real one. She looks genuinely happy. Jonathan’s proposal story makes a lot of sense.
“She’s always loved horses,” Lady Meade explains, as though reading my mind. “She’s much more comfortable around animals than people. I think she got that from me.”
Cordelia slows and trots over, slightly breathless, strands of hair loosely falling from under her riding hat, her skin glowing from the exercise.
“We’ve been looking for you,” her mother says, stepping up onto the lower rung of the fence to lean over and pat the neck of the horse, her expression softening, crinkles appearing around her eyes as she smiles broadly. “Hello, darling.”
She’s speaking in a much more affectionate tone to the horse than I’ve heard her use with anyone else, including her children.
“I told you I was going out,” Cordelia says, swinging her leg over and jumping down from the saddle with elegance and ease. “I see you made it, Emily.” She sounds impressed.
“She got an earlier train.”
