Authors: Georgia Fallon
‘Good morning, Miss Weston. This is Angela, Mr Delacroix’s personal assistant, he has asked me to call you.’
‘
Oh, hello. Is there a problem?’ Lucy asked, worried that perhaps Marcus was not going to be back in time for the wedding.
‘
No, not at all,’ Angela assured her. ‘It’s just that the Albany Gallery have delivered the painting, a wedding gift for your father I understand, here to the office. We need to decide what would be the best thing to do with it. Given its size, Mr Delacroix doesn’t think it would be wise to take it to the wedding with you. He has suggested that it be delivered to your father’s home this week.’
‘
Yes, that sounds like a good idea. Sarah will be at home all week so there should be someone there to take it in. I’ll give you the address.’
‘
Don’t worry I have it on file,’ said the secretary. ‘It will be Saule who takes it, so it could be in the evening if that’s easier.’
‘
That would probably be better, and then Dad will be there too. Shall we say tomorrow evening? I’ll check with them and if there’s a problem I can get back to you.’
‘
That’s fine. Mr Delacroix also asked if you would be free to have dinner with him on Thursday evening at his house. He suggests you may like to stay the night, so you can both leave from there the next day for the wedding.’
Lucy could see the sense in that and readily agreed.
‘Of course you won’t want to have to take your wedding clothes to work with you, or your things for the weekend. Mr Delacroix asked me to remind you about going straight on to Graylings from the reception. So shall I have Saule pick you up in Finsbury at about seven-thirty?’
At the end of the call Lucy was left impressed with Angela’s efficiency and wondering what her dad and Sarah would make of the enormous Nigerian.
~
The flight from
Boston touched down exactly on time. The tall, attractive stewardess who wished Marcus a good evening as he disembarked was disappointed he had not provided her with anything to report to Martin Culver. He was quickly reunited with his luggage and through customs, one of the many advantages of travelling first class.
As he started up the Mercedes, Saule asked,
‘Good trip, Marcus?’
‘
Not bad at all. The meetings were very productive and I had a really good few days with Roger. We went out fishing on his boat. He asked to be remembered to you.’
Saule laughed.
‘Does he still drink a bottle of Scotch a night?’
‘
Yep, still the same old Roger! What about you, how did your two charges behave?’ Marcus asked.
‘
One much better than the other,’ growled Saule. ‘That damn cat is becoming a menace. Twice he disappeared for more than twenty-four hours. I’ve no idea where he was hiding, I hunted high and low for him. And he’s bitten Mrs McFee again, she’s threatening to leave.’
Marcus was entertained at the thought of the small feline giving Saule the run around. Saule was not. He continued,
‘On the other hand, Miss Weston, or Lucy as I have now been instructed to call her, was no trouble. She spent most of the time at her workshop. She had a few visitors there, her father, Mrs Diana Featherstone and Mrs Lydia Fanshawe.’
Marcus’s eyebrows went up at the last of these names.
Saule went on, ‘She only went out once in the evening, for a drink with her friend Amy and her boyfriend.’
Marcus nodded with satisfaction, but a frown creased his brow when Saul added,
‘There was however an incident Friday night when I had to intervene.’
~
She found Marcus sitting on the terrace reading through some papers. Smiling he stood up and kissed her lightly, as ever, on the lips.
‘
Hello, Lucy. Sit yourself down. I’ll get you a drink and then I must just finish reading this report.’
As she sat sipping her wine Lucy watched him as he concentrated on the pages of the document and thought how well he looked, more relaxed somehow than usual. Without knowing she was going to, she found herself asking him,
‘Do I bore you, Marcus?’
He looked up and misunderstanding her meaning replied,
‘Sorry, Lucy, but I do have to check through this so it can be sent out tomorrow. I won’t be long.’
‘
No, that’s not what I meant. Do I bore you in general?’
‘
Of course you don’t. What is this all about?’
‘
I had a visit from Lydia Fanshawe last week.’
‘
Ah,’ Marcus said knowingly. ‘And?’
‘
And she was a bitch. I’m afraid I ended up telling her we were at it like rabbits in preparation for having loads of children’
‘
Lucy!’
‘
Sorry, but I was provoked,’ she told him defiantly.
Closing the file in front of him Marcus said,
‘I think you’d better tell me all about it, don’t you?’
Lucy recounted her conversation with
Lydia word for word, her voice becoming more and more indignant as she went along. Marcus listened in silence, doing his best to remain grave.
As she finished she looked at him and said accusingly,
‘It’s not funny, you know!’
‘
No, of course not, and I agree you were provoked. So, let me set the record straight. I did not tell her that you made trinkets, I am not having a mid- life crisis, she does not know me well and I cannot imagine ever tiring of your girlish charms.’
He smiled at her, the look in his emerald green eyes was warm and Lucy felt the colour rise in her cheeks.
‘Oh! Really?’ she asked.
‘
Really,’ he assured her. ‘And what’s more, the next time I see Mrs Fanshawe with the pointy little nose, I shall tell her so.’
Lucy giggled.
‘Did you like the bit about Pandora’s Box?’
‘
Yes, very witty, now may I finish reading this report?’
Later, as they sat over coffee and Lucy was telling Marcus how thrilled both Kit and Sarah were with the painting, Silk put in an appearance and Lucy tried again to make friends with him but to no avail. He circled them for a few moments keeping well out of reach, his long thin tail twitching crossly. Then, knowing full well it wasn’t allowed, he jumped up on the kitchen worktop and sat staring at them malevolently.
Marcus looked at him and shook his head. ‘Just ignore him, he’s only showing off. He’s in disgrace already. He has attacked my housekeeper’s ankles yet again. Every time he does it I have to put her wages up, she’ll soon be earning more than I do.’
Lucy laughed.
‘He sounds positively dangerous!’
‘
He likes to think so. But Lucy, on the subject of danger, Saule told me about the incident on the tube.’
‘
I rather thought he might,’ she said. ‘I don’t think they meant any real harm but it was a bit scary and I was certainly glad to see Saule. He’d been visiting friends, apparently.’
Ignoring her inference that this may have not been the case, he told her,
‘I don’t want you travelling alone late at night. I think it’s time we got you a car.’
‘
Oh Marcus, it’s really not worth it. There’s nowhere to park in Camden or at Amy’s either. I’d just end up having to walk miles from where I’d left it.’
‘
In that case, Saule must come and collect you if you’re going to be late,’ said Marcus firmly.
Lucy who had never been keen on being told what she must do objected strongly,
‘That’s like having your mum pick you up from the school gates. I’m not a child, Marcus!’
‘
Then don’t behave like one,’ he snapped. ‘Most people would consider having a chauffeur driven car at their disposal to be rather an advantage, not something to kick up about.’
She was about to bite back but then grinning she asked instead,
‘Marcus, are we having our first row?’
Straight faced, he replied calmly,
‘No, I am expressing concern about your safety and you are being unreasonable.’
Lucy laughed.
‘Ah, I hadn’t read the rules. I didn’t know I had to be reasonable.’
This time he smiled back.
‘The company has accounts with several taxi firms. If I have your name put on the lists will you at least promise to use one of them in the future?’
Lucy relented.
‘Now that would be very useful, thank you. It shouldn’t really happen again though, I just lost track of the time the other night.’
Getting up, Marcus told her,
‘Well feel free to use them any time you want. You saying about losing track of time reminds me, I bought you something while I was in New York.’
He crossed to where his briefcase sat on the floor, passing Silk who took a swipe at him but missed. He handed Lucy a small oblong case and her eyes widened
when she saw on it the legend Tiffany’s of New York. It contained a slender gold wristwatch, beautifully understated in its design.
She gasped,
‘Marcus, it’s really lovely. Thank you so much!’
Fastening it around her wrist, he told her,
‘I’m glad you like it. I noticed you had stopped wearing your rather old looking one and thought perhaps it was broken.’
~
The bedroom was elegant, the eau de nil of the carpet echoed in the swags and tails of the curtains and the upholstered canopy above the bed. Again it was evident that she had been given the room which had been Helena’s and that she had not shared it with her husband.
As she lay
in bed Lucy pondered the complexities of the man presumably asleep by now in his room at the other end of the house. The man from whom she had literally to squeeze any drop of information and to whom, after nearly six weeks, she didn’t seem to have got any closer. He could be high-handed and dictatorial in his treatment of her, expecting her to always fit in with him. And yet he seemed concerned about her, was prepared to take her part against an old friend and had taken the time during a business trip to choose her a beautiful gift. A gift of something he had noticed she needed. And surely he found her attractive after how he had spoken, with that certain look in his eyes, of not tiring of her charms? Yet here she was in this big bed, alone again. She realised that they had come together in rather a strange way, that it wasn’t a love affair, but even so, she had been beginning to think there was at least a little spark between them.
Just as she was dozing off, she heard a faint scratching at the door and opening it found Silk sitting there. His expression was so obviously one of disappointment that Lucy said out loud,
‘Oh Silk, I’m sorry, did you think your mistress was back?’
The cat blinked at her several times, gave what seemed like rather a sad little mew, and wandered off along the landing. Watching him go Lucy wondered if that was the answer. Did Marcus find, like Silk, that she simply didn’t measure up to
Helena?
Standing on the bank of the river Medway, the imposing Archbishop
’s Palace still displays many of its original architectural features dating from the fourteenth century. Today it is the home of the Kent Register Office for civil marriages and public records. With its towering walls of mellow stone, mullion windows and the beautifully tended Apothecary’s Garden it makes the perfect setting for a wedding.
So said the town’s tourist blurb and none of the guests gathered there waiting for the bride to arrive would have disagreed.
Maidstone was Sarah’s hometown and she had wanted to come back to marry. She would have preferred a church wedding with bridesmaids, a choir and the pealing of the bells but Kit’s marital history ruled that out. The Archbishop’s Palace was the next best thing and a strict dress code had been issued; everyone in their finest as if it were a church ceremony, morning suits for the men, hats for the women and there would be buttonholes for everyone at the door. The wedding car was a vintage Rolls and, with a reception for one hundred and twenty guests at the best hotel in town, Sarah was having her big day. There had been only one economy. With so many of Kit’s fellow photographers present, it had been deemed unnecessary to hire another.
A steady stream of guests was arriving from all directions, pausing to exchange greetings with friends and family. Silks and satins rustled, wide brimmed hats fluttered in the gentle breeze and gloved hands reached out to straighten their men-folk’s ties. The atmosphere was happy and expectant as befitted the occasion. As Lucy and Marcus made their way over to where Kit stood
, looking relaxed and cheerful as he talked to Amelia and James, she recognised a number of his old friends. For most of them it was the fourth time they had supported her father on his wedding day.
As the two men shook hands, Kit told Marcus,
‘Good to meet you, Marcus. I know Sarah will want to do the same later but I must thank you for the wonderful painting.’
Nodding, Marcus replied,
‘Lucy chose well for you. Lattimer’s career is really taking off so it should be a good investment as well as a pretty piece.’
Turning to Amelia, stunning in a bold black and white outfit, he told her warmly,
‘How nice to see you again, Amelia, it’s been a long time.’
Then, as is if guessing she wasn’t convinced he really remembered her, he added,
‘I remember how you always wore your hair in that lovely long plait. When Lucy does the same she looks very like you. Do you still paint your toenails all different colours?’
Amelia laughed, blushing just a little, and Lucy was amused to see how pleased and flattered she was. She would have been even more entertained had she known that her mother was wondering if perhaps she had led too virtuous a life at university.
Ellen, and Catherine accompanied by the irrepressible Rex, pulled into the car park at the same time. As they kissed the air to the side of each other’s cheeks Catherine asked, with more civility than interest, ‘How are you, Ellen, still jetting around the world?’
The model, dressed in a simple but exquisitely cut dress and coat in the exact shade of her honey coloured hair which hung in a silken sheet to her shoulders, smiled sweetly.
‘I’m keeping busy, yes. You look well, Catherine. Lovely suit!’
Knowing that, for once, she had managed to find an outfit that disguised rather than accentuated her less than perfect figure Catherine was confident she was not being mocked. She unbent a little.
‘Thanks, you look beautiful as always. Well, we’d better find the others. Rex, have you got the present?’
The two women walked together with a single thought.
She’s looking older.
Lucy watched
the arrival of her two ex-stepmothers with some trepidation. There was much hugging and kissing amongst their expanding group, and then came the time to introduce Marcus.
He couldn’t remember when he had last come under such close
inspection.
Holding Ellen’s perfectly manicured hand, he told her,
‘May I say you are even more beautiful than in your photos?’
‘
This is true,’ she purred. ‘And you may say it as often as you wish.’
Don’t think you can charm me that easily thought Catherine as he turned to greet her.
‘I really admire what you’ve done with your magazine, Catherine. It’s gone from being lightweight to indispensable reading.’
He’d aimed, as he well knew, at just the right spot. The magazine was Catherine’s baby and like any mother she loved to hear it praised, particularly by someone of Delacroix’s intellect. She had a pleased smile as she shook the hand of the enemy.
Lucy was relieved. It was going well so far. Just then, the word went round that Sarah had arrived and everyone made their way to the front entrance. Stepping from the car, she lent credence to the saying that every bride is beautiful on her wedding day. Dressed in a full-length gown of oyster silk with an Edwardian influence, her fair curls swept up high and threaded with strings of tiny seed pearls, she looked radiant. She appeared nervous until she saw Kit coming to claim her; well, you could never know for sure, could you?
The civil ceremony was brief but conducted with respectful solemnity. Lucy and Sarah’s brother Tom acted as witnesses, the bride and groom made their responses in clear steady voices and Kit had remembered the ring. The announcement that they were now man and wife was met with an enthusiastic round of applause.
Back out in the warm sunshine of the gardens Ellen sidled up to Lucy and whispered in her ear, ‘Lucy, he is divine! I just love the tall, handsome, masterful type. Is the sex wonderful?’
‘
I don’t know,’ Lucy whispered back. ‘There hasn’t been any yet!’ She had to smile at the look of utter amazement on Ellen’s face. ‘I’d shut your mouth Ellen, it’s not good for the image standing there looking like a goldfish.’
Ellen recovered herself but said in a puzzled tone,
‘Lucy, it’s been six weeks, what’s going on?’
‘
You tell me, you’re the expert on men.’
Looking over at Marcus, Ellen replied,
‘I can tell a gay man at twenty paces, I’m never wrong. He’s definitely not batting for the other side.’
‘
That’s what I think, and Amy too.’
‘
Impotent?’ Ellen suggested.
‘
Oh God, I hadn’t thought of that!’ wailed Lucy.
‘
Have you tried making the first move?’
‘
That’s easier said than done.’
Looking at Ellen’s raised eyebrows, Lucy went on,
‘Well, for me it is anyway. And there’s something, well, a bit daunting about him.’
Ellen was growing more perplexed about the exact nature of this relationship. When a group of other guests moved to within earshot she told Lucy,
‘Lets meet up in the week and we can have a proper talk. Anyway, that’s enough about you, let’s talk about me. Who’s the attractive blonde guy talking to Sarah’s father?’
Squinting in the late afternoon sun Lucy followed Ellen’s gaze.
‘I’m pretty sure he’s a cousin of Sarah’s. If he’s the one I’m thinking of he’s a venture capitalist for the Japanese bank whose name sounds like a wallpaper.’
‘
Perfect!’ cooed Ellen. ‘I think I’ll just shimmy over and introduce myself. See you later.’
Lucy watched as she walked, the way only a model can, towards her unsuspecting target and then she stood quietly taking in the general scene.
Marcus appeared at her side.
‘
Taking notes for our own wedding, Lucy?’ he asked with a smile. ‘I think it too needs to be a civil ceremony, don’t you?’
Biting back the retort that perhaps he should be thinking about kissing her properly for the first time before planning their nuptials, she asked instead,
‘Is this a proposal, Mr Delacroix?’
‘
Well, Miss Weston, I rather thought I’d already made one of those, but I could go down on one knee here and now if you like.’
He smiled at the look of horror on her face.
‘Don’t worry, Lucy, that’s not quite my style. I do think it’s maybe time though that we had a talk about the future.’
Both Sarah’s brothers were bearing down on them trying to organise people for the photos so she was spared having to make a reply.
The happy couple and their guests were grouped, regrouped and grouped again to allow everyone with a camera to record the moment. Amongst the battery of photographers, professional and amateur, no one noticed the brief presence of an uninvited one.
~
The wedding breakfast had been delicious, the speeches entertaining and not too long, toasts had been proposed and the cake cut. Ellen had deftly changed the table plan so that she sat next to Simon, the object of her desire for the day, and he had the look of a man who couldn’t quite believe his luck. Now there was a brief lull as the tables were cleared and the band set up. The big doors out onto the hotel’s lawns stood open and as the sun started to go down the guests stood about in groups chatting and laughing.
Standing with Marcus and Catherine, Kit said,
‘I hear congratulations are in order for you too, Marcus. The knighthood I mean.’
Marcus smiled.
‘Thank you but it’s early days yet, these things can come to nothing.’
‘
Yes, but you must be feeling pretty confident about it.’
Before Marcus could respond Catherine, who after several glasses of
Champagne and wine was feeling bullish, jumped in with, ‘Perhaps this would be a good time to break your usual silence and talk to the press. An in-depth profile in the right publication could do you some good.’
‘
Catherine!’ said Kit in a warning tone. ‘You will have to excuse my dear ex-wife, Marcus, she’s not one to let an opportunity slip past.’
Marcus was unperturbed.
‘Actually I think she may be right. I’ve been thinking along those lines myself.’ He turned to Catherine with a wry smile. ‘And, of course, yours would be my preferred publication.’
The eyes of the editor glinted at the thought of such a scoop, but she couldn’t resist telling him,
‘Just because you are seeing Lucy it wouldn’t mean we’d give you an easy ride, you know. It would have to be warts and all.’
His eyes met hers with a steady gaze.
‘Oh I don’t have anything to hide.’
Catherine didn’t look away, or even blink. She did say to herself, this man has more front than
Brighton!
~
‘Well, what do you make of him?’ Amelia asked her husband.
‘
Marcus you mean?’ asked James trying to rub a dollop of pavlova off his tie. ‘Seems like a nice chap to me.’
‘
He could certainly charm the birds out of the trees,’ she agreed. ‘It just seems odd seeing Lucy with someone of our age.’
‘
It happens all the time though doesn’t it, young women with much older men? Perhaps it’s a father figure thing. I think Lucy wants someone to look after her despite her independent streak. He’s certainly well placed to do that.’
‘
Lucy is perfectly capable of looking after herself,’ retorted Amelia. ‘Her problem is that like her father she doesn’t want to have to grow up!’
Usually quick to agree and placate his wife, Amelia was surprised when James told her firmly,
‘Well, whatever her reasons, I think you’d better start getting used to the idea of her and Marcus because it’s got the look of something that’s going to run and run.’
~
Simon Randall was having a lovely time. He hadn’t really wanted to come to the wedding, he liked Sarah well enough but found family gatherings a bit tedious and would have preferred to have been playing cricket. His mother, the sister of Sarah’s mother, had nagged him until he gave in and now he was extremely pleased he had. At thirty-four, with his fair good looks, easygoing ways and sizeable disposable income he was never short of female company, but had never met anyone quite like Ellen. She took his breath away.
He had dated plenty of pretty girls but had never known one who truly merited the accolade of beautiful and he found it hard not to stare. When he apologised for doing so she simply said, without a shred of conceit,
‘That’s alright, I’m used to it.’
When he asked her what she did for a living she had told him she worked in fashion. It was his sister, coming over when Ellen was off powdering her nose, who told him he w
as canoodling with the “Super Model”, Ellen Rose. But it wasn’t just her looks that attracted him. She had a sweet playful way about her, but it was also obvious she was a woman who went after what she wanted. She had made no attempt to hide the fact that she was trying to pick him up and he was more than happy to let her.
As they strolled across the lawns he was curious enough to ask,
‘How long has Lucy been seeing Marcus Delacroix?’