The Christmas Invitation

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Well,’ said Tottie thoughtfully, ‘what happens now? Would Meg’s mother, if she’s still alive, be the rightful heir, or Meg, if not?’

  ‘Since I’m the daughter of a bigamous marriage, I think she must be,’ said Sybil.

  ‘So Underhill might not be mine after all?’ Mark said, looking stricken.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Clara said. ‘When Henry and I talked it over last night, after I’d read Nessa’s letter, it seemed to us to depend on the terms of George’s will.’

  ‘But I don’t want to claim Underhill, or any part of your inheritance, Mark!’ I burst out. ‘And nor will Mum.’

  ‘Just as well,’ said Henry, ‘because George’s will was very carefully written; I remember thinking so at the time: he named exactly who was to inherit. And Underhill wasn’t entailed, so he could leave it to whoever he wanted. I think Meg or her mother probably could have a strong claim to some money from the estate if they went to court, but I’m sure it won’t come to that.’

  ‘No, absolutely not,’ I declared. ‘In fact, when Mum comes back and I explain all this to her, she’ll hardly take in the facts. She only lives in the moment and this story all belongs to the past.’

  ‘But what are we going to do?’ said Mark.

  ‘Keep it in the family,’ I said firmly, ‘and carry on as if that misguided marriage between George and Nessa never took place.’

  ‘I think that’s the only sensible way forward,’ River agreed, speaking for the first time. ‘Nothing need change: Meg has already become a part of your family.’

  ‘Clara and I thought that was the easiest solution, too,’ said Henry. ‘And Mark needn’t think he isn’t entitled to the estate, because his grandfather very obviously intended him to inherit it.’

  ‘Piers might tell people, though, in a fit of pique,’ suggested Tottie.

  ‘I doubt it. There’s the blackmail angle, for one thing,’ said Henry. ‘And who would he tell? I doubt he has any real friends left, and no passing acquaintance at his club is going to take any notice of his stories. Or not to the extent of searching the wedding registers, at any rate.’

  ‘And since we can arrange it among the family, it’s nothing to do with anyone else,’ agreed Clara.

  ‘I still don’t feel that it’s right that—’ Mark began, looking pale and stubborn.

  ‘Just think of all those complicated noble families over the years, leaving property to their illegitimate, as well as legitimate offspring,’ Henry said.

  ‘And perhaps Meg will marry into the family, anyway,’ Zelda said brightly. ‘What do you think, Lex?’

  ‘Now, Zelda, don’t tease your brother,’ Clara said absently, as I went scarlet under the interested gaze of several pairs of eyes. ‘We have to decide now how to handle things at the party – or handle Piers. At this point, we can’t really ban him from coming.’

  ‘And I can’t hit him, because he’s too old,’ Mark said, with one of his familiar dark scowls.

  ‘You’d better leave it to me,’ Henry told him. ‘I’ll remove him for a quiet conversation, after which he’ll no longer be welcome in this house, or to contact any member of my family.’

  Sybil was wearing the sort of expression you see on the faces of people getting off a rollercoaster, though tinged with faint hope.

  ‘There,’ Clara said. ‘That was just like the denouement at the end of a Poirot novel, wasn’t it? Do we all feel better for our complete catharsis?’

  ‘I feel like getting into a hole and never coming out,’ said poor Sybil. ‘I don’t know how I can ever look any of you in the face again, especially Meg.’

  I found myself assuring her that all was forgotten and forgiven and, in fact, that I really didn’t mind her having tried to kill me in the least …

  River moved to sit next to her on the sofa. ‘Meg is quite right: you were momentarily unhinged, after all the stress of the burden you’d been carrying alone. You must be quite exhausted.’ Then he suggested that when he returned to the Farm, she go with him for a short visit.

  ‘A change of scene will do you good and you’ll receive a very warm welcome,’ he added.

  ‘Good idea,’ Tottie endorsed, from Sybil’s other side.

  ‘I hope you’ll visit us too, in the spring, Tottie,’ River said. ‘Perhaps you and Sybil could come then together.’

  ‘How nice it is to have no more mysteries and misunderstandings,’ Clara said cheerfully with one of her widest and most Cheshire Cat smiles. ‘Now we can just get back to enjoying Christmas!’

  The hour of the Boxing Day drinks party approached, and Den and Teddy already had the preparations well in hand: the long table in the hall had been spread with a white cloth and laden with glasses, jugs of orange juice and bottles of elderflower champagne, chilling in a galvanized pail full of ice.

  The gate-leg table in the drawing room would bear the paper napkins, plates and platters of cold nibbles, and Den assured us that the hot ones were ready to pop into the oven, once everyone had arrived.

  ‘Teddy’s the waiter; ’e’ll ’elp carry them round.’

  There was just time to tidy ourselves up, attempt to slip back into our right minds, and assume an appropriate expression, before the first of the guests arrived.

  By eleven fifteen the rooms were quite full. There had to be even more people there than had made it to the Gathering. The drive and the snowy road verges were lined with vehicles, ranging from tractors to Land Rovers and the battered open-top truck that belonged to Olive Adcock’s husband.

  There were all the farmers from up the valley and their families, a handful of elderly residents from the village that I hadn’t seen before, Bilbo, Flower and the baby, Len Snowball and the Gidneys …

  I didn’t see Flora and her entourage arrive and I was circulating Den’s hot ‘volley-vaunts’ among the throng in the hall, when Lex told me that Rollo, with prompting from Flora, was in the drawing room sucking up to Henry and doing what he called ‘a misunderstood young poetic genius’ act.

  ‘I know that one, but he’s a little too old to carry the role now,’ I said. ‘Where’s Piers?’

  ‘He was trying to get near Sybil, but Henry took him into his study and when they came out, Piers looked pretty sick. I should think he’s gone to find a dark corner to lurk in till it’s time to go.’

  After a while, Henry asked everyone to gather together. Those who couldn’t fit in the drawing room crowded round the open door while he raised a toast to Christmas and to old friends, which seemed to mark the official end of the party, because people began to leave.

  Clara had been taking her guests into the studio in relays to admire the portraits, and eventually that’s where Lex found me, contemplating his picture.

  ‘I thought you might be in here. Have you had enough of people?’ he asked anxiously. ‘It’s been one hell of a day and we’re not even halfway through it yet!’

  ‘I’m all right, though I’m not sure I’ve really taken it all in. But I hope I’ve put Mark’s mind at rest, so that everything carries on exactly like it did before.’

  ‘I think Zelda took him into the library earlier and talked some sense into him.’ He looked with critical appreciation at his portrait. ‘You’ve certainly caught me … and I could give you a long sitting tomorrow, if you like?’

  ‘Great,’ I said, my spirits lightening. ‘I hated leaving it even for one day, but there hasn’t been a moment till now, and I feel totally wrung out and exhausted. I suppose I should be helping clear up.’

  ‘No, Sybil’s expiating her sins in a frenzy of helpfulness, with River and Tottie.’

  Someone must have released Pansy from her incarceration in the kitchen, for now she nosed the door open and ran in. I picked her up, somehow soothed and comforted by her warm little body in my arms.

  Lex took hold of my shoulders and looked down very seriously at me over her head. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’re happy to just let go any claim on Underhill, or your real place in the family
?’

  ‘Yes, totally,’ I assured him. ‘I’d like us all to forget that marriage certificate ever existed. It was all a mistake anyway.’

  ‘You’re a very sweet and kind person, Meg Harkness,’ he said, and after kissing me lightly, let me go and went out of the room.

  I escaped upstairs without seeing anyone else and fell asleep on the bed with Pansy, the ultimate comfort blanket.

  When I woke up I felt much better: it was as if the past I’d been told about had been just a play I’d seen, and nothing to do with me. The curtain had fallen and now we could carry on with our lives … wherever they took us.

  Mine would presumably be in a little cottage somewhere and I’d only see Lex when I visited the Red House: Clara wasn’t likely to let me escape the family orbit now that she’d found me.

  I discovered I was hungry and we went down to find everyone except Zelda and Mark in the drawing room, drinking tea and consuming leftover canapés.

  ‘There you are, dear,’ said Clara. ‘Lex, Henry and Teddy took Wisty and Lass out for a run earlier, before it got dark, but we thought Pansy must be with you.’

  ‘We were both asleep,’ I said, taking my cup and helping myself to a cheese and tomato tartlet and an Eggwina.

  ‘It’s starting to thaw in earnest,’ said Henry. ‘I’m sure the road to Thorstane will be open again tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re not leaving yet, though, are you?’ Teddy asked me with flattering concern.

  ‘No, I’ve got Lex’s portrait to finish first.’

  ‘And there’s no rush anyway,’ said Lex, moving over to sit beside me on the sofa.

  ‘Zelda’s gone back with Mark. She thought it would be a good idea not to leave him alone tonight, since everything’s been a bit of a shock to him. She’s a dear girl,’ said Sybil. ‘She says Mark has given up the hotel idea and they’re redecorating my old bedroom for when I return.’

  If, as seemed likely, Zelda was staying at Underhill overnight, I hoped she liked ham …

  ‘Piers will go scuttling off back to London as fast as he can,’ Henry said. ‘He didn’t know what to do with himself when I told him we knew what he’d been doing and threatened to inform the police if he ever bothered any of us again.’

  ‘There,’ said River to Sybil, with one of his tranquil smiles. ‘It’s all turned out very well.’

  It wasn’t quite ended yet, but there was a sense of a journey undertaken and successfully accomplished.

  ‘I love a party, but how nice it is to be just us again!’ Clara’s happy gaze encompassed family, visiting pagan, would-be murderess and Den, who was eating three cheese straws at once, while assisting Teddy to construct a 3-D triceratops out of slotted wooden pieces.

  ‘A little more work on my memoirs before dinner, I think,’ she added.

  ‘And I,’ said Henry resolutely, ‘will press the button marked “Send” and dispatch my book to my agent as a slightly late Christmas present.’

  Life at the Red House had begun to return to its familiar pattern.

  Later, Lex helped Teddy set up his easel in the studio, where he laid out his new paints and embarked on his first portrait on canvas. I was the sitter on the dais this time, which was a novelty.

  Lex stayed, sitting in one of the battered armchairs and watching proceedings, with Pansy curled on his knees.

  Teddy seemed to have turned into an even quicker painter than I was and had just told me that he’d finished when I heard the phone ring, and Clara’s voice from the study next door, so she must have picked it up. Then, a few moments later, while I was admiring my likeness (very pink hair, slightly green face), it rang again and this time she came to fetch me.

  ‘Meg, it’s a call for you. Do take it in my study.’

  ‘For me?’ I asked, following her. ‘I suppose I’ve left my phone turned off again and Oshan or someone from the Farm is trying to get hold of me. I hope nothing’s happened.’

  ‘I’m sure it hasn’t, darling, or they’d have asked for River,’ she said. ‘There’s the phone, on the desk.’

  ‘Oshan?’ I said, picking it up.

  ‘Is that you, Meg?’ said a faint and faraway sweet voice that was instantly familiar and most definitely not Oshan’s.

  ‘Mum?’ I exclaimed incredulously and out of the corner of my eye saw the door close behind Clara.

  Clara

  Late on Christmas Day, I was given a letter sent from America by Nessa’s former lover, Suzanne Dell, which was to throw a new light on past events.

  She had found among Nessa’s papers an envelope to be forwarded to me in the event of her death. Of course, she hadn’t been able to resist opening it and then, fired by jealousy induced by the first paragraph, suppressed it. But now, with only weeks to live herself, she had finally sent it on. I will present it here in full.

  Dear Clara,

  If you get this I will be dead, though I hope you will still be hale and hearty and enjoying life as much as ever. You will probably be horrified to learn that you were the love of my life, something I only realized long after my ghastly mistake with George.

  Making a clean break with the past was the best thing I could have done, and I have been happily settled with my lover, Suzanne Dell, since I met her at college after the move.

  I’m writing this letter, because I have something I want to share and you are the only person I feel I can tell.

  Cast your mind back to that weekend in London when George took advantage of me. I told you the truth about this incident, just not the whole of it.

  I was a naïve, romantic idiot and had convinced myself we were in love. But in fact, I was in love with the idea of love and in denial about my true sexuality.

  However, the moment we arrived in London he announced that he had arranged for us to be married at a registry office that morning! He gave me no time to think, but swept me off my feet and, before I knew it, I was coming out of some anonymous Victorian building as Mrs George Doome.

  But it was all some horrible mistake, as we discovered back at the flat. There was nothing loving about what happened then … and it was a moment of blinding revelation for me. My revulsion, along with the discovery on his part that I would not gain control over my capital for another ten years, led to a terrible scene.

  He said our marriage wasn’t legal anyway, since he’d lied about several things to get the licence – I was under age for a start – so we could just forget it had ever happened. This entirely suited me and I got in a taxi and went to Godmama’s house. Thank God she was out, so that by the time she returned I was in control of myself and could pretend nothing had happened … Inside, I was just numb with shock, which is why I was in denial about the pregnancy for so long.

  It was not until a couple of years later that I began to wonder if our marriage had been legal after all and so his subsequent one not, but I was living with Suzanne by then and it was of no importance to me.

  I now lay the matter in your – and Henry’s – hands to decide what, if anything, to do about it. The best course is probably nothing.

  I hope you sometimes think of me kindly, as I think of you. You were a great support to me when I needed it most, even if you could never return my affection in the way I wanted.

  I will sign this with my love, in any case,

  Nessa Cassidy

  40

  The Elephant in the Room

  I hadn’t known until I heard Mum’s voice just how much I had feared she was dead. For a moment my throat closed up and I couldn’t speak.

  Then I said shakily, ‘Where on earth are you, Mum?’

  ‘Mumbai, of course,’ she said. ‘Didn’t Oshan tell you? He gave me this number when I rang the Farm earlier.’

  ‘No, he didn’t tell me. Perhaps he wanted it to be a surprise … which it certainly is. Have you been in Mumbai all this time?’

  ‘Oh, no, I was in a very remote ashram for ages. They took me in after I had some kind of accident, and when I got better I simply couldn’t rem
ember who I was.’

  ‘Didn’t they try to find out?’

  ‘No, but I was quite happy there, so I didn’t want them to.’

  ‘We were worried. We had no idea what had happened to you. River even went out to India to look for you.’

  ‘Dear River!’ she said. ‘I’m sure he enjoyed the visit even if he didn’t find me.’

  ‘But you’re not at this ashram any more?’

  ‘No, because some other Europeans visited and one of them had met me years ago at a party and recognized me … and then it all came back to me in a rush.’ She sighed. ‘I was sad to leave the ashram but I felt I’d had enough, so when my new friends left, I went with them.’

  That sounded a lot more like Mum than staying in the ashram for a few years.

  ‘I’ve got my luggage back, but my passport’s expired, so I’ll have to visit the Embassy. But there’s no rush.’

  ‘But you’ll need one to come home, won’t you?’

  ‘Eventually,’ she agreed. ‘Luckily, my friends are terribly rich and have paid for me to stay in this lovely hotel … and actually, I met someone wonderful in the bar, and I think I’m going to marry him. He’s a maharaja, or a prince or something,’ she added.

  I held the phone away and looked at it as if she might pop out, like a genie from a lamp, but could still hear her soft, dreamy voice droning on about Prince Charming, whoever he was. I was pretty sure his real name wasn’t Darling Boo-boo.

  Eventually I broke into this catalogue of his finer points and told her, as succinctly as I could, that actually, her biological parents had been married and her father, now deceased, was the brother of the man I’d come here to paint.

  ‘How wonderful!’ she said vaguely.

  I tried again. ‘It means you were legitimate, Mum. But then your father married someone else, bigamously, and you have a half-sister.’

  ‘Is she nice?’

  ‘Lovely,’ I said, leaving out the whole trying-to-kill-me bit. ‘And she has a son, my half-cousin, Mark. He inherited the family estate, but actually, if you took it to court, you might have some claim on part of it. But I’ve told them you won’t do that, so we’ve decided to forget about the first marriage.’