by Sk Quinn
‘I am. Look – you’ve got to let her live her own life, sis. Anyway, she’ll be back with us in a few days.’
Danny is still really pale. He lost a lot of blood, and the doctors say he’ll take a long time to recover. But he’s having a good rest up here. I can see he’s getting better.
‘I wish I saw her the way you see her,’ I tell him. ‘She’ll always be my little sister. Someone I need to look after.’
‘She’s my little sister too,’ Danny points out.
‘But you don’t worry about her like I do.’
‘That’s because I know she’ll be okay.’
‘You always say things like that Danny. But sometimes life isn’t okay. You very nearly weren’t okay.’
‘But I am. And no more Ray King. Life couldn’t be better. And look at you – marrying a Lord.’
‘Will you stop calling him that. He’s a person.’
‘I know. I like him, actually. I should take him out for a drink. Have a proper man chat. And thank him too. I mean, it’s pretty decent of him letting me stay here. I’m nothing to him.’
‘You’re not nothing,’ I say. ‘You’re my brother. You and Patrick will be related soon.’
‘All the more reason to take him out for a drink.’
‘A drink with you? I don’t want him running out on me before the wedding.’ I’m only half joking, and Danny knows it.
Too late, I see the hurt in his eyes.
‘So I’m not good enough for your Lord of the Manor? Is that it?’
‘It’s not that, Danny. It’s just … our family. I mean we’re not exactly clean cut are we?’
‘You are. So’s Wila. It’s just me who’s the rough diamond.’
‘And Mum,’ I say cautiously. ‘Dan – should I invite her to the wedding? I really don’t want to.’
‘Listen. She’s going to be hurt if you don’t invite her. And she’ll find out about it, Sez. One way or another.’
We hear loud voices, and Regan and Riley Thornburn tumble out of the castle door.
Regan shouts: ‘Don’t leave it in gear next time.’
‘For the last time, I DIDN’T LEAVE IT IN GEAR!’ Riley shouts back.
Regan spots me. ‘Look who it is, Riley. Lady red head and a mystery man.’
‘Who are you then?’ Danny croaks. ‘Another member of the Mansfield royal family?’
‘I suppose I am in a way.’ Regan pulls himself up taller. ‘I’m owner of this castle. So you’d better tell me who you are.’
‘Sezza’s brother.’
‘Who’s Sezza?’ asks Riley.
‘Her, you daft twat,’ says Regan, nodding at me. He eyes up Danny’s injuries. ‘You’re her brother? What happened to you, mate? Say the wrong thing to Lord Mansfield?’
‘I was talking when I should have been listening,’ says Danny. ‘You own the castle? I thought Lord Mansfield did.’
‘He only owns half,’ says Regan. ‘I own the other half.’
‘He conned Patrick’s sister into marrying him,’ I tell Danny, glaring at Regan.
‘You’d better mind what you say,’ Regan growls.
‘Easy there, pit bull,’ says Danny. ‘That’s my sister. Watch I don’t club you round the head with my broken arm.’
Riley sniggers.
A smile flickers on Regan’s face. ‘You’re all right you are. What are you doing up here with this lot of posh twats?’
‘I’m just here for the fresh air,’ says Danny. ‘And if I’m very lucky, the wedding. That’s if Sezza isn’t too ashamed of me.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Danny,’ I say. ‘I’m not ashamed of anyone. It’s just, with Mum …’ I trail off, feeling Regan’s hard, brown eyes on me.
‘Well, well. A little family rift,’ says Regan. ‘Let me guess. Seraphina here has got too big for her boots since she’s shacked up with Lord Fancy Pants. And she’s got no time for her family.’
‘Whoa whoa.’ Danny holds his hands up. ‘You’re flying a bit close to the wind there. She’s my sister. All right?’
‘You think that now,’ says Regan. ‘You just wait. As soon as she marries Lord Almighty she won’t want anything to do with you.’
‘That’s bullshit, Danny,’ I say.
‘You should come for a ride with us,’ says Regan. ‘When that arm of yours is fixed up.’
‘What do you ride?’ Danny asks.
‘Quads. Motorbikes. Tractors. You name it.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
‘Where’s Anise?’ I ask.
Regan shrugs. ‘Waiting for me somewhere, probably. Pining away.’ He puts on a girly voice. ‘Oh Regan! Where are you? Don’t leave me Regan!’
‘You shouldn’t talk about her that way,’ I say, hands on hips. ‘She’s your wife. Show her some respect.’
‘Respect? For that whining bit of wet flannel. She’s lucky I even give her the time of day.’
‘You’re using her,’ I say angrily. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’
‘Why? We’re not all born with a silver spoon in our mouths like the Mansfields. Anise doesn’t have a clue about the real world. So I’m educating her. I take what I can. That’s how the real world is. And the sooner you figure that out, the better.’
The two brothers walk off, roaring with laughter.
50
‘What’s going on with those two?’ Danny asks.
‘It’s a long story,’ I say.
‘I have time.’
I sigh. ‘Patrick’s sister married Regan a few days ago. And now Regan owns half the castle. But he’s a complete arsehole. He’s using Anise to get what he can.’
‘A sister?’ Danny flashes me his crooked grin. ‘Maybe I can have some fun up here after all.’
‘Come on,’ I say, wrapping my arms around myself. ‘I need to find Bertie. And you need to get back to bed.’
‘I’m sick of that bed,’ says Danny.
‘Why don’t you go for a walk in the woods then?’
‘The woods? When did you turn into a country girl?’
‘Since I got together with Patrick.’
Danny makes a horsey noise. ‘Not so long ago, you were in Camden singing in a crowded pub. Now you’re up here with Lord Toffee Nose, marrying in a cathedral. Sis – are you sure this is you? All this stuff? Are you sure you’re not being something you’re not?’
‘You think I haven’t thought about that? Every day I wake up in this place and wonder if Patrick will realise he’s made a terrible mistake. And then there’s the wedding … marrying in some big cathedral. It’s a stress, Danny.’ I sigh. ‘But I love Patrick. That’s all I know for sure.’
‘Well sis. If you love him there’s only one thing you can do, isn’t there?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Marry the guy.’
51
I find Bertie in the great hall with Daphne.
He’s eaten some breakfast. A few soldiers and part of a boiled egg.
I’m glad about that.
‘Do you want to tell Seraphina our plans?’ Daphne asks him.
Bertie shrugs.
‘Oh Bertie. Come on. You can say a few words now. Let me hear your lovely voice.’
‘Don’t mind,’ says Bertie, and Daphne beams at him.
‘There now. Not so hard, is it? And we love to hear you. Don’t we Seraphina?’
‘We really do Bertie,’ I say. ‘Every time you speak it’s magic.’
‘I’m taking Bertie into the city this morning,’ says Daphne. ‘We need to buy him a page boy outfit for your wedding.’
I smile. ‘You want to be page boy, Bertie?’
Bertie gives a little nod.
‘Well I can’t think of anyone better.’
‘What about your bridesmaids?’ asks Daphne. ‘Do they have dresses yet?’
‘I really don’t know,’ I say. ‘I mean … I haven’t picked them or anything. Is that my job?’
‘Depends how fussy you are,’ says Daphne. ‘Some bri
des like to pick out everything themselves. Others don’t mind the bridesmaids choosing.’
‘I only really have two bridesmaids. My friend Sharon and my little sister.’
‘So with Anise and Zara, that makes four.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Anise and Zara. It’s a Mansfield tradition that sisters and cousins become the bridesmaids. Didn’t Patrick tell you? You’re lucky you only have two. When I got married, there were five cousins and two sisters.’
‘There’s no way I’m having Zara as my bridesmaid,’ I say. ‘Anise maybe. A BIG maybe. But Zara, no way. I don’t even want her at the wedding. I’ve already told Patrick that.’
Daphne smiles. ‘You mustn’t fight this. It’s tradition. And with the Mansfields, tradition is very important.’
‘Well I’m not a Mansfield yet, I’m a Harper. And what’s important to me is that Zara isn’t at our wedding.’
‘Does it really matter?’ says Daphne. ‘It’s only one day. And then you’ll have Patrick for the rest of your life.’
‘Yes it matters,’ I say. ‘I don’t want her in the cathedral, let alone walking down the aisle with her behind me. Where’s Patrick?’
‘He had an early appointment. With a solicitor. Didn’t he tell you?’
‘No he didn’t. He just said he had something to do first thing. Is the solicitor something to do with …’ My eyes drop to Bertie.
Daphne nods. ‘That would be my guess.’
‘I need to speak to Patrick.’
‘I have a card if that would help,’ says Daphne. She rummages in her white leather handbag. ‘Here. Veronica Daniels.’
‘Wait.’ I frown at the card. ‘Didn’t Grey say … I thought she’s representing Dirk Mansfield? He said that … when we first met him in the woods.’
‘She’s been the Mansfield solicitor for a long time,’ says Daphne. ‘Who knows which side she’s on? Personally I never cared for her. A terribly cold woman. Bad dress sense. And too thin.’
‘So why is Patrick meeting her?’
‘I’m not sure. But if you want to find him, that’s where he’ll be. Veronica has an office in the city. We can drive in together if you like. Maybe even have lunch with you. Would you like that Bertie?’
‘Yes please,’ says Bertie.
52
When we arrive in Edinburgh, Daphne asks our driver to take a route past St Mary’s Cathedral – where I’ll be getting married.
‘I really think you should see the cathedral before your wedding day,’ says Daphne. ‘It’s a truly wonderful building.’
And she’s right. Wonderful and scary.
The car pulls to a stop on the curb.
I look up at the sandy grey building. And up.
It looks so imposing. With its tall tower and stained glass windows. Grand. But a little cold. I can’t imagine myself in that building. I can’t imagine being the sort of bride who marries in a national landmark.
‘Feeling nervous?’ says Daphne.
I nod.
‘I was nervous too,’ says Daphne, putting a soft hand over mine. ‘And I had much more reason to be than you, believe me.’
‘How well did you know Dirk?’ I ask. ‘Before you married him?’
‘Not well at all. That was a small mercy. If I’d known what a monster he was, I would have been petrified.’ She smiles. ‘In those days you didn’t see so much of your husband before the wedding day. It wasn’t the done thing. Dirk and I met at a dance. He was from the right family. He was charming. Handsome. A good dancer. Our parents approved, so when he asked me to marry him I said yes.
‘I dare say I was agreeable to him, for one reason or another. Young. Blonde. Pretty, if I do say so myself. And Scottish men liked my accent.’
She winks.
‘The marriage was agreed and arranged before I had chance to draw breath,’ she continues. ‘My mother’s doing. She saw the danger of having a pretty blonde daughter. She was afraid of scandal. So the sooner she could marry me off the better.’
‘No wonder you were scared,’ I say, looking up at the cathedral spires. ‘I’m petrified, and I know who I’m marrying.’
‘You’re marrying a good man. I promise you that.’
‘Yes. I know.’ Our eyes meet. ‘How long did it take to find out what Dirk was like?’
Daphne laughs. ‘I knew on our wedding night. He was rough. Unkind. Uncaring. Not the gentlemen he pretended to be in public. He took what he wanted, then went to sleep in a separate room. He never once slept in a bed with me. Not the whole time we were married.
‘His temper grew and grew. Everything I did irritated him. The way I did my makeup. The time it took to choose my clothes … but it was a long time before I realised just what a monster he was. How far he was prepared to go. They say in this country that a man’s home is his castle. Well. In Dirk’s castle, he ruled with an iron fist. There was no disagreeing with him.’
She glances at Bertie. ‘Let’s just say he turned out to be a monster through and through. I didn’t know then about the young girls. About Margaret Calder … But I knew Dirk to be capable of anything. A man without morals. I saw enough of him in the bedroom to understand how much he liked to humiliate others. To make them small so he could feel big.
‘Whenever a business deal went wrong, whenever he gambled away too much money, he’d order me into the bedroom and … well you can guess the rest.’
‘That sounds awful,’ I say. ‘You must have been so frightened.’
She shrugs. ‘I just thought that was how marriage was. I heard enough women complain about marriage and … you know, the things husbands liked to do in the bedroom. I assumed it was all normal. It took a long time before I realised it was so bad I had to leave. Long enough to have two children.
‘And of course, young ladies didn’t complain about their husbands in those days. The idea of divorce … well, it just wasn’t done. When I finally did leave, I caused a great deal of shame to my family. A great deal. I’m not sure my mother ever truly got over it. And I can’t forgive myself either.’
I sandwich her hand between mine. ‘You did the right thing.’
‘When you have children, sometimes there are no good choices.’
I think of my mother and wonder about her choices. I’ve always blamed her for how things were. But she had me so young. In some ways she was stuck. She never really had a chance to grow up, I suppose. A teenager forever.
Daphne squeezes my fingers. ‘You and Patrick will have a beautiful marriage. And beautiful children. A happy family. You have nothing to be afraid of, my dear.’ She waves her hand at the cathedral. ‘After all this pomp and ceremony is over, you will have something very special. Don’t focus too much on the nonsense of the wedding day. It’s very nice, but not real. The real comes from the marriage.’
‘Did you enjoy your wedding day?’ I ask.
‘Believe it or not, I did,’ says Daphne. ‘Family and friends all around. A great big cake shipped in from France. And my wedding dress – lace from head to toe. I was a lovely bride. You’d never guess from the wedding pictures just how badly the marriage went.
‘I didn’t know the truth about Dirk then. So I was happy and silly and thought it was all a fairy tale romance. Me in a big white dress with my dashing husband.’ She laughs. ‘How little I knew.’
I smile. ‘I should count my blessings really, shouldn’t I?’
‘Indeed you should,’ says Daphne. ‘Indeed you should.’
53
The driver drops me a few roads away, outside a beautiful redbrick building that reaches high into the sky. It has a glass door with the words ‘Veronica Daniels and Co Solicitors’ printed on it.
Daphne and Bertie wave goodbye, and I step out onto the pavement.
Suddenly, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.
Patrick didn’t tell me about this meeting. Maybe there’s a reason. But … if it’s to do with Bertie, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be involved.
&nb
sp; And anyway, I need to talk to him in a hurry. I don’t want Zara to be our bridesmaid. And I want Patrick to know that as soon as possible.
The reception area is slick, shiny and full of leather furniture.
An icy blonde receptionist with a sharp haircut watches me.
‘May I help you?’ she asks, cool as the day outside.
‘I’m looking for Patrick Mansfield,’ I say. ‘I heard he was here. Seeing … um, Mrs Daniels.’
‘Miss Daniels,’ the receptionist says, her light blue eyes fixed on me. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘Not exactly,’ I admit. ‘But I’m sure Patrick won’t mind me interrupting.’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry. Who are you?’ She says it in a way that puts me right in my place.
‘I’m Patrick’s fiancée,’ I say.
Her eyebrows shoot up into her hair. ‘You’re Patrick’s fiancée?’
‘Yes I am.’
‘Oh! Right. I see. It’s just …’
‘What?’
‘I suppose I was expecting … never mind.’
‘Expecting what?’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but … the Mansfields usually mix with the same people. The same group – you see them at all the balls and charity events. And I haven’t seen you before. So … did he meet you in France or something? His mother’s French, isn’t she?’
‘No. I’m from England.’
‘Oh.’
I can see her trying to work out where to place me.
She frowns. ‘Are you one of the Duchess of Cambridge’s relatives?’
I laugh. ‘No. I’m no one. I’m Bertie Mansfield’s nanny.’
Her eyes practically bulge out of her head. ‘You’re the nanny? And you and Patrick are engaged?’ She leans over the desk. ‘That’s good going. How did you manage that one?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know,’ I say. ‘It just sort of happened. It’s not like I planned it or anything.’
‘Well I am so jealous,’ says the blonde, flicking a smile at me. ‘I’ve been after him for years. And not so much as a glance in my direction. It hardly ever happens – one of the aristocratic families marrying out of their circle. In fact, it never happens. So whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.’ She picks up the phone. ‘Miss Daniels? I have someone here to see Patrick. His fiancée. May I send her in?’
