by Sk Quinn
Danny guffaws with laughter. ‘Patrick couldn’t lose his job if he tried.’
‘Oh.’ Dad frowns. ‘Is he unemployed then?’
‘Patrick is … I mean, he doesn’t work at the castle,’ I say.
‘Oh?’
‘He sort of owns the castle.’
Dad’s eyes widen. ‘Owns the castle?’
‘Yes. He’s Lord Patrick Mansfield.’
‘LORD Patrick Mansfield?’ says Dad.
‘I assure you I don’t flash around the Lord title,’ says Patrick, downing his whisky. ‘Just Patrick is fine.’
‘Lord Patrick Mansfield?’ says Dad, his eyes getting ever wider with disbelief. ‘You’re a Lord? Like … a rich fellow?’
Patrick laughs. ‘Not all lords are rich.’
‘You are though,’ says Danny.
Patrick shrugs. ‘Depends who you ask. To some people, my wealth is just a drop in the ocean. Anyway. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Seraphina and I love one another. And I’ll take good care of her.’
‘Look, I’m happy that you two care about each other,’ says Dad. ‘But … this sounds all wrong to me. You’ve only just met. You couldn’t be more different. I mean – Sera, sweetheart. He’s a Lord.’
‘And pretty soon she’ll be a Lady,’ says Patrick.
‘On paper maybe,’ says Dad. ‘But Sera, this is all … I mean, we’re not cut of this cloth. A castle? You really want to marry a man so different from yourself?’
‘You know, I worried about the same thing,’ I say. ‘For a long time. And I still worry about it. But the truth is Dad, we’re not different in the ways that matter. Patrick is everything I could ever want in a man. He’s brave. He’s honest. And he’s so good to me. Truly. If you could only get to know him—’
Dad sighs. ‘You know what this sounds like? Puppy love. Sera – this isn’t a grown up choice. It’s too soon. You’re rushing things.’
‘Mr Harper, I love your daughter,’ says Patrick. ‘I’ve never loved anyone or anything the way I love Seraphina. This isn’t puppy love. Not even close. It’s the real thing. And I will take care of her until the end of my days.’
I can see Dad’s face soften a little. ‘You’re clearly a good man. But I’m just worried for my daughter. She’s not from this world. I’m worried she won’t be happy here. Away from everything she knows. Seraphina, you’re a city girl. Always have been.’
I put my hand on Dad’s arm. ‘I was. But not anymore. I love it up here Dad. And I love Patrick.’
Danny takes his feet off the sofa. ‘He’s a decent bloke, Dad. I think they’ll be okay. No marriage comes with guarantees, does it? I mean, look at me and Amy. Grew up in the same street. Same friends. Same life, really. And yet we split up.’
‘She was a nasty piece of work,’ says Dad.
‘Exactly,’ says Danny. ‘Better Sera marry a nice man then a nasty one, don’t you think? And she’s seen enough nasty ones in her time.’
Dad sighs. ‘It’s just hard. I want to save you from being hurt, Sera. That’s all.’
‘Then say you’re happy for me,’ I say. ‘And give me away at the wedding. Because that’s the only thing that would hurt me right now – your disapproval.’
‘Okay. Okay, point taken. Give me a little bit of time to get used to the idea. Okay? And once I get my head around it … Danny’s right. No marriage comes with guarantees.’
‘Let’s have a drink together,’ says Patrick. ‘And Mr Harper sir, I hope I can convince you that this marriage does come with a guarantee.’ He turns to me. ‘Why don’t you go and spend an afternoon in the spa? And let your father and I get to know each other? We’re having a formal dinner this evening. I’ll have hair and makeup called and they can help get you ready.’
‘Hair and makeup?’
‘Yes. It’s a formal dinner.’
I knock back my whisky. ‘Okay,’ I say grudgingly. ‘I’ll miss you, but … it’s probably good for you and Dad to spend time together. Shall I see you at dinner, then?’
Patrick leans over the bar and kisses me lightly on the cheek. ‘Yes.’
‘Um … what is a formal dinner exactly?’
‘Ball gowns and tuxedos. And don’t worry – Hugo will come later with gowns for you to try. He has suits for your father and brother too.’
I smile. ‘You really do think of everything, don’t you?’
64
When I get to the spa, the air is heavy with delicious, warm steam. There are puffy white towels on shelves and I see a swimming costume laid out over a wicker sun lounger.
The swimming costume is pretty plain – black with thick straps.
I smile.
Patrick must have had the housekeeper lay that out for me.
I think he wants me as covered up as possible. Maybe he’s worried that Grey might be soaking in the hot tub.
After I’ve changed, I slide into the tub and feel jets pummel my body. The warm, lavender-scented air flows around me and I hear the drip of water and soothing music playing from a hidden speaker.
Just as I’m feeling really relaxed, a head pokes around the doorway.
‘Hiya!’
It’s a young girl wearing a white beautician’s outfit. Her blonde hair is slicked back in a bun.
‘Oh! Hi.’ I sit up in the water.
‘I’m Natalie. You’re Seraphina, right?’
‘Yes,’ I smile.
‘I’ve heard all about you!’
‘You have? From who?’
‘From Patrick of course! He says you’re very special. And for Patrick to say that about someone … well he must mean it. Anyway.’ Natalie slaps her hands together. ‘I’m here to give you a facial, then do your makeup.’ She unfolds a fluffy dressing gown. ‘Let’s get you out of that water and into one of these. And we’ll get started.’
65
Natalie takes me around the swimming pool and into a white room full of cosmetics and beauty products.
There’s a leather day bed, and Natalie leads me to it and tells me to lie down.
Then she puts a band around my hair and massages lovely smelling products into my face.
‘Keep your eyes closed!’ she scolds, as I try to take a peak at what she’s doing.
‘Okay,’ I smile, letting her soothing fingers work their magic.
Once she’s massaged in all sorts of serums and moisturisers, she sits me up and pulls over a mirror on wheels.
‘Now we can figure out your makeup,’ she tells me. ‘Whatever we decide on today, you can wear for your big day too. Are you excited?’
‘A little bit nervous,’ I admit. ‘I don’t wear much makeup. But I like messing around with how I look. It’ll be nice to have someone helping.’
‘Patrick said you have an artistic streak,’ she says.
‘Did he indeed?’
‘Yes. Now. I think swoopy kohl eyeliner and red lips would really suit you. Very vintage. What do you think?’
‘I’d love to try it,’ I say. ‘I can never get the lines straight when I do big swoops with eyeliner.’
‘Well that’s where I come in,’ Natalie smiles. She does perfect flicks above my eyes and pats powder on my cheeks.
‘You skin is so good, I don’t think we even need foundation,’ she tells me. ‘You’re pale, though. The lightest powder I have.’ She frowns. ‘Usually I’d pop a bit of bronzer on the cheeks, but with you … I think rouge will be better.’
‘Rouge?’ I say, picturing those old ladies with bright red dots on their cheeks. ‘Really?’
‘Relax,’ she says. ‘I’ve got some really nice subtle ones. A very light pink for you. Okay?’
‘Okay. I trust you.’
‘Good. Because I’m going to make you look absolutely beautiful. Those features of yours – those cheekbones and those great big eyes – you’re going to shine. Just wait and see.’
Half an hour later I’ve never seen my face look so glowing. So alive.
I keep checking myself
in the mirror, turning this way and that, not quite believing it’s me I’m seeing.
‘This is amazing,’ I say.
‘You were easy,’ says Natalie, looking over my shoulder. ‘I just brought out what was there to begin with. Nothing to cover up or hide. You’re going to be a beautiful bride.’
‘And a nervous one,’ I say.
‘All brides are nervous though, aren’t they?’
‘Probably. But not all of them get married in a great big cathedral. With everyone watching.’
‘Just don’t think too much about it. You’re a singer, right?’
‘Yes. How did you know that?’
‘Patrick told me.’
I laugh. ‘Just how much did Patrick tell you about me exactly?’
‘Oh plenty,’ she laughs. ‘He couldn’t shut up about you. All I asked was what kind of things you were into. I wanted to get an idea of what makeup to bring. And he started talking about what an amazing singer you are and how much you love children and all the rest of it. Anyway, if you’re a singer you must be used to performing in front of people. Right?’
‘Sort of.’
‘So. Just think of it that way. Just like a performance. Oh! Here’s Tracy.’
I turn to see another young blonde girl rapping on the window. She looks a little like Natalie – they’re wearing the same uniform, but instead of honey blonde highlights, Tracy has brown hair.
Tracy opens the door carefully and peaks around. ‘Knock, knock,’ she says quietly. ‘Am I okay to come in?’
‘Course Tracy! In you come.’ Natalie waves a hand. ‘I was just telling Seraphina all the things Patrick said about her.’
‘He couldn’t stop talking about you to me either,’ says Tracy, with a shy smile. ‘I think he’s got it really bad. Which is a good thing. Since you’re getting married. So. Have you thought about how you might like your hair?’
Tracy and I decide on a sweeping up do, with lots of back-combing and volume. Then we accessorise with a silver bird clip above my left ear.
Wow.
‘I love it!’ I exclaim, as Tracy shows me the mirror, front and back.
‘Now you’re all ready to hit the town this evening,’ says Natalie.
‘Oh, we’re not hitting the town,’ I say. ‘We’re having a formal dinner. In the castle.’
‘Ooo!’ says Natalie. ‘A Mansfield formal dinner. I’ve heard about those. They buy up half the village’s meat, vegetables and whisky for those things.’
‘Oh I don’t think it’s that big a deal,’ I say, feeling a little hot all of a sudden. ‘I mean, it’s only my dad visiting.’
‘Lucky him,’ says Natalie. ‘When Prince Fedora of Greece visited, the Mansfields killed a goat in honour of his arrival. And another time, when the Spanish Royal family visited, they made a paella the size of a swimming pool. The whole village was eating it for weeks.’
‘It’s only going to be my family,’ I insist. ‘We’re no one special. I’m sure Patrick will just be arranging a normal sort of night.’
‘Well, I suppose you know Patrick best,’ says Natalie, dusting my face with a powder brush. ‘There! You look absolutely perfect. Relax here on the sun lounger. I’ll do your nails and then Hugo will show you your dresses. He’s got a whole lorry load arriving, apparently. All designer ball gowns. I am so jealous!’
66
I could get used to being waited on.
Relaxing on the sun lounger, sipping an iced coffee and eating shortbread, I watch Natalie massage my hands, then trim and file my nails. After she’s worked essential oils into my skin and tidied my nails, she paints on a thick coat of burgundy nail lacquer. My choice of colour, of course. And I love it.
I’m just admiring my nails when I hear a ‘rattle rattle rattle’ noise.
Suddenly, Hugo appears with a rail of clothes and a full-length mirror on wheels.
‘Good afternoon campers! I have Cinderella’s ball gowns.’
I laugh. ‘Hi Hugo. Wow. Those dresses are gorgeous.’
‘And they’re all in your colours. Greens, browns, oranges.’
I sit up on the sun lounger. ‘They look amazing.’
‘I know,’ says Hugo. ‘Don’t they? And just your look, don’t you think? Beautiful, but a little bit crazy.’
I laugh. ‘A little bit crazy?’
Hugo shrugs. ‘Nothing wrong with crazy.’
‘And I suit crazy?’
‘You certainly do. Not many girls can pull it off. You, Seraphina, are an artist. Big and bold.’
‘Not always,’ I say, standing to look at the dresses.
‘I did good, didn’t I?’ says Hugo. ‘I must say, all the designers were jumping at the chance to dress the new Mrs Patrick Mansfield.’
‘Were they?’ I ask uncertainly.
‘Yes they were. You, my dear, are going to have to get used to being a celebrity.’
‘I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,’ I say. ‘I’m just plain old Seraphina. No matter what dress I’m wearing.’
‘Oh no,’ says Hugo. ‘There’s nothing plain about you. Your personality leaps out. You just can’t hold it in. And the world wants to see it, Seraphina. Mark my words.’
‘Mmm.’ I finger the dresses, pulling out a gorgeous burnt orange dress that looks like a ballerina’s tutu.
‘I’m not sure about that one,’ says Hugo, stepping forward. ‘The designer insisted I bring it, but … for a formal dinner? I don’t think so. Here. How about this?’
He pulls out a forest green gown that drapes gracefully all the way to the floor.
‘Imagine the noise it’ll make as you walk,’ says Hugo. ‘Swish, swish! Beautiful. Elegant.’
‘I like it,’ I say. ‘But …’
‘Okay, next,’ says Hugo. ‘Ah! How about this? Carvallia. Very this season.’
It’s another floor length gown with a big poofy skirt. The colour is mustard yellow. It has diamond-shaped cut out sections over the arms and back.
Hugo holds it over me and turns the mirror so I can see.
‘Beautiful,’ he breathes.
I have to admit the colour does suit me. And it is a very cool dress, but …
‘I’m not sure,’ I say. ‘It just doesn’t quite feel like me.’
‘Next!’ Hugo shouts, throwing the dress back onto the rail. He pushes through dresses, frowning in thought.
Then I spy a flash of icy blue.
‘What about this one?’ I say.
Unlike the other dresses, it has a fitted skirt. It has a tight bodice too, with a high neckline with an oval cut out around the collarbone. And it’s sewn with crystals that sparkle like water.
‘Oh, now this is a very special dress,’ says Hugo. ‘Hand embellished. A complete original. I had to beg for this one. It’s meant for the winter collection this year. You are so ahead of your time.’
‘I love it,’ I say, taking the dress off the rail and holding it over my body.
‘I think it loves you too,’ says Hugo.
‘Wow,’ says Natalie. ‘It looks amazing.’
‘She hasn’t even tried it on yet,’ says Tracy. ‘What if it doesn’t fit?’
‘It will fit,’ says Natalie. ‘It just has to. It’s perfect for her.’
‘I have to warn you,’ says Hugo. ‘There’s something unusual about this dress.’
‘What?’ I ask.
‘It’s a true one of a kind. No other dress like it. Um … there’s a special rule. For ladies who wear this dress.’
‘What rule?’
‘You can’t wear underwear.’
‘What?’
‘No lingerie.’ Hugo nods. ‘It’s part of the design. The bodice will hold you in and push you up. And down below … well, panties would spoil the lines. So you can’t wear them.’
I laugh. ‘So this is a no panty dress. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Exactly right. You wear it naked.’
I laugh. ‘Patrick will be pleased.’
&nbs
p; Natalie and Tracy giggle.
‘I really do love it.’ I stroke the silky fabric.
‘Why don’t you try it on?’ says Hugo.
I grin. ‘Okay. Why not?’
67
I head into the spa changing room, slip off my swimming costume and slip on the dress.
It really does feel amazing on my naked body. So silky and sensual.
Hugo is right – the bodice does hold me in and push me up.
I have no idea what I look like though. There’s no mirror in here – just Scandinavian wood.
‘Well?’ Hugo calls. ‘Are you coming out?’
I turn back and forth, smoothing the dress against my body. It feels amazing. Truly. A perfect fit.
I walk out of the dressing room and find the tight skirt makes my legs saunter back and forth, like I’m walking on a catwalk.
‘Wow,’ says Hugo, as I walk towards him. ‘Just wow, girl. That dress was made for you.’
Natalie and Tracy don’t say anything. They just watch me with silly smiles on their faces.
‘Here.’ Hugo turns the mirror, and I see my reflection – a dazzling redhead in a dress that flows like water. The fabric clings to every bit of my body. My smile grows and grows.
‘I am so jealous right now,’ says Natalie.
‘You look beautiful,’ says Tracy. ‘You should be in a magazine or something. Patrick is a lucky man.’
‘Wait!’ Hugo pulls a blue shoe box from under the rail of clothes. ‘We can’t forget the most important thing. Your shoes, Cinderella.’
He opens the box, and there – lying on black satin – is a pair of glass high heels.
‘Toughened glass,’ Hugo tells me. ‘So don’t worry about snapping the heel. Just don’t run off without them at midnight, Cinderella.’
‘I won’t,’ I promise him. ‘I’m not letting these shoes out of my sight.’
68
I spend the rest of the afternoon in the spa, having a pedicure and hot-stone massage.
Natalie is careful not to mess up my hair and makeup. But Tracy stays on hand, just in case she needs to do any ‘touching up’ as she calls it.
At 5pm Louise, the housekeeper, arrives with a message – Bertie and Daphne are staying out for supper.
