A Castle in Cornwall

by Laura Briggs

  "Yeah ... I just ... guess I was surprised." I didn't know what I was feeling. It was a bit awkward ... but it was a bit nice, too. Him being here, trying to support me. Even if his reading was rubbish.

  "I'll probably do better the next time. I didn't exactly have time to practice this week. Shows, huh?"

  "I would've helped you, if you wanted," I said. "I would've read lines with you, if you'd only said something."

  "Then it wouldn't have been a surprise," he said. "Hey, look — we're spending your birthday together after all." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Besides, I don't expect to get a part — not a speaking one, anyway." He grinned, briefly, and I thought he was relieved by this. "I thought I'd just hang out. Paint some scenery, watch you practice. Spend time with you in between."

  "I'm not in the cast," I said. "Not yet, anyway. I'm probably too new for them to pick." I thought maybe it looked like we were having an argument to anybody watching, so I tried to lighten the mood a little. I wasn't angry, anyway. It was thoughtful of him, the sort of thing every girl wants from a bloke. I just hadn't expected it here and now.

  "I'm pretty sure you will be," he said.

  I blushed three shades deeper than before, although I tried not to. That look in his eyes had an effect on me. Months of trying to figure it out, and I still do nothing except give in when it happens.

  "So when will they tell us who gets the part?" he asked. "Not that I'm in it, obviously."

  "Monday," I said. "That's the next meeting. That's when they'll announce what play we're doing."

  Nathan hanging around here, getting to know my friends outside Cliffs House's crowd — it was sure to reach my Mum's ears soon. Uncle Phil and his lot would make jokes about the two of us that would emphasize Nathan's foreigner status and posh job ... knowing my luck, they'd make the same jokes to his face, once some sort of meeting was forced between us all. He wouldn't be 'some bloke I'm seeing' anymore.

  "This'll be fun," he said. "I'll hang around and drive you home after the meeting. I'll be at the pub when you're ready." He pulled on his coat and gave me another smile.

  He looked a lot more comfortable, now that he wasn't holding a script. A bit boyish and earnest, really. I almost gave him a kiss on the cheek then and there, but realized someone was bound to be watching us now. I sneaked a quick glance to make sure there wasn't, before I stole against him and laid my lips against his face.

  "See you later," I said. I knew he wouldn't be gone twenty seconds before someone asked me about him.

  "Who is that dishy newcomer?" asked Nellie. Across the auditorium, Andy caught my eye and gave me a knowing look, since he knew full well why Nathan was hanging about Cliffs House. If it wasn't before, my relationship with Nathan was now going to be very official to the society, and the rest of the village soon after.

  And what was wrong with that?

  Nothing. Only it kept hopping into my thoughts all the next day as I finished the menu with Michael, and packed for my weekend in Aval Towan. Nathan's gesture wasn't the sort I could forget easily, especially since I couldn't put into words that I was flattered and pleased and exasperated by it — the summary of everything between me and Nathan, in reality.

  Me and Nathan — what would it mean if those two words were coupled as an us?

  ***

  Julianne:

  I was looking forward to Saturday morning. Not just because it was the first day we would begin serious discussion of the grand hall for the ceremony, but because the one person I missed the most during this extended vacation was coming here. Matthew had promised he would arrive before lunch, and I could hardly wait.

  "Yes, but is he trustworthy?" Helen had pursed her lips.

  "The soul of discretion," soothed Lady Amanda. "Besides, you have to trust someone with the wedding's flowers. And who better than someone I've relied on so many times?"

  It was the photos, ironically, of the bouquet for Petal Price-Parker (ne Borroway) that convinced her that Cliffs House's floral staff would suit her needs. In addition to Matt, I summoned Kitty to help us create sketches that would impress the bride's family — and, I hoped, the bride herself, who seemed mostly interested in classical music on the iPod, thus far.

  The moment he stepped through the door, I wrapped my arms around Matt, burying my face against his collar. "I've missed you," I said, not caring that my voice was muffled.

  "It's scarcely been a day," he said, chuckling. "You do realize I wasn't even at Rosemoor yesterday?"

  "That's not the point," I said, drawing back to look at him. "Anyway, I desperately need you to help make this wedding a success ... and promise your lips are sealed in the presence of tabloid journalists."

  "Of course," he said. "I have a few samples in here —" he held up the basket in his hand, "—that I think will impress Josephine and her mother with regards to the floral selection. Kitty will have to be the voice on arranging them, of course."

  Kitty had entered behind him, wearing her best business clothes and heels, looking the part far more than Matthew in his casual attire. As soon as Matthew had gone through to the kitchen, we were joined by Gemma with Edwin in his stroller.

  At the sight of Kitty, Edwin began gurgling, extending his hands towards her as if he could reach her from meters away. Kitty's smile broke in its full splendor.

  "Upsies?" she asked him. This was her name for Edwin's game with his favorite person — Kitty would lift him overhead, then back down and up again a few times. Shrieks of joy always resulted, and in seconds, Edwin was chortling with laughter as Kitty lifted him once again.

  "You there!" A commanding, yet frail, female voice addressed me from an open doorway. "You — wedding planner — are we going to be lolling about all day? I haven't much time left, you know, and I don't want to spend it standing around while Helen powders her nose once again."

  The dowager — the legendary Lady Astoria — had deigned to be present for Josephine's dress's arrival. Despite her ninety years of age, she walked with a cane more for the sake of dignity and providing annoyance to others than any real need of it. She had escaped from the private sitting room where I had strongly hinted for her to wait, while Marjorie struggled with a conference call regarding Whitehall business.

  "The garment fitters haven't arrived yet," I answered. "Josephine will be down soon, however, so why don't you go back to the parlor and wait for her?"

  "Dreadfully dull room," muttered Lady Astoria. "Not a speck of imagination in it. Reggie's wife took all the decent prints and curios after he died. Might as well be a chiropodist's office." She noticed Kitty now, who was giving Edwin a quick spin for good measure before restoring him to his stroller.

  "Who's that girl?" She pointed with her cane.

  "That's my assistant, Kitty Alderson," I said.

  "I like her," she said. "Energy and youth. She's more interesting than half the lot Marjorie's dragged in for this thing. You there," she said to Kitty. "Come here for a moment."

  "Kitty, this is Lady Astoria," I said. "She's Josephine's grandmother. She just arrived from Paris for the wedding preparations."

  "You're a sharp-looking young woman," said Lady Astoria. "Speak any languages besides the Queen's English?"

  "Bit of Cornish I've picked up," said Kitty. "Bit of French. I've been learning, at any rate."

  "Not the Queen's English," said Lady Astoria, upon hearing Kitty's accent. "But that's quite all right. Never liked all that mincing talk — came to a point that the staff was more proper than the lord of the manor on that count." She scrutinized Kitty from crown to foot, as if reading her like a label. "French, you say," she continued. "Any good at your job?"

  "She's excellent at her job," I answered, giving Kitty a smile.

  "Hmph. How'd you like to leave her and work for me, girl?" asked Lady Astoria. "My last assistant walked out. Old crank without a sense of amusement or energy anyway — always tucking hot water bottles into my bed, or telling me to climb the stairs more slowly. I need someone
with a bit of youth and fire."

  "I'm not exactly looking for a position," said Kitty. "Don't you think it's a bit hasty to offer a job to someone you've only just met?"

  Lady Astoria quirked one eyebrow. "Blunt, aren't we?" she said. "At my age, time is of the essence, Ms. Alderson. I know my mind well enough. Can you run errands? Answer telephone calls? Get rid of annoying relations or acquaintances who stop by? As for looking after my things and my wardrobe, you'd learn quickly enough. Better to learn by mistake than learn and make them anyway, I say."

  "Never heard that one before," said Kitty.

  "Think about my offer." Lady Astoria pointed her cane at Kitty, then swung it in my direction. "Now, if I can be forgiven for attempting to poach your staff, will you be so kind as to send in whatever dreadful help Marjorie employs with a cup of tea? My throat is parched from boredom."

  "Absolutely," I said. Gemma hastened away to fulfill this request, giving Edwin a swift ride in the direction of the kitchen, much to his satisfaction — Edwin hates slow perambulators.

  Kitty glanced at me. "Is she always that bold?" she asked, as soon as the dowager disappeared.

  "Lady Astoria knows her own mind — as she no doubt informed you," said Marjorie, who emerged from a room that served as her office; I made a mental note to remember it and not to wander in there in search of the breakfast nook tomorrow.

  "Probably what happened to her last assistant," said Kitty. "They knew theirs as well."

  "You might give it thought," said Marjorie, glancing from her to me. "I know she's a dreadful old bat at times, but she's quite active socially in Paris. Her apartment's a fantastic posh suite of rooms, practically a time capsule full of antiques and furnishings that Coco Chanel would have coveted. And the company she keeps ... mark my words, it wouldn't hurt your career's future to rub shoulders with them."

  "Thanks, but I'm quite content with not-so-posh society," said Kitty.

  "Even so, I'm sure that Julianne wouldn't stand in your way if you changed your mind," said Marjorie. Gemma, who had returned with a tea tray for the dowager, was now at my elbow.

  "The fitters are here," she announced. Marjorie's cheerful expression vanished.

  "Oh, blast!" she declared. "And Helen is still moping somewhere in the gardens — Julianne, run and fetch Josephine, will you? Kitty, be so kind as to show them into the sitting room —"

  Upstairs, I knocked on a door that turned out to be a large linen and storage closet, then circled back to the suite that Gemma and I shared before finding my way to the wedding parties' chambers. The arched door to Josephine's room was partly open, so I gave it a hesitant push.

  "Josephine?" I said. "Are you here? Your dress has arrived, and your grandmother's really eager to see you in it ..." I stepped inside, seeing a neatly-made four-poster bed with an embroidered coverlet, and a dressing table occupied by a couple of binders and books, a computer tablet and keyboard, and a coil of earbud wires belonging to the bride-to-be's iPod.

  A few books on the bedside table — poetry — and a few DVDs, romantic titles like Bride and Prejudice, Ever After, Letters to Juliet. A tiny box which must have once held Josephine's engagement ring, but was now occupied, oddly enough, by a plastic gold one with a fake diamond rhinestone.

  Josephine must have gone for a walk. I stepped away, then the ruffle of paper in the breeze caught my eye. On the other side of her computer, a piece of paper — a note — was pinned beneath the keyboard.

  There. Relieved, I reached for it, only to realize my mistake. It wasn't a note written by Josephine to anybody here. Oddly-printed letters ... elaborately printed fonts ... spelled out words. 'I know it's your birthday. Here is something to remind you that one is thinking of you today.' And another: 'I wish you the best for your final exam. You are far too brilliant to fail, so never fear of it.' 'Your goal is so inspiring. I think of how many children's lives you will change and I am amazed by you.'

  There were more of them, along with small toys, a few hair ornaments, and some dried roses. Besides these, there were black and white photographs of a young man in a hooded sweatshirt, walking along a boardwalk somewhere, and paying for an ice cream cone. His face was obscured, but the photos had been taken in quick succession. I touched one, and the business card for a private detective peeked out from beneath it.

  "Are you looking for something?"

  The sound of Josephine's voice made me leap, half with guilt and half with surprise. "Sorry," I said. "I came to tell you your dress is here — I thought you'd left a note on the desk ... with the work for your foundation." Obviously that's what the binders and books — business ones — pertained to; but the rest of this stuff clearly didn't belong.

  "Of course," said Josephine. She smiled, but it wasn't just reserve I noticed in it — it was uneasiness. "I'll just fetch my cardigan and be downstairs momentarily. Please tell my grandmother it will only be a moment."

  "Sure," I said. "Whenever you're ready." I knew that wasn't the opinion of Ms. Krensky on the issue, but I felt guilty for having glimpsed something which was private and none of my business. Something that Josephine was now tucking away in a small jewelry box as I exited her room.

  "Where is she?" demanded Lady Astoria. "That child is scarcely twenty — she should have more energy than I, rather than creeping about upstairs like an old woman looking for her shawl." She adjusted her own shawl, a Paris silk one, around the shoulders of her houndstooth walking suit. "She's perfectly aware that Wilson is supposed to drive me up the coast to dine with Balmy Brightweather today."

  Balmy Brightweather? I tried not to laugh — he sounded like a made-up character from a British comedy. "She'll be down in a moment," I promised. The two fitters, for whom 'silence is golden' appeared to be a lifelong vow, were busy unpacking their sewing utensils, as Ms. Krensky impatiently tapped one foot.

  True to her word, Josephine came down a moment later, and smiled politely to the impatient Ms. Krensky as the wedding coordinator unpacked the giant garment box delivered from London. Inside, a stunning dress of white satin in an elegant, modern style, with an asymmetrical neckline that descended from a single sleeve.

  "Oh," said Helen, with a small cry of happiness. "Why, darling, it's beautiful." She glanced towards her daughter, whose smile was ... well ... the same as before. "I had so hoped to help you choose it ... if only I hadn't been so dreadfully ill that week ... but you've done so well on your own."

  "I'll try it on for you to admire," said Josephine. She stepped behind the folding changing screen provided by the London garment alterations team; the sound of rustling fabric followed.

  "It's by Gotan," said Ms. Krensky, proudly. "Josephine certainly has excellent taste. Rumor has it he'll be the toast of Milan in fewer than two years. When I saw her selection, I will admit that I was stunned beyond words."

  "Come on, Josie," said the dowager. "We haven't all day."

  When the screen was folded back, Josephine looked like a photograph ripped from a high-end fashion shoot. The dress had a long train which trailed past the elevated stool the fitters had provided, the bodice and skirts fitted to her slim curves without being confining. She looked beautiful and elegant, as the reaction of her mother, the coordinator, and even the silent fitters proved.

  "That's quite a stunner," said the dowager, mildly. She lifted one eyebrow — a mark of approval in this case, I gathered. "Well done, dear girl."

  "Turn towards the mirror, dearest," said Helen. Josephine did, and the reflection it offered in the bright sun and shadows of this room revealed a very young girl who looked uncomfortable and unhappy in some manner.

  Josephine's lips formed a very small smile. "It's quite perfect," she said. Then looked away quickly. "I suppose we must hurry with these alterations. I have a conference call with my solicitor about the foundation's grant." The fitters tucked and pinned in the appropriate places before she stepped behind the screen again.

  "I'm glad this was quick enough," said Marjorie, who was watching ov
er my shoulder. "Despite thick walls, you can hear every one of the dowager's words in my office, and I have a conference call with my secretary and someone from the Ministry of Finance in half an hour."

  "It certainly was." Too quick, I thought. Someone like Josephine should have looked happier to be wearing her dream wedding dress, not as if she was trying on a school uniform. Something was very wrong.

  "Maybe it's just wedding nerves," suggested Matt, in our phone conversation later that night. Already back at Rosemoor again, his visit to the castle had been far too short—with far too little time spent with the two of us together. This conversation was already longer than most of the ones we had managed to share in between the flurry of wedding details that morning.

  "If it were nerves, I don't think she would manage to be so calm on the outside," I said. "I think she's holding back something bigger. Maybe she doesn't love Kristofer. He's certainly in love with her, but that's not always a two-way street."

  "True," said Matt. "But if she doesn't really love him, she's rather waiting until the last moment to run away from her engagement."

  I pictured Josephine going through with a loveless marriage. There are worse things in the world, I suppose, but for a lot of people, that would be the beginning of a miserable future and a disastrous split. And the photos on her desk ... who was that person? A former boyfriend? Kristofer? And why were the photos all taken by means of stealth?

  "How is life other than wedding preparations?" Matt asked. "Have you seen much of the surrounding village? It's practically a historical landmark in itself, it's so well-preserved in its origins — the old tavern is more than seven hundred years old."

  "I'm afraid I don't escape very often," I said. "I'm afraid the security guards will tackle me." I was still learning to make my way around the castle as it was, having discovered a chapel with an altar and cross, a library, and a sitting room done in an alarmingly pink shade of coral, all while searching for both a modern bathroom and Ms. Krensky's temporary office.