by Amanda Ward
“You knew about this didn’t you!” she exclaimed. Looking from her new fiancé to her children, she saw that they had all turned red-faced. The look Laura gave her children told them that they had some explaining to do.
“I think a toast is in order ladies and gentlemen,” Graham announced after he came back with glasses filled with orange juice and champagne and he handed them out. “To the happy couple,” he said in his ‘butler’ voice as he held up his glass. Rhean, with his arm around Laura, lifted his too and with the teens holding theirs up, they all clinked and said ‘cheers.’ As Laura sipped, she relished the taste of the chilled liquid sparkling effervescently on her tongue.
“So all of you knew, then?” Laura asked again. Maisie nodded.
“Sorry Mum, Rhean swore us to secrecy.” Laura raised her eyebrows.
“And you all agreed?” she asked. Again, heads nodded. Even Graham looked guilty. “When did all this happen?” Laura asked. She refused to let the matter drop.
“A couple of days after your day out with Rhean at the grange,” Maisie explained. “Rhean came over while you were at one of your meetings. He sat us all down and told us what was going on then asked if we had any problems with it—which we don’t.”
“So all of you are happy for us?” Laura needed reassurance. She took a deep sip of her champagne for Dutch courage.
Laura’s children were individuals, yet when needed, they stuck together like glue if something upset their mother or their siblings.
“Our wedding date is set for New Year’s Eve at the grange chapel,” Rhean stated. “As for where we are going to live, my parents came up with an idea.”
Laura looked at her fiancé incredulously. She felt left out of things, as if everything had already been decided and plans made without consulting her.
“And where are we going to live?” she asked smoothly.
Theo and James immediately sat up.
“It has been suggested that we move to Park House on the estate, until it’s time to move into the grange,” Rhean explained.
“Does this mean we get our own rooms?” James burst in.
“Well, yes,” Rhean confirmed. “Park Cottage has six bedrooms, so there will be plenty of space.”
“Do I get a say in any of this?” Laura asked meekly.
“Hey, I told you weeks ago about our wedding date,” Rhean said with deceptive calm.
“I thought it was a joke!” she exclaimed.
“I never joke when it comes to you,” Rhean said quietly,”Never.” He held her hand tightly.
“Graham, could you keep an eye on the ‘Brady Bunch’ while I whisk Laura next door please?” he asked.
“Of course,” the butler replied. “I’ll make some more popcorn and we can get back to the film you so rudely interrupted,” Rhean’s devoted butler said pointedly.
Rhean stood up and took the bottle of champagne. “I have a feeling we will need this,” he muttered under his breath. “Excuse us, tribe. Your mother and I need to hash out a few details.”
To Laura’s surprise, her darling DNA just waved them off and switched the television back on.
“Thanks a bundle,” she said, sarcasm lacing her voice.
“Anytime, Mum,” chimed in James waving her off.
Rhean and Laura left her cottage and taking her hand, he led her through the garden to his front door. He opened it and switched on the light. Rhean’s cottage was the mirror opposite of Laura’s. His of course, was decorated in a more masculine way. The living room was inviting with its deep brown sumptuous leather sofa, as soft as warm butter. The cream walls held scenic paintings of Kirkleigh from the church tower. They had been painted by his sister Moira, a very talented artist. There was a large canvas portrait of Rhean’s family over the mantelpiece. The fireplace wall had been painted a deep red, making it the focus of the room. The portrait, although formal, was one of family warmth; each member wore a broad smile. They were all wearing dinner suits and long dresses with exquisite jewels. Laura had no problem picking out Rhean. Although painted a few years ago, he exhibited a masculinity and maturity far beyond his years.
“I need a drink,” he said, “Things could take a while,” he muttered and went through the dining room to the kitchen. “Want one?” he offered. Laura sat down on the large sofa practically enveloped by its softness.
“I’ll have another glass of champagne if there’s any left,” she called back. Rhean came back in carrying a champagne glass and a crystal tumbler of amber liquid that clinked with ice cubes. She took her drink and tilted her head back draining the contents in one go.
“Thirsty?” Rhean asked as he refilled it.
“So what on earth is going on?” Laura asked. “I feel totally bamboozled. What’s next? I suppose you’ve rung my parents and asked their permission.” He drank his whiskey and she could tell he was trying to look innocent.
“Oh no Rhean, you didn’t!” she exclaimed.
“It’s the proper way to do this.”
“Asking the woman after you’ve told everyone else?” she said in a sarcastic tone, her eyes flashed a deep hazel and her cheeks flushed with irritation and the champagne.
“You’re upset with me,” he said flatly.
“It’s just that I would have liked to be consulted first before you asked all and sundry if you could marry me.”
Rhean’s cheeks colored at the icy tone in her voice.
“I wanted to make sure that everyone was okay with it first,” he explained. “I just wanted to give you nothing to worry about apart from choosing your dress and turning up,” he said in a quiet voice.”If I have done something wrong, please tell me.”
“All I’ve heard tonight from you is ‘I want, I wanted. What about me, Rhean? Did you even think to ask me what I may have wanted? No, you were so confident that I would just fall in with your plans.” Laura felt furious with him. She stood up, and then sat back down.
“So what do you want Laura?” He poured himself another whiskey.
“I cannot believe tonight happened. Between you and my children, you have mapped out the rest of my life for me. Do I get a say in any of this?”
“Laura...” Rhean’s voice drifted away. He knelt in front of her and took one of her hands in his. “I’m sorry. What can I do to make things right?”
She glared at him. He had acted like a caveman, and made her feel like a total simpleton. Laura pulled her hand away and folded her arms stubbornly.
“I realize that I may have been preoccupied with other things recently, but that does not give you the right to ride roughshod over me. You should have at least discussed some of your plans with me before you spoke to my family.” Her lecture over, Laura clenched her jaw.
Seeing Rhean look so shamefaced, she realized that perhaps she had been a bit over the top. She hated being angry at anyone, and especially Rhean. Laura’s anger abated and she saw the merits of all his plans no matter how high-handed he’d been.
“It’s just that I would have liked to be consulted first before you asked all and sundry if you could marry me,” she explained.
“The Park House idea is a good one, I just wish you had run it all past me instead of giving me all the information at once.” A sudden thought popped into her mind. “What about children?” she asked in a small voice. “You will need to have one or two won’t you, to provide an heir?” Laura blushed.
“Our children? Oh god, yes.” Rhean breathed. “You have no idea how much I want children with you,” he said in a husky voice.
Laura thought for a moment, and her practical side came through. “I’ll visit my doctor and get a check-up.” Rhean smiled at her, and he brought his lips down on hers. There was a dreamy intimacy to his kiss now, as Laura succumbed to his forceful domination.
“I wish New Year’s Eve was tomorrow,” he whispered raggedly as his mouth caressed Laura’s face in soft butterfly kisses.
Chapter Six
October drew to its unseasonably warm close. The u
pcoming half-term was met with excitement from the pupils, relief from the teachers, and dread by the parents. Poppies had already gone on sale. The school supported the British Legion and the Help for Heroes appeals. During the week leading up to half-term, life became hectic. Laura was busy finding activities for her children to do during the week off. She also had two sets of visitors. Over the weekend Rhean’s parents came home from their six-month world cruise She came home from shopping on Monday to find them walking out of Rhean’s cottage. The earl and countess smiled and in a very un-aristocratic manner, rushed across the path that linked the two cottages together. The earl kissed Laura warmly on the cheek, and then took her bags. His diminutive countess pulled Laura into her arms and bear-hugged her in a manner that belied her size.
“Oh, we are so pleased for you both!” she cried in a broad Irish accent. “Aren’t we darlin?” Maire looked at her husband. “ Go on Hugo, open the door for us ladies. ’Tis parched I am.” Laura handed her keys to the earl, who opened the door.
“Mam, you have just drunk a gallon of tea watching for Laura to come home,” Rhean said, appearing suddenly along the path. He picked up the rest of the bags and walked inside. He winked at Laura who’d dressed for the weather in jeans and a lilac jumper, over which she wore a thick, cream, wool, cardigan. Like Laura, he wore jeans but with a long striped Rugby shirt. It was opened at the top and she could see the tantalizing whorls of dark hair escaping. Her fingers ached to run through them and pull gently. Down Laura down, she thought wondering what had gotten into her recently. Each time she saw Rhean, she felt as though she wanted to drag him to the nearest chair and ravish him senseless. Laura blushed at the thoughts running riot through her mind.
“Can never have enough tea, son, especially on a day like today,” his mother called.
“’Tis the one thing that was missing from the cruise, a decent-sized mug of tea,” she explained. Maire put her arm around Laura’s waist and together they walked into the cottage out of the cold.
Laura and her future mother-in-law were in the kitchen making the tea and putting the shopping away. Rhean and his father were talking in deep low tones in the dining room. Laura heard Percy’s name mentioned a few times, and Hugo’s voice grew hard.
“Ah, this is what I have missed,” Maire sighed as she put away some bacon and sausages in the fridge.
“What’s that?” Laura asked regarding Countess Maire Leighton. Barely five feet in height, she exuded warmth and friendliness. Her raven black hair liberally streaked with gray, and her voluptuous figure outfitted in a long gypsy skirt of deep purple and a long tunic top with blue tones. The outfit was elegant, timeless and flattering.
“I’ve missed doing all the normal things for my family.” Marie sighed and glanced at Laura. “Now, just because I have a title doesn’t mean I sit around all day being waited on hand and foot Laura. I have been known to stock my fridge up occasionally.”
“See Hugo,” she called. “We could have been eating these, watching a good film rather than all those fancy mean portions they served on the ship,” Maire grumbled good-naturedly.
“Yes dear,” her husband replied complacently and the murmurs from the dining room started up again.
When Laura and Maire finished putting away the shopping, Maire made the tea and they went into the living room.
“What is going on with Percy?” Laura asked. “I hope I’m not overstepping...”
Maire made a ‘tsking’ sound.
“Don’t be silly, you are family now,” she interrupted. “Hugo and I will explain. I’ll just get this tea poured.”
The earl and countess sat beside each other while Rhean sat at the head of the dining table with Laura next to him. There was silence as they sipped their tea. Then the earl put his mug down on the table.
“Well son, you don’t need to hear it again from me how pleased we are about the engagement,” the earl began. An older version of his son, his height was on par with Rhean’s. His voice had a distinct upper class tone to it, and he pronounced each word precisely. His light brown hair, streaked with gray at the temples, added to his dignity and standing. Hugo Tate, Earl Leighton, was a man with unquestionable power in the country. His prowess as a barrister and then QC was legendary. Since his retirement, Hugo became an academic. He spent most of his time building up the grange library and mentoring future barristers, between lecturing at various universities across the country. As he spent most of his time in suits, when he had the chance to, Hugo wore corduroys, rugby shirts and trainers. Hugo still managed to look aristocratic when wearing even the most casual outfits.
“I gather the wedding is on New Year’s Eve,” Maire chimed in. “If you married mid-morning, we could have a formal lunch and then use the party that evening as the reception.” A wistful smiled appeared on her face. “Ah Hugo, do you remember ours?” She reached out and took Laura’s hand. “Married we were, just before Hugo left to go home. Near the brook at the bottom of our garden, with only my mam, dad and brother as witnesses.”
Laura stared at Hugo and Maire incredulously.
“Didn’t your parents mind?” she asked Hugo.
Hugo took his wife’s other hand and kissed it.
“Of course not. I went to Ireland a single-minded, disillusioned man. When I came back home, it was as a man in love, married and with a purpose.” He continued, “My parents loved Maire on sight as we do you. She may not have been the perfect viscountess or countess, but she is my perfect wife. As you are for Rhean,” he finished and held his mug up. “Cheers to you both.”
Laura smiled. She wasn’t really used to public displays of affection. Her parents had been rather strict with her, and very distant with each other.
“It sounds like everything’s taken care of,” she said.
Marie started ticking points off on her fingers.
“You’ll need a dress, of course. The children will need new outfits. There’s the engagement party to plan for as well, and the announcement in the paper?” Maire looked at her son.
“Taken care of,” he replied. “It went in today.” Laura looked at Rhean and raised her eyebrows.
“Oh great. Is there anything that I can do that hasn’t already been done?” she asked in a sarcastic tone.
“Choose a dress and show up on the day,” Rhean told her in a smug voice.
Laura cocked her head at him.
“One day, Rhean, your arrogance is going to blow up in your face,” she challenged him
“Oh will it?” he teased,
“Yes it will,” Laura teased back.
He laughed and kissed her soundly on the mouth.
“I think we’d better leave the women to sort out the fine details,” Hugo said.
The atmosphere became lighter and Laura just started to relax with her future in-laws, when there was a knock on the door. Laura went to stand up, but Rhean put his hand on hers to stop her.
“I’ll go,” he said. “Why don’t you get the champagne out of the fridge so we can really celebrate?”
“Aren’t you working today?” Laura called as Rhean went to answer the front door.
“I’m working from home!” he called back. “Very hard.”
“I can see you working your fingers to the bone,” Laura said. She reached into the fridge and found several bottles of expensive champagne chilling. “Expecting company, are we?” she muttered to no one in particular.
“I don’t think we qualify as ʻcompany,ʼ” said a very familiar voice that Laura hadn’t heard in ages. She turned round from the fridge and saw her mother.
“Mum!” she exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here?” Laura hugged her mother warmly. She quite forgot her mother wasn’t an affectionate woman. To Laura’s surprise, she returned the hug in equal measure.
“We heard via the grapevine that you were engaged, so your father and I decided to visit and find out,” her mother explained. “Your father is in the dining room getting acquainted with your fiancé and future
in-laws,” she said with a smile on her face. Sophia Wainwright was a formidable woman. Wearing a long suede skirt, black boots and a cowl neck tunic in a deep purple color, she was tall in stature with a temper to match her red hair. She had green eyes and her lined face had a smattering of freckles that belied her sixty-two years. She was the leader of the women’s fellowship at her local church, and chairwoman of the mother’s union. Very much alike in temperament to James, Laura and Sophia often locked horns during her teenage years. This though, had deepened, as the years went by, into a mutual respect. Since she’d found out the reason for Laura’s divorce, Sophia had gained a softness which Laura now needed. She handed two bottles to her mother and found enough glasses. They went into the dining room where Hugo and Rhean did the honors of opening the wine with loud, festive pops.
Laura hugged her father warmly. He was short, stocky and heavyset. A thick gray mustache took pride of place on Paul’s top lip, his gray hair cropped short. At seventy the retired bus driver and ex-army sergeant was in perfect health. He was the indulgent parent and loved both Laura and her sister very much. He had a large tattoo on his bicep of his old regiment’s badge, to the chagrin of his wife. He dressed sensibly for the long journey from Bedfordshire, and so the lightweight jacket with jeans and a striped jumper was perfect.
Paul Wainwright’s mustache tickled Laura’s cheek as he kissed her warmly. He held her away from him, and said in a deep gruff voice,”So what’s this we hear about you being engaged?” Taking her hand he looked at the ring sparkling in the late morning sunshine.
“Oh Laura, it’s beautiful,” her mother said. “It looks very old.”
“It is,” replied Maire,”It was Lady Clarissa’s engagement ring.” When Sophia looked puzzled Maire explained, “Lady Clarissa was the 10th Countess Leighton in 1775.”
“Countess!” Sophia exclaimed. “What’s going on?” she asked. “They never said anything about a countess.” Sophia looked at her husband who shook his head.
