Christmas At Pemberley: And the Bride Wore Prada

Natalie excused herself and made her way upstairs to the en suite bathroom she shared with Rhys. She was anxious to do the test before he returned.

She had to know if she were pregnant or not.

As she opened the test kit, she wondered where her husband had disappeared to. With a quick glance at the directions – how difficult was it to wee on a stick, after all? – Natalie did what needed to be done, then went into the bedroom to wait for the results.

She prowled the room. She checked her email. She sat and stared out the window at the snow.

It was the longest three minutes of her life.

When she returned to the bathroom and reached out with an unsteady hand for the stick, she scarcely dared to breathe. She was almost afraid to look. Could it be? Could it possibly be?

She turned it over; two thin blue lines met her gaze. Natalie stared at it, scarcely able to comprehend the enormity of what she saw. She was really pregnant, then. There could be no question.

She left the bathroom and sank down on the end of the bed. There was no need to go and see Dr MacTavish; no need to schedule an appointment. She’d arrange to see an obstetrician just as soon as they returned to London.

Natalie’s thoughts whirled. She’d need prenatal vitamins, and an examination, and she’d need to start shopping straight away for lots of adorable little baby things...

...but she’d have to tell Rhys, of course. He’d want to go along with her to see the doctor, she knew he would.

First, she thought with a tiny flutter of uncertainty, she had to find her husband, and tell him that there could be no doubt.

She was definitely, unquestionably pregnant.

Chapter 16 (#ulink_bc8ad701-6ed7-5ed0-8ec1-05ed6b502e18)

As everyone assembled in the dining room for luncheon, Natalie took the chair Rhys held out for her.

She longed to tell him her news. But he’d only just walked in. Besides, she could hardly discuss something of such import with him in the middle of Draemar’s enormous dining room.

‘Where did you disappear to this morning, Rhys?’ she asked instead as she picked up her napkin and smoothed it over her lap.

‘I had a look around the castle.’ He took a sip of water and offered nothing further.

‘And what do you think of our wee castle, Mr Gordon?’ Archibald enquired. ‘Being that you’re a fellow Scotsman, I’m curious to know your opinion.’

‘I don’t know much about castles, I’m afraid. I grew up in a tower block in Edinburgh. It was nothing like this, I can assure you.’

‘That must’ve been difficult.’ Laird Campbell eyed him with interest. ‘Nevertheless...you made your way out of there and went on to become a highly regarded businessman.’ He raised his wine glass. ‘That’s a heroic accomplishment in my book.’

‘Thank you.’ Rhys took a sip of his wine and glanced around the table. ‘I found an interesting room during my explorations this morning, at the top of the west tower. There were books, and a desk, as well as some intriguing paraphernalia – Maori weapons, a didgeridoo, even a West African talking drum.’

Tarquin glanced up. ‘That was my brother Andrew’s study, Mr Gordon,’ he said quietly.

There was an awkward silence.

‘I see,’ Rhys murmured. ‘I apologize. I’d no idea. I shouldn’t have gone poking about like I did.’

‘Nonsense,’ Penelope Campbell reassured him, and smiled as the soup course arrived. ‘Andrew’s been gone for eighteen years, Mr Gordon. I keep meaning to clear his things away, but...’ her words trailed off. ‘I can’t quite bring myself to do it. By leaving everything exactly as it is, I can pretend that he might come back.’

‘Excuse me.’

They looked up to see Colm standing in the doorway, flat cap in hand. ‘I’ve brought in your luggage and left it in the entrance hall, Laird Campbell,’ he said.

‘Good man. Come in,’ Archibald invited him.

Helen sipped her wine and studied Colm over the rim of the glass as he took a couple of wary steps into the dining room. Although his face remained impassive, he looked a bit out of his element, like a thief at a policemen’s ball.

‘Join us for lunch, MacKenzie?’ Laird Campbell asked.

‘Thank you, no.’ Colm’s words were polite but firm. ‘I’ve work to be doing. If there’s nothing else?’

‘No, not a thing. Off you go, then, and thank you.’

And as he left, striding past Laird Campbell on his way out, Helen was suddenly struck by the resemblance between Colm MacKenzie and his employer. They were roughly the same height and build, with the same dark-ginger hair; they even shared the same long Campbell nose.

Why had she not noticed it before?

Was the resemblance merely coincidence? Or was it, perhaps, something more?

Before she could ponder the matter further, the main course arrived, carried in by Mrs Neeson, the housekeeper, who was lending a hand in the kitchen, and Helen had no choice but to put her curiosity aside and join in the conversation around the table.

‘We just got another of them odd phone calls,’ the housekeeper informed Mrs Campbell as she deposited the food and turned to go.

Penelope frowned. ‘Odd? How so?’

‘When I answer, they don’t say nary a word.’ Mrs Neeson shook her head in irritation. ‘But someone’s there all the same; I can hear ’em breathing.’

‘Perhaps it’s a naughty phone call,’ Gemma suggested with a smirk.

Mrs Neeson snorted. ‘If that’s what our mystery caller has in mind, he’s barking up the wrong tree, he is.’ She turned and sailed back out the door in high dudgeon.

‘How do you like Scotland so far?’ Mrs Campbell asked her assembled guests as she reached for her glass.

‘It’s lovely,’ Natalie enthused.

‘Gorgeous,’ Helen agreed. ‘So picturesque!’

‘So much bloody snow,’ Dominic grumbled.

Penelope smiled. ‘I quite understand how you feel. When I married Archie and he first brought me up here from London, I thought I’d never get used to it. It snowed constantly. The castle was terribly cold all that first winter. The boiler was temperamental; when it died, we had to stay in the drawing room and kitchen, huddled by the fireplace, until it was replaced. Every night, we slept under a massive pile of eiderdowns.’

‘It sounds very romantic,’ Gemma observed.

‘Oh, it was. Although at the time I didn’t think so. I didn’t know a shooting brake from a motor scooter, did I, darling?’ Penelope turned to Archie with a smile. ‘I was so incredibly stupid!’

‘My wee Sassenach,’ her husband said fondly, and reached out to cover her hand with his. ‘You were a Londoner, I dinnae expect you to know about such things. Did you know,’ he told the others, pride plain in his voice, ‘that my lovely wife was once a model?’

‘A model?’ Natalie echoed, and leant forward. ‘How exciting.’ She studied the woman’s dark-auburn hair and green eyes. ‘I thought your face looked familiar, somehow.’