Doubting Abbey

‘There you go,’ said Lady C, voice brighter. ‘Things are off to a jolly good start. All we need to do is talk through some simple recipes.’

Which we did, for what felt like hours. The trouble was, I’d never baked a cake and bought pastry ready-made. I got white sauce out of a jar and mistook broccoli for cauliflower. Finally, Lady C gave up and said she’d call me early the following day. Overnight, she’d study her cookery books, determined to find some impressive dishes that looked more complicated than they actually were.

My stomach gurgled loudly. I wasn’t used to missing lunch and suddenly craved a kebab with a triple chocolate milkshake. Someone rapped at the door. I smoothed down my polo shirt.

‘Enter,’ I said, my voice a bit wobbly. Perhaps they’d sussed out my fake collapse.

The door opened. Honey curls appeared and Edward walked in with my suitcase.

‘You look better,’ he said, a brief flash of relief in his eyes. He put down my luggage. ‘No doubt Kathleen will insist you have some of her Scotch Broth.’

‘Thank you, Cousin.’ My cheeks burned. ‘Um, apologies for before…’

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again. Health problems don’t make for good television. The Croxleys are old school. We don’t get ill—certainly not in public.’

Huh? For a second, my shame evaporated! ‘Thanks for the concern,’ I said, unable to hide a strong hint of sarcasm that I’d never heard Abbey use.

‘You might mean that when you hear I’ve persuaded Gaynor to cut that unsavoury scene from tomorrow night’s show.’

Was he bonkers? That was good telly. ‘Um, Teddy…’

He scowled.

‘Edward… That’s just the sort of footage that makes a reality show – according to my lodger, Gemma,’ I hastened to add. ‘She’s a big fan of that genre. From what I can gather, it’s the dramatic bits that gain viewers. It’s not a serious illness and my, um, medication helps. Don’t edit it out on my behalf.’

‘I didn’t, Abigail. It’s to uphold the family reputation.’

‘It’s Abbey,’ I said, meeting his scowl.

‘Throughout history, Croxley women have been strong,’ he said and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘They are stoic in the midst of war, resourceful during economic downturns, uncomplaining in the face of disease…’ His voice wavered. ‘You only had to see the way my mother carried herself during her last months. It does our image no good to have you drop to the floor because you… you felt out of sorts.’

It could have been some serious brain condition, for all he cared. Yet my fists didn’t curl for long as I reminded myself that I had been acting, plus I’d noticed how the mention of his mum made his chin give a teeny wobble.

‘You must miss the Countess terribly,’ I said. ‘When did she…?’

‘Die?’ His body stiffened. ‘I’m sorry that part of our family history has slipped your memory. Or perhaps your father never found it important enough to explain.’

Of course—Abbey would have at least known that. Urgh. Poor bloke. My stomach twisted really tight.

‘No… I mean…’ I cleared my throat. ‘I was just going to ask: when did she first receive the diagnosis?’ I guessed she’d had the Big C. ‘Father didn’t give me many details and, as you know…’ blagging for my life, here ‘… with the estrangement between our parents, attending the funeral proved to be, sadly, quite impossible.’

‘Granted.’ His cheek twitched. ‘From start to finish, the cancer took three years to take her from Father and me. Two years next month she’s been gone. Mother was only fifty-five.’

A lump rose in my throat as Edward’s eyes looked all dull. Wow. How tragic. Nowadays, fifty-five was like the new forty. And if anyone knew what life was like without a mum it was me.

‘How old was she when your parents married?’ I tucked a loose dyed blonde curl behind my ear. The Earl must have been a right sugar daddy.

‘Twenty-three, I think. Father was forty-two.’

We sat in silence for a few seconds, before I rummaged in my handbag.

‘My hairbrush—it was in here earlier…’ I must have looked a right mess and totally unladylike. With a sigh, I pulled out all the pins, and locks of hair dropped around my face. Lady C would not have been impressed.

‘Here,’ said Edward in a gruff voice as he approached and slipped an elastic band from his wrist. He sat on the bed, turned me away from him and deftly twisted my hair at either side before tying it all together at the back with the elastic band.

‘Um…thank you so much,’ I said and turned back to him, wondering why tingles ran up and down my spine.

‘I used to do that for Mother,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘Especially at the end, when she was bed-bound.’ He stood up and cleared his throat. ‘Kathleen will be up in a minute. Please be in formal dress and downstairs for seven sharp at the latest. Viscount Hamilton-Brown and his family will be here at six-thirty for drinks.’ The door shut behind him.

What an oddball he was – one minute so gentle, the next abrupt and stand-offish.

I leapt off the bed to gaze out of the window. My bedroom was at the back of the house and looked down onto the cutest courtyard with fancy flower pots and intricate metal benches. Jean stood in the ornamental gardens, weeding flower beds. Nick was further away, working in a regimented vegetable patch. To the left was the maze Abbey had mentioned and in the distance was a forested area, just in front of which was… I squinted…grey headstones, fenced off. Aha—the family cemetery.

My eyes headed back to Nick. He looked shorter than Edward, with a stockier build and more cheerful face – less typically attractive than my supposed cousin, but there was a certain charisma, an air of being confident with women.

He called out something to Jean. She laughed and he grinned back. Nick would need a sense of humour if he was going to agree to my plan. How on earth was I going to catch the gardener alone and put forward my mega idea ASAP, i.e. before dinner tonight?

Another knock at the door interrupted my plotting and Kathleen entered with her yummy broth. Weird it was, calling her by her first name while she addressed me as Miss Croxley, but Lady C had drilled into me that etiquette about names and titles was especially important with staff. So, after I’d done my best to convince her I felt fine and there was no need to worry, we talked about the evening’s dinner. Like a nanny, Kathleen hovered until I’d cleared the soup bowl and, thanks to her warm down-to-earth chat, tension seeped out of my shoulders and my bedroom began to feel more homely. For the first time I felt I could cope with two weeks living in this building.

After she left, I took a leisurely shower and changed into one of Abbey’s smart black dresses. Its round neckline was modest but low enough to show a little shoulder. Freakily, it went down to the ground, covering every inch of my legs, although it had always looked kind of classy on Abbey. At least it had short sleeves, otherwise I might have really fainted from the heat.

I pinned up my hair again and put on Abbey’s crystal necklace and matching earrings. I applied a small squirt of perfume and a subtle shade of eyeshadow, just like my best bud would. It was six-fifteen. My mouth felt dry. Ahead of me was a whole evening of pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Inhale. Exhale. Feeling calmer, I left my bedroom and headed along a high ceilinged corridor, actually feeling rather grown-up and glamorous. Halfway down the winding mahogany staircase—yay!—I bumped into Nick!

‘Miss Croxley,’ he said and gave a smile. Flecks of soil covered his T-shirt. ‘Nice to see you’ve recovered,’ he said in a concerned voice.

‘Thank you. Kathleen’s broth has revived me.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Actually, I was hoping to catch you.’

He raised one eyebrow.

‘About earlier,’ I said. ‘Me pretending that you and I spent time together last year…’

Nick held up the palm of his hand. ‘Please, Miss Croxley. I get it. We’ve all been briefed about how we need to make it look as if you are a regular visitor.’

‘It’s not just that… Can I be quite frank? May I speak to you in confidence?’

‘No problem, Miss.’ Nick’s eyes twinkled and I couldn’t help smiling – which was great. I’d always been won over by blokes who could make me laugh. A good sense of humour beat looks for me every time. I mean, there was only so much a six-pack could do after a crap day at work, whereas a joke…

‘Thank you, Nick. It’s just that… According to Roxy, Applebridge Hall isn’t the favourite to win. She suggested… Please do excuse the phrase…that somehow the Croxley family…forgive me, but, um, sex things up.’

His eyes widened.

A bubble of laughter tickled inside my chest. Oh, God—mustn’t laugh. In fact, thinking about it, this wasn’t funny at all. I was putting myself on the line here – my true identity might well and truly be rumbled. ‘I know – it’s a terribly crass idea, but I want to do everything possible to help my family. So, I was thinking that, well…’ How would he take this? Be offended? Amused? Or suss out straight away that I’m no real aristocrat? ‘… a secret affair between a Croxley and a member of staff might improve ratings.’

Nick’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you proposing, Miss, that you and I…?’

My heart raced. ‘Exactly. It would be purely for the cameras, of course, and more suggestion than action. It pains me to resort to such tactics, but my family’s heritage is at stake.’

I waited, imagining the disdain of Edward if he’d been listening, hoping that I was right in thinking that good-humoured Nick was the opposite of judgemental. The gardener stared for a moment and scratched his unshaven chin, which was kind of sexy and something you’d never find on Lord Clean-cut, Edward.