Page 38 of A Colourful Country Escape
Chapter 20
Lexie wanted to be involved in the ‘suitable wife’ interrogations like a turkey wanted to be stuffed.
She’d been hoping to nip off and work on some blog posts, just as soon as she’d deposited Mrs Moon into Mrs Carrington-Noble’s care. Yet, when she saw the elderly housekeeper being dumped with a list of jobs before the lady of the manor swanned off to have her bob tonged, she felt too guilty to leave Mrs Moon struggling. Lexie tried not to think of the joy Mrs Carrington-Noble would get from keeping her in her place.
‘Why do the Carringtons have a room dedicated to balls, when Mrs Carrington-Noble has surely never been jolly enough to cha-cha?’ Lexie hissed at Mrs Moon as they dragged another pot of white lilies from the main house into the high-ceilinged ballroom, where the tomfoolery was due to take place. ‘And why does she still insist on ordering flowers for the place when she doesn’t even live here?’
They were hoping the scent of the flowers would detract from the fusty smell that hung in the air, but in fact they’d just made it smell even more like a funeral. Perhaps that was fitting.
‘Oh, nobody’s danced in here for quite some time,’ Mrs Moon replied. ‘Sad, really.’
Lexie could quite believe that, from all the last-minute dusting she’d felt moved to help Mrs Moon with. Sad was exactly the word. The decadent gold leaf that seemed to adorn every cornice had lost its happy sparkle, and even the huge grandfather clock had stopped bothering to tick. It was like a room without a heart. Which was apt, thought Lexie, as she batted another image of Ben from her mind.
When Mrs Carrington-Noble returned with her well-coiffed mane and installed herself on an extravagant chair, Lexie and Mrs Moon escaped to the hallway to oversee the queue of hopefuls.
‘Oh, you get yourself away now, dear. You’ve done more than enough.’ Mrs Moon puffed as she began wheeling her tea trolley up and down, serving refreshments.
As much as Lexie felt icky shuffling around these well-to-do women in her thrift-shop jumper dress, poor Mrs Moon looked exhausted. And what if a fight broke out? Some of these women looked as keen as vultures. Who knew what could occur if they got their claws out.
‘I’ll stay,’ Lexie insisted, taking over the handles of the trolley to give her comrade a break. Besides, she quite fancied a snoop. She just hoped curiosity didn’t always kill the cat.
It turned out to be a bit of a wild morning. But then, if they insisted on lining the ballroom walls with actual gold they could expect a few gold-diggers. Lexie was sure she’d never been more right about money turning people ugly. It was like the old days in her snobby senior school all over again, with rich girls peering down their noses at her. Well. She was glad not to be part of their world.
The morning had brought bitching and bickering, and Lexie had been bossed around like a handmaid. At one point she’d even had to play bouncer, when two so-called ladies descended into a cake-flinging match.
What a waste of Victoria sponge.
It was just as well Lexie had stuck around, at least for Mrs Moon’s sake.
And as much as Lexie was willing herself not to get sucked into the pantomime like some floor-sweeping Cinders, she couldn’t help sizing up the players. Just out of sheer boredom, of course.
‘There’s the lady who collects those funny bugs,’ Mrs Moon hissed. ‘She’s made a packet selling rare ones.’
Lexie tried her best to spark up a conversation, but concluded that hanging around with dead stuff had killed the woman’s sense of fun.
‘Is that one wearing mourning clothes?’ whispered Mrs Moon, pointing at a lady who looked like a spidery black widow.
Had she just killed and eaten her husband? Ben could be annoying, but Lexie didn’t want him murdered for his fortune.
And then a honey-haired twenty-something breezed into the waiting area with the elegance of a very pretty swan, but none of the show-offy-ness. Lexie couldn’t help falling a little bit in love with her swishy orange skirt, which looked vintage in a very designer way.
‘I’m Grace,’ she said, waving away Lexie’s hand and going in for a hug. ‘Sorry, shaking hands makes me feel nervous. I just needed some love.’
Lexie smiled.
Grace.It suited her.
Within moments, Grace was raiding the trolley for cake and insisting on serving some up to Lexie and Mrs Moon too. Well, it had been a long morning.
‘Ooh, she looks like you, dear,’ Mrs Moon whispered as Grace was busy with the cake slice. ‘If you’d won the lottery and grown your hair like a proper lady.’ The housekeeper nodded at Lexie’s pixie cut, the ends of which Lexie had recently dyed blue in a rebellion against goodness knew what.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Lexie murmured back. ‘She’s got far better genes.’
Lexie had to admit, Grace had far better everything. From her zebra-print boots to her perfectly matching manicure, this woman was flawless. As Grace started pouring tea and nattering away about what a lovely place Nutgrass Hall would be with a lick of colour, Lexie couldn’t help but warm to her.
When Grace told them who her family was, Mrs Moon mouthed ‘multi-millionaires’ at Lexie. Grace shared stories of her travels and adventures, and Lexie soon wondered with a pang if Grace was the perfect Yin–Yang opposite for Ben. But why the painful twinge?
Lexie gave herself a shake. Surely it was just that she wanted to keep Grace all to herself. Yes, exactly. It definitely wasn’t from a reluctance to see Ben paired off.
