Be Careful What You Wish For (The Clifton Chronicles 4)

Jessica could only wonder how many crates of fish paste would have to be sold to cover the bills. In truth, she was very grateful for Priscilla’s generosity, but once they were alone in her room, she told Clive firmly, “This is not a lifestyle I want to indulge in for more than a couple of days.”

After lunch, Clive took her around the rest of the estate, only just getting her back in time for afternoon tea.

“Do your family ever stop eating?” asked Jessica. “I don’t know how your mother manages to stay so slim.”

“She doesn’t eat, she just picks at things. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Shall we go through the guest list for dinner?” said Priscilla once tea had been served. “The Bishop of Grimsby and his wife Maureen.” She looked up. “Of course, we’re all hoping that the bishop will perform the ceremony.”

“And what ceremony might that be, my dear?” asked Bob, winking at Jessica.

“I do wish you wouldn’t call me ‘my dear,’” said Priscilla. “It’s so common,” she added before continuing with the guest list. “The Mayor of Louth, Councillor Pat Smith. I do so disapprove of shortening Christian names. When my husband becomes High Sheriff of the county next year, I shall insist on everyone calling him Robert. And finally, my old school friend, Lady Virginia Fenwick, daughter of the Earl of Fenwick. We were debutantes in the same year, you know.”

Jessica grabbed Clive’s hand to stop herself shaking. She didn’t say another word until they were back in the safety of her room.

“What’s the matter, Jess?” asked Clive.

“Doesn’t your mother realize that Lady Virginia was Uncle Giles’s first wife?”

“Of course she does. But that was all over such a long time ago. Who gives a damn? In fact, I’m surprised you even remember her.”

“I only met her once, on the day of Grandma Elizabeth’s funeral, and the one thing I can recall is that she insisted I address her as Lady Virginia.”

“She still does that,” said Clive, trying to make light of it. “But I think you’ll find she’s mellowed a little over the years, although, I confess, she does bring out the worst in my dear mother. I know for a fact that Dad can’t stand her, so don’t be surprised if he finds any excuse to escape whenever the two of them are together.”

“I do like your dad,” said Jessica.

“And he adores you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Stop fishing. But I have to admit he’s already given me the ‘If I was twenty years younger, my boy, you wouldn’t stand a chance’ routine.”

“How kind of him.”

“It’s not kindness, he meant it.”

“I’d better get changed, otherwise we’ll be late for dinner,” said Jessica. “I’m still not sure which of the two dresses I should wear,” she added as Clive left for his room. She tried them both on, staring in the mirror for some considerable time, but she still hadn’t made a decision by the time Clive came back and asked her to help him with his bow tie.

“Which dress should I wear?” she asked helplessly.

“The blue one,” said Clive before returning to his room.

Once again she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered if there would ever be another occasion on which she could wear either one of them. Certainly not the student arts ball.

“You look fantastic,” said Clive when she finally emerged from the bathroom. “What a dress!”

“Your mother chose it,” said Jessica, twirling around.

“We’d better get a move on. I think I heard a car coming down the drive.”

Jessica picked up the cashmere shawl, draped it around her shoulders and took one more look in the mirror before they walked down the stairs hand in hand. They entered the drawing room just as there was a knock on the front door.

“Oh, you look divine in that dress,” said Priscilla, “and the shawl is just perfect. Don’t you agree, Robert?”

“Yes, just perfect, my dear,” said Bob.

Priscilla frowned as the butler opened the door and announced “The Bishop of Grimsby and Mrs. Hadley.”