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

“My lord,” said Priscilla, “how wonderful that you were able to join us. Let me introduce Miss Jessica Clifton, who has just become engaged to my son.”

“Lucky Clive,” said the bishop, but all Jessica could think of was how she would like to draw him in his splendid long black frock coat, purple clerical shirt and brilliant white dog-collar.

A few minutes later, the Mayor of Louth appeared. Priscilla insisted on introducing him as Councillor Patrick Smith. When Priscilla left the room to greet her final guest, the mayor whispered to Jessica, “Only my mother and Priscilla call me Patrick. I do hope you’ll call me Pat.”

And then Jessica heard a voice she could never forget.

“Darling Priscilla, it’s been far too long.”

“Far too long, darling,” agreed Priscilla.

“One just doesn’t get up to the nort

h as often as one should, and there’s so much we have to catch up on,” Virginia said as she accompanied her host into the drawing room.

After she’d introduced Virginia to the bishop and the mayor, Priscilla guided her across the room to meet Jessica. “And allow me to present Miss Jessica Clifton, who’s just become engaged to Clive.”

“Good evening, Lady Virginia. I don’t suppose you remember me.”

“How could I forget, although you must have been only seven or eight at the time. Just look at you,” she said, taking a step back. “Haven’t you grown into a beautiful young woman? You know, you remind me so much of your dear mother.” Jessica was lost for words, but it didn’t seem to matter. “And I hear such wonderful reports of your work at the Slade. How proud your parents must be.”

It was only later, much later, that Jessica began to wonder how Lady Virginia could possibly know about her work. But she’d been seduced by What a stunning dress, and Such an exquisite ring and Isn’t Clive a lucky young man.

“Another myth exploded,” said Clive as they walked into the dining room arm in arm.

Jessica wasn’t completely convinced, and was relieved to find herself seated between the mayor and the bishop, while Lady Virginia sat on Mr. Bingham’s right, at the other end of the table, far enough away to ensure Jessica would not have to hold a conversation with her. After the main course had been cleared away—there were more servants than guests—Mr. Bingham tapped his glass with a spoon and rose from his place at the head of the table.

“Today,” he began, “we welcome a new member to our family, a very special young lady who has honored my son by agreeing to be his wife. Dear friends,” he said raising his glass, “to Jessica and Clive.”

Everyone rose from their places and echoed the words, “Jessica and Clive,” and even Virginia raised her glass. Jessica wondered if it was possible to be happier.

After even more champagne had been consumed in the drawing room after dinner, the bishop made his apologies, explaining that he had a service to conduct in the morning and that he needed to go over his sermon one more time. Priscilla accompanied him and his wife to the front door, and then, a few minutes later, the mayor thanked his host and hostess, and once again congratulated the happy couple.

“Good night, Pat,” said Jessica. The mayor rewarded her with a grin before departing.

Once the mayor had left, Mr. Bingham returned to the drawing room and said to his wife, “I’m just going to take the dogs out for their evening canter, so I’ll leave you two alone. I suspect you have a lot to catch up on, as you haven’t seen each other for such a long time.”

“I think that’s a hint that we should also leave,” said Clive, who bade his mother and Lady Virginia goodnight, before accompanying Jessica upstairs to her room.

“What a triumph,” said Clive, once he’d closed the bedroom door. “Even Lady Virginia appeared to be won over. Mind you, you do look captivating in that dress.”

“Only thanks to your mother’s generosity,” said Jessica, taking one more look at herself in the long mirror.

“And don’t forget Granddad’s fish paste.”

“But where’s my beautiful shawl, the one your mother gave me?” Jessica looked around the room. “I must have left it in the drawing room. I’ll just go down and fetch it.”

“Can’t it wait until the morning?”

“Certainly not,” said Jessica. “I should never have let it out of my sight.”

“Just make sure you don’t get chatting to those two, because they’re probably already planning the finer details of our wedding.”

“I’ll only be a moment,” Jessica said as she left the room humming to herself. She skipped down the staircase and was just a few feet from the drawing-room door, which was slightly ajar, when she heard the word murderer and froze on the spot.

“The coroner’s verdict was death by misadventure, despite Sir Hugo’s body being found in a pool of blood with a letter opener sticking out of his neck.”

“And you say there’s reason to believe that Sir Hugo Barrington was her father?”