“In the next room. But as you can see, there’s a connecting door, because this is where the earl’s mistress used to sleep; so I’ll be joining you later.”
“No, you won’t,” said Jessica mockingly, “although I rather like the idea of being an earl’s mistress.”
“Not a chance,” said Clive, falling to one knee. “You’re going to have to be satisfied with being Mrs. Bingham, the fish-paste princess.”
“You’re not proposing again, are you, Clive?”
“Jessica Clifton, I adore you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I hope you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
“Of course I will,” said Jessica, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around him.
“You’re meant to hesitate and think about it for a moment.”
“I haven’t been thinking about much else for the past six months.”
“But I thought—”
“It’s never been you, silly. I couldn’t love you any more if I wanted to. It’s just that…”
“Just what?”
“When you’re an orphan, you’re bound to wonder—”
“You are so silly sometimes, Jess. I fell in love with you, and I don’t give a damn who your parents are, or were. Now let go of me, as I have a little surprise for you.”
Jessica released her fiancé, who took out a red leather box from an inside pocket. She opened it, and burst out laughing when she saw the pot of Bingham’s Fish Paste. The paste even the fishermen eat.
“Perhaps you should look inside,” he suggested.
She unscrewed the lid, and stuck a finger into the paste. “Yuck,” she said, and then pulled out an exquisite Victorian sapphire and diamond engagement ring. “Oh. I bet you won’t find one of these in every jar. It’s so beautiful,” she said after she’d licked it clean.
“It was my grandmother’s. Betsy was a local Grimsby girl who Granddad married when he was working on a fishing trawler, long before he made his fortune.”
Jessica was still staring at the ring. “It’s far too good for me.”
“Betsy wouldn’t have thought so.”
“But what about your mother? How will she feel when she sees it?”
“It was her idea,” said Clive. “So let’s go down and tell them the news.”
“Not yet,” said Jessica, taking him in her arms.
24
AFTER BREAKFAST THE following morning, Clive took his fiancée for a walk around the grounds of Mablethorpe Hall, but they could only manage the garden and the lake, before Clive’s mother whisked Jessica off to go shopping in Louth.
“Remember, every time the till rings, just think of it as another crate of fish paste,” said Clive as she climbed into the back of the car next to Priscilla.
By the time they returned to Mablethorpe Hall for a late lunch, Jessica was laden down with bags and boxes, containing two dresses, a cashmere shawl, a pair of shoes and a tiny black evening bag.
“For the dinner tonight,” Priscilla explained.
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.”
“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?”
“No question about it. And frankly, his death came as something of a relief for the family, because he was just about to go on trial for fraud if he had, the company would have undoubtedly gone under.”
“I had absolutely no idea.”
“And that’s not the half of it, my darling, because Jessica’s mother then committed suicide to avoid being charged with Sir Hugo’s murder.”
“I just can’t believe it. She seemed such a respectable girl.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t get any better if you take a closer look at the Clifton side of the family. Harry Clifton’s mother was a well-known prostitute, so he’s never been quite sure who his father was. In normal circumstances I wouldn’t have mentioned any of this,” continued Virginia, “but you don’t need a scandal at this particular time.”
“At this particular time?” queried Priscilla.
“Yes. I have it on good authority that the prime minister is considering putting Robert up for a knighthood, which would of course mean you’d be Lady Bingham.”
Priscilla thought about that for a few moments before she said, “Do you think Jessica knows the truth about her parents? Clive has never so much as hinted at any suggestion of scandal.”
“Of course she knew, but she never intended to tell you or Clive. The little hussy was hoping to get a gold band on her finger before any of this became public. Haven’t you noticed how she’s been winding Robert around her little finger? Promising to paint his portrait was nothing less than a masterstroke.”
Jessica stifled a sob, turned and quickly fled back upstairs.
“What on earth’s the matter, Jess?” Clive asked as she came running into the bedroom.
“Lady Virginia’s been telling your mother that I’m the daughter of a murderer … who killed my father,” she said between sobs. “That … that my grandmother used to be a prostitute and that I’ve only ever been interested in getting my hands on your money.”
Clive took her in his arms and tried to calm her, but she was inconsolable. “Leave this to me,” he said, letting go of her and pulling on his dressing gown. “I’m going to tell my mother I don’t give a damn what Lady Virginia thinks, because nothing is going to stop me marrying you.” He held her in his arms once again, before walking out of the bedroom and marching downstairs straight into the drawing room.
“What’s this pack of lies you’ve been spreading about my fiancée?” he demanded, looking directly at Lady Virginia.
“It’s nothing more than the truth,” replied Virginia calmly. “I thought it was better that your mother found out before you were married, rather than after, when it would be too late.”
“But to suggest that Jessica’s mother was a murderer…”
“Not that difficult to check up on.”
“And her grandmother was a prostitute?”
“I’m afraid that’s common knowledge in Bristol.”
“Well, I don’t give a damn,” said Clive. “I adore Jess, and to hell with the consequences, because I can tell you, Lady Virginia, you won’t stop me marrying her.”
“Clive, darling,” said his mother calmly, “I would think about it for a moment before you make such a rash decision.”
“I don’t need to think about marrying the most perfect creature on earth.”
“But if you were to marry this woman, what would you expect to live on?”
“Fourteen hundred a year will be more than enough.”
“But a thousand pounds of that is an allowance from your father, and when he hears…”
“Then we’ll have to get by on my salary. Other people seem to manage it.”
“Has it never crossed your mind, Clive, where that four hundred pounds comes from?”
“Yes, Curtis Bell and Getty, and I earn every penny of it.”
“Do you really believe that particular agency would employ you if it didn’t have the B
ingham’s Fish Paste account?”
Clive was silenced for a moment. “Then I’ll have to get another job,” he eventually managed.
“And where do you think you’d live?”
“In my flat, of course.”
“But for how long? You must be aware that the lease on Glebe Place expires in September. I know it was your father’s intention to renew it, but given the circumstances…”
“You can keep the damned flat, Mother. You won’t come between Jess and me.” He turned his back on them both, walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him. He then ran upstairs, hoping to reassure Jessica that nothing had changed, and to suggest that they drive back to London immediately. He looked in both bedrooms, but she was nowhere to be seen. On her bed were two dresses, a small evening bag, a pair of shoes, an engagement ring and a drawing of his father. He ran back downstairs to find his father standing in the hall, unable to hide his anger.
“Have you seen Jess?”
“I have. But I’m afraid nothing I could say was going to stop her leaving. She told me what that dreadful woman said, and who can blame the poor girl for not wanting to spend another night under this roof. I asked Burrows to drive her to the station. Get dressed and go after her, Clive. Don’t lose her, because you’ll never find anyone like that again.”
Clive sprinted back upstairs as his father headed toward the drawing room.
“Have you heard Virginia’s news, Robert?” Priscilla asked as he entered the room.
“I most certainly have,” he said, turning to face Virginia. “Now listen to me carefully, Virginia. You will leave this house immediately.”
“But, Robert, I was only trying to help my dear friend.”
“You were doing nothing of the sort, and you know it. You came here with the sole purpose of ruining that young girl’s life.”
“But, Robert darling, Virginia is my oldest friend…”
“Only when it suits her. Don’t even think about defending the woman, otherwise you can go with her, and then you’ll soon find out just how much of a friend she is.”
Virginia rose from her place and walked slowly toward the door. “I’m so sorry to have to say, Priscilla, I won’t be visiting you again.”