“Oh, my God! That’s amazing!” Cara shrieks, but then must remember that the reason I’m telling her is because I’ve been fired, and she goes back to being solemn.
“The story about her doing drugs,” Mum says. “They think you leaked that to the press?”
“Yeah, they do.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Not in their minds.”
“Lady Cordelia Swann,” Cara mutters, under her breath. “Holy crap.”
“Don’t they own that big estate up in Derbyshire? Dashwell Hall?” Dad asks, clicking his fingers.
I confirm that they do and he seems pleased with himself for working out the puzzle all on his own.
“I can’t believe that all this time you’ve been hanging out with Lady Cordelia Swann. And her brother! Lord Dashwell…” Her eyes widen. “Ooooh.”
“So that’s that,” I say, exhaling. “I was given the opportunity to be a part of the wedding of the decade and it’s over.”
“Oh, Sophie,” Mum says, with so much feeling that hot tears prickle behind my eyes.
“None of that is your fault,” Dad points out. “It’s a misunderstanding. They think you did something you didn’t.”
“I tried to explain that when it all happened but they wouldn’t listen. I can sort of see why they would point the finger at me. I was the only new person in their circle who learned anything about Cordelia and her past,” I say vaguely, not wanting to confirm whether what the press had said was true. “It couldn’t have been worse timing. But I thought… I thought Cordelia, at least, knew me better than that. I was wrong. I guess none of it matters now. They’re all in Derbyshire. The wedding is New Year’s Eve.”
“You know what? Good riddance,” Mum says, sitting up straight with a fresh batch of energy. “If they think you could do something like that and they’re not prepared to see reason, that’s their own fault.”
“Yeah!” Cara says enthusiastically. “And you hated working for her anyway. She was the biggest Bridezillaever.Remember what she put you through? You don’t want to support her on her wedding day. She doesn’t deserve you.”
“I don’t know. All that stuff was a stupid defense mechanism on her part. She was trying to force me to quit because she’s afraid to let new people in. Her old friends deserted her, so she didn’t think it was safe getting close to anyone. But once she decided to trust me, she was really great to hang out with. She’s got a brilliant sense of humor—she’d get on well with you, Cara. She forced me out of my comfort zone, too.” I pause, and add quietly, “I’ll miss her.”
Mum and Cara exchange a look. Dad sits back in the armchair, sipping his tea.
“Anyway,” I say, brightening, “I wanted to tell you to get it offmy chest. Now, I’m going to move on. I’m snapping out of this horrible mood. Plenty of weddings to keep me busy next year and lots to get excited about.”
Cara smiles encouragingly. “You’re right. It’s going to be a wonderful year. I can sense it. You’re much better off. Who needs Cordelia Swann’s family?”
“Exactly,” I say. “Who needs them?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Mum tries to persuade me to stay until after New Year’s, but I’m keen to get back to my flat and kick-start my exciting new plans. I’m going to sign up for yoga. I’m going to set up my dating profile. I want to feel positive and fresh and happy.
I’m living my absolute best cliché life, right now.
I head back on the thirtieth and, since I’ve completely lost track of what day it is, I’m surprised to check my phone and find it’s Thursday. Unfortunately, I’ve also forgotten to delete “Cordelia and Jonathan’s wedding” from my calendar. Tomorrow’s notification glares up at me.
I let myself have a moment of wondering what they’re up to right now. I smile, picturing Dashwell Hall awash with Christmas decorations, no expense spared. I imagine all the lights they must be putting up, the staging for the band in the ballroom, the long dining tables in the banqueting hall. I can hear Lady Meade’s heels echoing across the wooden floorboards as she marches around the house, making sure everything’s in order. Tom will have been roped in to help with something and he’ll be making dry comments about Cordelia and her regal demands, secretly very proud of his little sister. Jonathan will be in a panic—what still needs to be done? Am I supposed to be doing anything? Goodness, who could have thought there’d be somuch to do? I’d better practice my speech for the twenty-eighth time today! I picture Lord Meade hiding in the library, going over documents, pretending he knows what’s going on when really his wife is in charge.
Cordelia will be up at the stables. She’ll be away from all the madness, having a moment of peace with her horse, the only companion she can really rely on.
I scroll through Cordelia’s and my WhatsApp thread. The last messages were her persuading me to come to dinner. It was a “family get-together,” she said, and I should be there.
Maybe I could message her. I could tell her the truth. I could tell her I found the real source of the story. Maybe then she’d apologize profusely, beg me to forgive her for accusing me, ask me to get on a train to Derbyshire.
I start typing a message. I delete it. I start typing again. I delete it. I start typing again…
FUCK’S SAKE.What’s the point? I message Cara instead.
