Like the rest of her family, she’s dark-haired, blessed with long, thick curls, a stark contrast to my limp, mouse-brown hair. She’s got the model frame and sharp cheekbones of her mother, the bold eyebrows also being a noticeable family trait. She’s wearing navy silk pajamas and her hair is tied half up, with a loose, messy bun lopsided on the top of her head. I wish I looked this good when I’d just woken up.
It’s so strange to meettheLady Cordelia Swann, the person whose picture I used to have on my wall because I was desperate to be like her, to have her perfect life of going to glamorous events wearing designer clothes and big bug sunglasses. Here she is, right in front of me. An actual human being. I feel embarrassed that I know so much about her life yet I’m only just meeting her in person.
IwishI could tell Cara about this.
“Cordelia,” her mother says tentatively, “this is Sophie, whom I told you about. Or Emily, as we shall be calling her. I’m sorry about Cordelia’s appearance, Emily. I did tell her we had company this morning but she seems to have selective hearing.”
“Hi,” I say, leaving my bag on the floor and going over confidently with my hand outstretched. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
She does not shake my hand. She looks irritated that I’ve approached her, recoiling on her chair.
I drop my hand and, having been prepared for an icy greeting, steel myself, refusing to be thrown by her glaring rudeness.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” I begin cheerily. “I thought we could start by you telling me a little bit about your wedding and I can tell you what I do, answer any questions you have. Then we can—”
“I won’t be tellingyouanything,” Cordelia interrupts, looking me up and down. “Your services won’t be needed. You can show yourself out.”
“Cordelia!” Lady Meade snaps. “Please!”
“This,” she says, pointing her finger at me, “is ridiculous. I can’t believe you’ve tried to hire someone to be my friend. It’s humiliating and stupid.”
“I’m not being hired as your friend,” I jump in. “I’m being hired as your bridesmaid.”
“I don’t need a bridesmaid.”
“In which case, you can see me as someone simply here to help you with the wedding.”
“I don’t needhelp.” She folds her arms, leans right back in her chair, and smirks at me. “And if I was going to ask for some, I’d hardly come to you.”
I’ve handled reluctant brides before and I can already tell that dealing with Cordelia is going to be a bit like dealing with a child in a strop. I just have to be calm and indifferent to her cutting comments. She wants a reaction.
“You may find organizing such a big wedding overwhelming at times. There’s a lot to do and May isn’t that far away,” I point out calmly. “You can send me on errands, anything you don’t have time for or can’t be bothered to do. You can ring me if you’re worried about something, or want a good rant. If anything isn’t quite right or something goes wrong, I can help you to find a solution. The most important thing for you to know is that I’m here for you.”
When I finish, there’s a moment of silence before she throwsher head back dramatically and laughs. “Are youfor real?” she says. She closes the magazine, slides off her chair, then slinks round the other side of the island toward the door.
“Cordelia, where do you think you’re going?” Lady Meade asks sternly.
“Away from here.” She snorts, giving me a look of disgust. “This whole professional-bridesmaid thing is such an embarrassment—I can’t even bear to be in the same room as her.”
“Cordelia—”
“Mum, it’s a big fat NO from me, got it? Good. I’m going to head back to mine and let you fire her in peace.”
“You’re going to leave in your pajamas?” Lady Meade asks, horrified. “At least, shower and change here, Cordelia.”
“Fine, Mum.” She sighs. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you with my lack of propriety.”
She disappears into the hallway and we hear her stomping up the stairs. I can’t believe the girl I worshiped when I was a teenager is so horrible. How strange that when she was sixteen she seemed like she was already a sophisticated thirty, and now at thirty, she’s back to being a spoiled, snobby adolescent who hasn’t got her way. I pick up my bag as the disappointment starts to sink in. This would have been the wedding of a lifetime, and I so badly wanted to be a part of it.
“I’m sorry, Lady Meade. Thank you anyway for your time.”
She frowns. “You’re quitting? I told you it wasn’t going to be easy. I thought you said you were up to the challenge.”
“I am!” I reply, confused. “But it sounded like Lady Cordelia fired me.”
“She has no right to fire you. She didn’t hire you. I did.”
“I know, but my job is to help the bride and if she’s really against—”
