Page 76 of Duke It Out
And yet Janey still takes the time to make me feel like I belong here, in a way the people arriving with their expensively monogrammed luggage don’t. It’s easy in a place like this to feel like I’m at home and that’s –down to the staff, and Rory’s firm but fair leadership. It’s weird that someone so grouchy and offhand can be so utterly adored by everyone who works for him.
I slip my plate into the dishwasher and head to the library, because it might be the day of the ball but it’s still a workday for me. And then – proving that reality isn’t real anymore – I almost crash into a pretty, dark haired woman I recognise from somewhere. It’s only once I’ve apologised and she’s smiled and headed off towards the pool that I realise she’s a minor royal – not one of the big ones, but she’s been on the front cover ofHello.
I close the library door and pause for a moment. I thought this ball was for the estate workers and the community, that’s what Rory said. But there are people in the hallway talking about Saint Tropez and Miffy’s birthday in Mustique and it’s like stepping into another world.
I work for a couple of hours, then head for the pool, mostly because I want to have a peek and see who’s in there. I find Anna sprawled on a lounger like she’s in Saint Tropez herself and not the rainy Scottish Highlands. She’s in a navy one-piece and a pair of enormous, oversized sunglasses, an iced coffee balanced on the side table, her tanned legs arranged just so to make her thighs look as skinny as possible. I wonder if she’s helped herself to a few more chapters of the memoir while she’s at it – not that she could. I’ve changed my password and locked my laptop in the safe in my room.
“Ah, the worker,” she says, peering at me from over the top of her glasses.
“There are people everywhere,” I say. “Like—” I look across as two tall blondes emerge from the changing room and lower my voice. “Like them. Millions of them. Like an invasion of the gossip pages fromTatlermagazine.”
Anna takes off her glasses and studies the women for a moment, watching as they slip into the pool. “Don’t look so shocked. You really think a duke throws a party and doesn’t invite half of Mayfair?” She smirks. “These people don’t play by our rules, Ede. Theymakethe rules. And then they break them. That’s how you know they’re rich.”
Jamie’s nowhere to be seen. Rory’s disappeared into the machine of the estate, a low voice behind the office door.
I stare at her. Behind her the water sparkles like a postcard as the sun breaks through the clouds and lights up the room. One of the girls gives a high whinny of laughter. I feel that old familiar feeling of wanting to hide away, make myself invisible because this sort of place is too good for me and I don’t belong here. I’m Edie, who always had second-hand clothes and never quite fit in. Never the main character, always a ghost, even in my own story.
And then I square my shoulders. Not tonight. Not after everything I’ve done here, all the work, the late nights in the library. The thousand times I could have thrown the old duke’s bloody impossible to read diaries across the room or in the fire, knowing nobody else would ever know what I’d missed. The lies and the misdeeds and the bullshit I’ve transcribed, knowing none of it will ever be acted on or revealed.
Fuck it. Just for tonight, I’m going to put on that dress and pretend I belong.
30
EDIE
The castle has been transformed.It’s still Loch Morven in structure, but it’s like someone cast a spell. It looks like the setting for a Highland production ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream.
The staircase is hung with greenery and sparkles with tiny pinpricks of light where fairy lights are woven through the scented pine. Candlelight flickers at the windows. Music echoes through the corridors but not Jamie’s speakers this time. As I pause at the top of the landing and take it all in, I can hear strings and piano chords layered together with laughter and a hum of excitement. The huge entranceway door is open, and a fire is glowing in the grate – it might be late spring but there’s still a Highland chill in the air.
I take a final look in the huge old, foxed mirror at the bottom of the stairs. Anna’s upstairs, having a last-minute change which I suspect means she’s hoping to make a big entrance. I’d rather be there before everyone arrives, so I can lurk quietly in a corner and observe – the writer’s approachto partying. If it was good enough for Jane Austen, it’s good enough for me.
The dress looks good. It’s off the shoulder, with a plunging neckline which shows off my best assets and nips in my waist before flaring out at the hips. I’ve pinned my hair up loosely in a way that will probably look good for precisely half an hour before it all starts coming apart at the seams, but I suspect that everyone will be too drunk on champagne and Gregor’s fruit punch to notice.
“Edie!”
A face peeks around the edge of the big old wooden door and my heart gives a little skip of relief. It’s Kate. In a dress.
“You look amazing.” She kisses me on the cheek and then swipes at me, laughing. “Sorry, I’ve probably got lipstick on you.” She tugs at the collar of her forest green dress and pulls a face. “I’m in fancy dress. I always feel like a complete fraud when I’m dressed up like this.”
“You look beautiful,” I say, honestly. Her hair’s swept up, showing off the pale skin of her shoulders and neck, her long slender body poured into the velvet dress. I watch as her eyes dart over my shoulder for a moment and turn to see who she’s looking at but there’s nobody there.
“Jamie,” she explains. “Probably up to no good as usual.”
“Shall we?” Kate offers me her arm. “I hate walking into these things by myself.”
The great hall is busy already. There are glossy haired women in floor length gowns and shoes like sculptures. A gaggle of slender blonde girls in their early twenties – the kind that probably went to boarding school anddefinitelyhave a trust fund are giggling together in a corner. And over there by the fireplace, one arm propped up on the mantelpiece and a familiar grin on his face, is Brian the postman.He’s wearing a slightly too-tight black suit with a tartan bow tie. Ginny from the coffeeshop is holding a glass of champagne in both hands and waggles her brows and grins in greeting. I spot Tom, the gardener, talking to someone I recognise from television – one of those famous gardeners, the tall one with the untidy mop of dark curls.
Aceilidhband is warming up in the musicians’ gallery above the ballroom, and the whole place is a chaotic mix of tartan, tweed and taffeta. Gregor gives me a nod as he speed-walks around the edge of the dancefloor with a huge silver tray in his hands. There’s champagne everywhere I look, fairy lights strung from every corner of the room and a child in socks doing skids across the middle of the dance floor.
I let myself breathe it all in, turning to look at the lights glowing in the windows against the pale pink-streaked sky outside. Now I can see why everyone loves the Loch Morven ball – it feels like a strange kind of magic has befallen the castle.
I turn back to the room and my heart does something weird. Rory’s now standing by the fireplace in Highland dress and oh my god. He’s not in the traditional outfit that some of the other men are wearing, but a modern version – dark kilt with boots and a black shirt and waistcoat which just shows off everything: muscular calves, broad shoulders, that chest – to perfection.
He’s listening to Brian, a tumbler of whisky in his hand, but for a fleeting moment he looks over at me. It’s a level gaze, as if he’s sizing me up. I can’t quite work out if I’m supposed to wave, or go over, or curtsey. It’s a ball and he’s the duke and somehow this evening he feels like kind of a big deal. So, I do the only sensible thing, and head over to the corner of the room where Kate’s talking to Janey.
Janey gives a low whistle. “Look at you,” she says beaming. “Doesn’t she look good?”
“Aye,” Gregor appears from behind a velvet curtain. “I have to say you scrub up pretty well, Edie.”
