Page 12 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“Are you not going away at all after the wedding?” asked Nory.
“We’ve got a couple of days off afterward, but then it’s back to work till Christmas. Even Christmas won’t be restful since we’ve got to split ourselves between Charles’s family in Cornwall and mine in York.”
“That sounds like hell,” drawled Pippa.
“What will you be doing for Christmas, Queen Pip?” asked Ameerah.
“I’ll be with my father, in his suite at the Savoy. He’s coming up to town on the twenty-third. We have four days planned of eating and drinking to excess.”
“You won’t be going home?” asked Jenna.
“No, my mother is back from wherever she was, and it’s her turn to host Christmas. She’ll be inviting all her god-awful cronies, so Dad and I thought we’d make ourselves scarce.”
Pippa’s was an unusual family setup. Her parents had never divorced but had separated years ago, each to their own wing of the seventy-two-room house they shared in Dorset. Her mother seemed to drift from one private-island rehab to the next, and Pippa’s relationship with her siblings was often cool. Her father was another matter; she worshipped him. As the eldest child, Pippa was in line to inherit the responsibility of the familial home and her dad had been scrupulous in training her for the task.
“So, what’s the plan for the week?” Nory asked.
“I have a full itinerary,” said Jenna.
“Of course you have.” Ameerah half-smiled.
Jenna ignored her. “It’s just Guy and his wife left to arrive. We invited their children too, but Guy said they needed some time on their own. Fair enough, I suppose. Who would have ever thought Guy would be the first one of us to have kids? He’s always been so selfish.”
At the mention of Guy’s name, Nory’s stomach churned, and she felt her cheeks redden. She saw Ameerah give her a sideways look, which was instantly pounced upon by Pippa.
“Of course.” Pippa nodded knowingly. “This is the first time you’ve seen Guy since your sex marathon.”
Nory tried to think of something clever to say. Nothing came.
“Well at least if his wife’s here, he’s less likely to try for a repeat performance,” said Ameerah helpfully.
Nory didn’t know if the presence of his wife would make her feel better or worse. Worse probably. She wondered again how she’d been talked into this. At that moment, Charles turned and saw them, and the greetings began anew.
“Cocktails!” called Jenna shrilly, jumping up and pulling an ornate brass bell lever on the wall near the door. Nory imaginedthe staff ruing the day their predecessors ever installed the bell system. Jenna would be sure to make full use of it for the duration of their stay.
Later, slightly woozy from the two cocktails warming her blood, Nory followed Ameerah and Dev, who followed Jenna up the grand staircase to be shown to their rooms. From the way Jenna spoke, you would have thought she had chosen the decor and made the beds up herself.
“This is you, Ameerah,” she said, opening the door wide and waiting for Ameerah’s response. Dev threw himself straight onto the four-poster bed and said, “Awesome!” Jenna sometimes forgot that Ameerah’s family boasted mansions in several countries, and she was therefore not often inclined to be overwhelmed by luxury. But Ameerah made all the correct noises of pleasure. Besides, many of her familial properties were too modern for the kind of run-down grandeur that only history can bring.
Before Nory had attended the private school, she had assumed that there were simply people who had money and people who did not—her family fell into the latter category. But she had quickly realized that being wealthy was more nuanced than that; there was old money and new money, and there was a healthy snobbery on both sides toward the other camp. Many of the students at Braddon-Hartmead had come from old money—Charles, Pippa, Jeremy, and Guy included. Ameerah, Jenna, and Tristan were new money, although Jenna’s family tried to pass themselves off as old money; her dad had purchased titles for himself and his wife, which had scandalized the school governors at the time.
In the simplest terms, Nory learned, the old money tended to be history rich but cash poor (relatively speaking) and newmoney, the opposite (though they had a far nicer time in Nory’s opinion). After too much wine, Charles used to tease his wife-to-be by describing her family as “flash with the cash but mostly trash.” However, Jenna had the last laugh when her stepmother graciously stepped in to bail out Charles’s family business when it was threatened with receivership; he no longer teased his fiancée with that particular joke.
Nory’s room was down the hall.
“I chose this one for you because it looks over the formal gardens and I thought you’d appreciate it more than anyone else here.” Jenna smiled as Nory crossed straight to the window and let out a sigh of ecstasy.
The summer flowers had long since passed, and even the autumnal colors were starting to fade. But a garden like this had to cater for every season, and though the borders were understated at this time of year, the patterns of the garden design were picked out by lines of evergreens, gravel paths, and stone columns showcasing bulbous urns and shapely Greek statues.
“Thank you, Jenna, it’s perfect.”
Jenna smiled wider.
“What’s it like for you being back in this neck of the woods?” Nory asked. “How long’s it been?”
“I’ve not been back to Hartmead since the day we left school,” said Jenna. “Sixteen years ago! It feels weird. Even just driving past the school to get here. It’s like it’s put me right back where I was, in that mindset. I’m not sure if... Oh, just ignore me, I’m being dramatic.”
“No, you’re not. I mean, I come to Hartmead quite often because of my family, but it feels a bit weird even for me. I certainly haven’t been up to the castle for years. And with all of us together...” Nory let the last sentence hang, realizing that theyweren’talltogether. She only needed to glance at Jenna’s face to see she was thinking the same thing. Nory cleared her throat and carried on brightly, “But it’ll be great to reminisce about the old days... I can’t wait for Charles to bring up my year-ten fringe!”
