Page 108 of All We Want for Christmas
‘Lara? Anything wrong? You look beautiful, by the way.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, touched by his gallantry while feeling incongruous in her own medieval gown. What she had to deliver wasn’t fantasy: it was real-life bad news.
‘Lara has something to tell us. Sit down, my dear.’ Lara sat on the sofa while Henry took a chair and Fiona sat next to her. ‘Go ahead. It can’t be that bad, surely?’
‘You’re not leaving us, are you?’ Henry asked, leaning forward in alarm. ‘Not now Harriet and Julian are taking over. They’ll need you!’
‘I’m not leaving,’ Lara said wearily. ‘At least I hope I’m not …’
Fiona exchanged an anxious glance with Henry and murmured, ‘This sounds serious. Go ahead, my dear.’
Lara dived in, reasoning it was best to simply get it over with, like ripping off a very large plaster from an unhealed wound. ‘I have to tell you something that I should have said weeks ago and it’s related to the chalice. I’m so sorry. You see, I – I – had a mishap with it the day that Flynn arrived. And I only mention him because that’s how I remember the day it happened.’
Fiona raised her hand. ‘Lara, take a breath, my dear. This can’t be that bad.’
‘I’m afraid it is, because I dropped the chalice onto the floorboards and I thought it was OK. But it wasn’t, itisn’t, and you must have noticed tonight, because there’s a tiny chip in the base … and I’ll hand my resignation in now.’
Henry’s gaze slid from Lara to the chalice and back to Lara. ‘Ah. I see.’
‘Oh dear,’ Fiona said, exchanging a tight-lipped glance with her husband. ‘I can see why you’ve been so worried. Hmm.’
‘I’ll leave Ravendale, of course,’ Lara said, feeling the disappointment in their voices crush her.
Henry made a harrumphing sound.
‘Oh dear,’ Fiona said again, glancing at the fireplace, as if she couldn’t bear to look at Lara.
Lara glanced up miserably then jumped as the sitting room door flew open and Flynn hobbled into the room. ‘Wait! I can explain!’
Everyone stared at him. He was breathing hard. Lara was dumbstruck. ‘Please, don’t blame Lara. It’s my fault the chalice was damaged.’
‘Your fault?’ Fiona said.
‘The day I arrived at the castle, I came across Lara in the tower. She was putting the chalice away and I burst into the room like a twa—idiot. She was startled and the chalice slipped out of her hands. So, I’m responsible and I’ll resign.’
Henry raised his eyebrows and glanced from Lara and Flynn to his wife. ‘My word, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so eager to take the blame for something that wasn’t really their fault.’
Lara found her voice. ‘But it ismyfault,’ she insisted, glaring at Flynn looming over them all. ‘Yes, it was an accident, but I ought to have told you immediately. I was … worried you’d had enough shocks, with Henry’s illness, but that’s still no excuse for deceiving you.’
‘That’s partly my doing too,’ Flynn said, refusing to meet Lara’s warning glower. ‘I thought it was best if she – we – waited – until after Christmas. I kind of encouraged her to keep quiet.’
‘Flynn. No. It was my decision. I wasn’t influenced by him,’ she said firmly.
‘Can we all calm down, please?’ Fiona held up her hands. ‘And can we say something? Because we also have a confession to make.’
Lara’s lips parted but she didn’t say anything. Flynn also wisely kept his mouth shut. Even though the Penhaligons didn’t seem unduly angry, Lara clenched her fists tightlybecause her fingers weren’t steady and her stomach was churning.
‘Please, sit down,’ Henry ordered, with a steely glare at them both.
Flynn sat beside Lara, not daring to meet her eye.
Fiona took the armchair but Henry remained standing in front of the hearth, hands folded behind his back. It was all horribly like being summoned to the head teacher’s office, only much worse, considering what was at stake.
‘Now, I am a little disappointed that you didn’t feel able to tell me at the time that you’d damaged the chalice,’ Fiona began.
Lara closed her eyes briefly, longing to sink through the floor.
‘However, I totally understand why you didn’t want to risk upsetting us. That was kind of you, even if it was a little … misguided.’
