Lizzie Marshall's Wedding (16 page)

Becky blushed crimson. ‘Thanks Stephanie but it’s early days and I’m not expecting it to last. Thanks so much for this. I know you don’t open until nine or do your own deliveries, I hope it wasn’t a nuisance.’

‘Of course it wasn’t! I’m delighted to do it Becky, both for you and for Max. It’s a pleasure, but I must get back now. Have a lovely day dear.’

‘And you Stephanie. Thanks again.’

‘Don’t thank me dear, thank Max.’ She beamed at Becky then trotted off down the road towards her shop.

Becky took the flowers inside and opened the card. It was in his handwriting, in ink, clearly written by fountain pen and it read, “Fifi, Think of me, counting the hours until Saturday, With Love, Max. xx”

She held the card to her chest and her eyes filled with love. Last night he’d called her sweetheart, now he’d sent her the biggest bouquet of flowers she’d ever had in her life, with a note sent with his “Love”. Was there just the smallest chance that he really was falling for her? She still found it hard to believe. Then she remembered what Max had said his father used to say, “Anything is possible” and her heart soared. ‘Anything is possible,’ she repeated to herself and she really hoped it was because, whilst she wasn’t sure whether Max was falling for her or not, she was sure that she was falling for him – in a very big way.

The doorbell rang and Jess and Susie pushed Becky playfully aside when she answered.

‘We’ve come to see the flowers,’ Jess said. ‘Susie saw them being delivered and called me. Bloody hell! They must have cost a small fortune!’

Susie spotted the card Becky was still holding. ‘What does it say?’

Becky handed it to her and she read the words out loud then said, ‘Wow! With Love. Things really are heading in the right direction aren’t they? Tell me, have you started calling him darling yet? Only I seem to remember someone assuring me that, whatever else they may call him, they’ll never call him that.’

‘Very funny. And no, I haven’t. But he is, you know, a darling, I mean. He’s so thoughtful and clearly generous and – I can’t say for an absolute certainty of course, because we never really know anyone, even if we think we do, but, I don’t think he would knowingly hurt me, not if he could help it. He’s gone to London until Saturday but he asked to take me and Lily out to dinner on Saturday night.’

‘He’s not a demigod,’ Susie said, ‘he’s a God. Hold on to him my girl and don’t let anyone take him from you.’

Becky shook her head. ‘If he wants to leave, I can’t stop him and if he wants to be with someone else, I can’t stop that either. You can’t force people to love you.’

‘No, but you can tie them to the bed and lock them in!’

Jess grinned. ‘That may be what you have to do to keep a man Susie, although, now you come to mention it, tying Max to the bed, locking him in and having your way with him, might not be such a bad idea Becky!’

‘Don’t give me ideas!’ Becky said, still laughing, ‘and don’t get me thinking about him and sex, it’s hard enough trying to concentrate on anything else as it is. I keep grinning to myself, for no reason, and I keep remembering something he said or a look he gave me or something and my entire body feels warm and tingly. I think I could actually have an orgasm just thinking about the man!’

‘I think we all could!’ Susie said. ‘Where are you going for dinner on Saturday?’

‘Oh. I haven’t said yes yet. I don’t want Lily to get attached to him and then get hurt when he leaves.’

‘Bloody hell Becky! Why must you persist in thinking he’s going to leave?’

‘Because everyone I love seems to, whether they plan to or not.’

‘Oh! Okay, that’s a bit “Freudian” or some other such psycho-babble. I know your mum and dad died and that was shitty and I know Jeremy left you and that was just as bad but we’re still here – unless you’re saying you don’t love us – which you’d better not be or I’ll give you a good slap, and Lily’s not going to leave you, so why the hell should Max?’

Becky shook her head. ‘I know, it’s stupid but it doesn’t stop me thinking it. And you’ve forgotten someone, my real dad left me too, when I was Lily’s age.’

‘Yeah. I had forgotten that, you’re right. But not everyone does – or will, so stop being so bloody maudlin will you and just enjoy the moment. I’ve never seen you this happy. Say yes to dinner on Saturday. Lily needs to spend some time with him sooner rather than later; if she doesn’t like him, you wouldn’t take it any further anyway.’

‘True but she likes him already, she’s named one of her dolls, Max.’

‘Just say yes Becky,’ Susie said. ‘Take the risk. You’re more than half in love with him already, in my opinion. You need to see how he is with Lily. You don’t want to find out he’s the kind of guy who would make her sit in a corner or something when she’s naughty. Not that I think he is for one minute.’

‘Neither do I. Oh God! I haven’t called him and thanked him for these flowers yet. Go and make some coffee whilst I do that you two. I don’t want you hearing what I say. Hey, shouldn’t you both be at work now anyway?’

‘Ten minutes – just enough time for coffee.’

They headed to the kitchen and Becky dialled Max’s number.

‘Hi Fifi. How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?’

She giggled. She was getting to like him calling her Fifi – even if it was because of a poodle. ‘I slept very well thanks and this morning, I got your beautiful flowers. Thank you so much Max. They are truly spectacular.’

‘I’m glad you liked them. I thought they’d remind you of me. I didn’t want you to forget me while I’m away.’

‘I can assure you, there’s no chance of me forgetting you Max, and you’ll only be away for two days – won’t you?’

‘Yes, back on Saturday but two days is a long time.’

‘I’m counting the hours too – and speaking of Saturday, if your offer to take Lily and me to dinner is still on, the answer’s yes please.’

‘Of course it is. That’s great. Shall I pick you up around five?’

‘That’s perfect. And Max – bring your toothbrush, I want to show you just how much I appreciate these flowers. I’m not into kinky sex at all, I’m afraid, so I hope you won’t be disappointed but I might just tie you to the bed and have my wicked way with you. I want to kiss every single inch of your body.’

He didn’t respond and she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. She heard him clear his throat.

‘Thanks for giving me such a clear idea of what to expect and I’m not in the least bit disappointed. That’s not an area I’m interested in either. I’m on a rather packed commuter train so it’s a bit difficult for me to respond appropriately but your suggestion sounds very interesting and I won’t rest easy until we’ve tackled that from every angle. I may even have one or two ideas of my own. I’ll call you this evening, when I’ve had a chance to give it the consideration it deserves and, believe me when I say, I’ll be thinking of little else all day.’

Becky giggled excitedly. ‘I’m so sorry Max. I forgot you would still be on a train. I’ll speak to you later. Thanks again for the exquisite flowers.’

‘Don’t worry, I think I handled the situation.’ He chuckled. ‘And, as you said, you can thank me on Saturday. I’ll call you later. Enjoy your day.’

Max hung up and caught the eye of a young man sitting opposite, grinning at him.

‘Phone sex?’ the man said.

Max raised his eyebrows then grinned broadly. ‘Yep.’

Six men, all wearing suits and looking very professional, nodded knowingly.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Becky and Lizzie exchanged emails, bouncing ideas around for the wedding and by Friday, Becky had arranged to meet Margaret at the Hall, to give her a ball park figure on the cost, as well as her fees.

Not having a car, she walked to the house, through the fields, still covered with slowly melting snow and she remembered all the happy times she’d spent playing there; feeding lambs, in the days when the fields were full of sheep and feeding the ducks on the pond near the copse.

When her parents had died, just before her sixteenth birthday, Beckleston Hall had passed to Edward Beckleston, her father’s younger brother, under the terms of an ancient entailment dating from the day Beckleston Hall was built. He allowed her to remain at the Hall until he sold it, two years later to pay death duties and to enable him to move to South Africa. He was the last of the Beckleston line and was unable to sire children so the entailment ended with him, the final living son, once he had inherited.

In any event, Becky had no legal title to the estate; she thought of Horace Beckleston as her father but he was not – not by blood.

Margaret, Victoria and Becky settled in the small sitting room at the back of the house, drinking tea and eating homemade cake in front of a roaring fire, which immediately banished Becky’s sad memories.

‘Lizzie wants a fairly simple wedding, with just family and close friends,’ Becky said. ‘They’ll need between fifteen and twenty of the bedrooms and were hoping to make a weekend of it, arriving on the Friday and having a quiet dinner, spending Saturday preparing, having a celebratory dinner and dance on the Saturday evening then the ceremony on Sunday with a wedding brunch to follow around twelve and everyone leaving around two. She wants something thrown in for entertainment on the Sunday morning, pre-ceremony.’

Victoria raised her eyebrows. ‘The party before the ceremony? That’s a recipe for hangovers and disasters.’

‘But so Lizzie,’ Margaret nodded. ‘She had something similar when she and Max married, remember?’

Becky felt her stomach lurch. It was ludicrous but the thought of Max preparing to marry the woman he loved sent an arrow of jealousy into Becky’s heart.

Victoria smirked. ‘Good heavens, I’d forgotten that! Didn’t Max’s best man vomit over the vicar and another friend was found in the vestry fornicating with someone else’s wife. A fight broke out I seem to recall.’ She gurgled with laughter remembering the scene.

‘Yes. Max of course was unfazed by the whole thing, Becky. He sent the vicar off to get changed, broke up the fight, temporarily reunited the wife and her husband and by the time Lizzie arrived ten minutes later, she never suspected a thing. She nearly had an apoplexy when someone told her afterwards.’

‘You can always rely on Max in a crisis,’ Victoria said.

‘True,’ Margaret said, ‘but let’s hope this one goes off smoothly.’

‘Well, I have suggested she might want to rethink that schedule, precisely because someone will get drunk; it is a wedding after all, it seems to go with the territory. She’s getting back to me after she speaks with Jack tomorrow.’

‘Do you have an alternative?’

‘Um. I’ve suggested Friday as per her schedule, the ceremony on Saturday, early evening, outside if the weather’s good – the sunsets can be glorious at that time of year – followed by the celebratory dinner and shorter dance, a firework display around nine to nine-thirty – everyone loves fireworks and then back to the dance until midnight. Brunch the next day from ten finishing at just before twelve; people will be starving if it’s later. They’re leaving for their honeymoon sometime around one to one thirty so I’ve suggested saving the cake cutting until twelve and serving cake and champagne, tea and coffee, then. People will head off after that.’

‘I like the fireworks idea. Start the wedding off with a bang, so to speak,’ Victoria grinned.

‘I agree. Everyone loves fireworks. Let’s hope she goes with your schedule. Will you organise a marquee for outside, in case it rains?’ Margaret asked.

‘No. No point in being outside unless there’s a good sunset. We would set up a pergola for the bride and groom and have festive poles lining the aisle. Chairs can be brought out in the afternoon, if the weather’s good, if not, we’ll have the ceremony in the ballroom with an outdoor bar on the covered terrace and an indoor one just inside the French windows.’

‘Oh! You seem to know this house well. I suppose, living in the village you came here on occasion,’ Margaret said.

‘No. I was brought up here. I lived here until I was eighteen, when the house was sold.’

Margaret’s tea cup dropped to the floor, smashing into tiny shards on the oak floor just as Max walked through the door.

‘Good God! You’re a Beckleston!’ The colour drained from Margaret’s face and she followed her tea cup to the floor, collapsing in a heap.

Max was by her side in seconds gently lifting her onto the sofa. Victoria flapped around her and Becky dashed to the drinks table and poured her a large brandy handing it to Max who passed the liquid beneath his mother’s nose. She came to and Max held the glass to her lips as she gulped down the contents.

She seemed disoriented and then her eyes landed on Becky and a look of hatred flicked across them. ‘I would like you to leave,’ she said.

‘Mum are you okay? What on earth happened?’ Max’s eyes shot from his mum to Becky and back again. ‘It’s Becky mum, remember. Why would you want her to leave?’

‘Because she’s a Beckleston Max. And I will not have a Beckleston in my house! Get her out of here.’

She spoke the words quietly but with such venom that Becky turned on her heels and fled, not waiting to explain that she wasn’t a true Beckleston – not by blood at least.

Tears of shock were coursing down her cheeks as she ran. She had no idea what had happened. One minute everything was fine, the next, Margaret was looking at her as if she were the devil incarnate. She’d said that she wouldn’t have a Beckleston in her house and Becky didn’t understand; the Hall was the Beckleston’s ancestral home, if Margaret hated them that much, why would she buy it?

She ran blindly, not really knowing where she was going, not really caring. She’d seen the look of horror on Max’s face. Max! What was he doing there? He’d said he was away until Saturday but it was early Friday afternoon – and, he hadn’t come after her. Could she expect him to? His mother had just collapsed.

Thoughts were whirling around her head as she ran then she felt the ground disappear beneath her and that was the last thing she remembered.

Becky’s head was pounding. Someone was shining a light in her eyes and she wanted them to stop. She lifted her right arm and a searing pain shot through it.