Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles, #3)(26)

After the burial service had been completed, the family and a few close friends were invited to join Giles, Emma and Grace at Barrington Hall for what the Irish would have called a wake. Virginia moved deftly from mourner to mourner, introducing herself as if she were already the lady of the house. Giles didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, clearly didn’t disapprove.

‘Hello, I’m Lady Virginia Fenwick,’ she said when she met Harry’s mother for the first time. ‘And where do you fit in?’

‘I’m Mrs Holcombe,’ Maisie replied. ‘Harry’s my son.’

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Virginia. ‘Aren’t you a waitress or something?’

‘I’m the manager of the Grand Hotel in Bristol,’ Maisie said, as if dealing with a tiresome customer.

‘Of course you are. But then, it will take me a little time to get used to the idea of women working. You see, the women in my family have never worked,’ Virginia said, quickly moving on before Maisie could respond.

‘Who are you?’ asked Sebastian.

‘I’m Lady Virginia Fenwick, and who are you, young man?’

‘Sebastian Clifton.’

‘Ah yes. Has your father finally managed to find a school that will take you?’

‘I’ll be going to Beechcroft Abbey in September,’ countered Sebastian.

‘Not a bad school,’ replied Virginia, ‘but hardly top drawer. My three brothers were all educated at Harrow, as the past seven generations of Fenwicks have been.’

‘Where did you go to school?’ asked Sebastian, as Jessica came rushing across to him.

‘Have you seen the Constable, Seb?’ she asked.

‘Little girl, don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking,’ said Virginia. ‘It’s frightfully rude.’

‘Sorry, miss,’ said Jessica.

‘I’m not “miss”, you should always address me as Lady Virginia.’

‘Have you seen the Constable, Lady Virginia?’ asked Jessica.

‘I have indeed, and it compares favourably with the three in my family collection. But it’s not in the same class as our Turner. Have you heard of Turner?’

‘Yes, Lady Virginia,’ said Jessica. ‘J. M. W. Turner, possibly the greatest watercolourist of his age.’

‘My sister’s an artist,’ said Sebastian. ‘I think she’s just as good as Turner.’

Jessica giggled. ‘Excuse him, Lady Virginia, as Mama often reminds him, he does have a tendency to exaggerate.’

‘Clearly,’ said Virginia, leaving them to go off in search of Giles, as she felt it was time for the guests to leave.

Giles accompanied the vicar to the front door, which was taken as a sign by the remainder of the guests that the time had come for everyone else to depart. When he closed the door for the last time, he breathed a sigh of relief, and returned to the drawing room to join the family.

‘Well, I think that went as well as could be expected in the circumstances,’ he said.

‘One or two of the hangers-on treated it more like a feast than a wake,’ said Virginia.

‘Would you mind, old chap,’ Giles said, turning to Harry, ‘if we dressed for dinner? Virginia feels strongly about that sort of thing.’

‘One can’t afford to let standards slip,’ volunteered Virginia.

‘My father couldn’t have let them slip much further,’ said Grace, which caused Harry to stifle a laugh. ‘But I’m afraid you’ll have to count me out. I have to get back to Cambridge as I have a supervision to prepare. In any case,’ she added, ‘I came dressed for a funeral, not a dinner party. Don’t bother to show me out.’



Giles was waiting in the drawing room when Harry and Emma came down for dinner.

Marsden poured them each a dry sherry, then left the room to check that everything was running to schedule.

‘A sad occasion,’ said Harry. ‘Let’s drink to a great lady.’

‘To a great lady,’ said Giles and Emma, raising their glasses as Virginia swept into the room.

‘Were you talking about me, by any chance?’ she asked, without any suggestion of irony.

Giles laughed, while Emma could only admire the magnificent silk taffeta gown that swept away any memories of Virginia’s mourning weeds. Virginia touched her diamond and ruby necklace to make sure Emma hadn’t missed it.

‘What a beautiful piece of jewellery,’ said Emma on cue, as Giles handed Virginia a gin and tonic.

‘Thank you,’ said Virginia. ‘It belonged to my great-grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Westmorland, who bequeathed it to me in her will. Marsden,’ she said, turning to the butler, who had just returned, ‘the flowers in my room are beginning to wilt. Perhaps you could replace them before I retire this evening.’

‘Certainly, m’lady. When you are ready, Sir Giles, dinner is served.’

‘I don’t know about you,’ said Virginia, ‘but I’m famished. Shall we go through?’ Without waiting for a reply, she linked arms with Giles and led them all out of the room.

During the meal, Virginia regaled them with stories about her ancestors, making them sound like the backbone of the British Empire. Generals, bishops, cabinet ministers, and of course a few black sheep, she admitted – what family doesn’t have one or two of those? She hardly drew breath until the dessert had been cleared, when Giles dropped his bombshell. He tapped his wine glass with a spoon to ensure he had everyone’s attention.