‘Coffee in the drawing room, I think.’ Rosina rose, smoothing down her dress. ‘See to it, please, Virginia dear.’
Ginny suspected she was being got out of the way, but there was nothing she could do about it.
While Mrs Pel made the coffee and set the tray, she cleared the dining room table and loaded the dishwasher before setting off grimly for the drawing room, only to have her worst fears confirmed when she got to the door, and heard Rosina saying in tones of outrage, ‘No? You’re refusing my perfectly reasonable request without even considering it? When it was your father’s express wish that Lucilla should be married from this house? That he intended to give her away?’ Her voice throbbed. ‘Oh, this is disgraceful—unbelievable.’
Heart sinking, Ginny pushed the door wide and went in. Not that anyone noticed her arrival. Everyone was staring transfixed at the furious woman and cold-eyed young man confronting each other from opposite sides of the wide fireplace.
‘My father’s wish, madame?’ Andre Duchard queried coldly. ‘I hardly think so. Perhaps you are not aware that only a few weeks ago he arranged for this house to be leased for three years from the end of next month, or that he himself was planning to move to France. En effet to join me in Terauze.
‘The agreement with the tenants has been signed and it would not be in my power to terminate it, even if I wished to do so.’ He added flatly, ‘Which I do not.’
In the astonished silence which followed, Ginny set the coffee tray down carefully before she dropped it. Keeping her hand steady, she picked up the heavy cafetière and began to fill the cups, her mind whirling.
Somehow, she heard herself say quietly, ‘Would you like cream, Lady Welburn?’
As if a thread had been snapped, the atmosphere in the room changed from high drama to the prosaic.
Lady Welburn said gratefully, ‘Thank you, my dear,’ then turned to her future daughter-in-law, who had started to cry. ‘Calm down, child. It’s hardly the end of the world.’
‘But we’ve ordered this really pretty marquee in pink and white stripes, and we were going to have flowers to match,’ Cilla wailed. ‘Oh, it’s too cruel of Andrew. How could he have done such a thing, and not told us?’
Probably to avoid a scene like this, Ginny thought drily.
‘Well, I don’t believe a word of it,’ Rosina said furiously.
Andre shrugged. ‘Then I suggest you consult Monsieur Hargreaves, who will confirm the details.’
‘Hargreaves?’ Rosina gave a metallic laugh. ‘I’ll find a proper lawyer of my own who won’t let me be cheated out of my rights.’
‘Cheated?’ Andre Duchard echoed musingly. ‘Perhaps, madame, that is the last argument you of all people should pursue.’
Ginny saw the high colour suddenly fade from her mother’s face and Sir Malcolm move quickly to her side.
‘Sit down, Mrs Charlton.’ He led her firmly to a chair. ‘Naturally, this has all been most distressing for you, but I’m sure Andrew had every intention of discussing his plans with you, but sadly had no time to do so.
‘It could have been a most exciting change for you both,’ he added encouragingly. ‘A whole new life.’
‘Live in France? With his bastard?’ Rosina’s voice shook. ‘I would never—never have agreed. As he should—he must have known.’
‘And my wedding,’ Cilla broke in with sudden energy. ‘What’s going to happen about my wedding—all my plans? They’re ruined,’ she added with a sob.
‘No, Lucilla, they’ll just have to be changed,’ said Lady Welburn. ‘Something we can discuss at another time when you are more composed.’
But Cilla was not to be pacified, glaring up at Ginny who was approaching with her coffee.
‘Did you know about this? I bet you did. And you can take that away. I don’t want it.’ She flung out a petulant hand, knocking the cup from Ginny’s grasp to the carpet, and spilling its contents down the taupe dress in the process.
Lady Welburn’s mouth tightened into a line of disapproval.
She said to her husband, ‘I think perhaps we should be going, my dear.’
Andre Duchard walked forward. ‘Au contraire, madame. Please do not disturb yourself. I am clearly de trop and the one who should leave. My apologies for spoiling a pleasant evening, although the cause of the disagreement was not of my choosing. Bonsoir.’
He offered a tight-lipped smile and walked to the door, where he turned to look back at Ginny, down on one knee retrieving the cup and saucer from the rug.
‘I wish I could regret also the damage to your dress, mademoiselle,’ he said softly. ‘But, hélas, that is impossible. I see it rather as an act of God.’