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It seemed a good omen, and, her gladness overflowing, Charlotte slipped her hand into his.
Just for an instant, as if his mind was elsewhere, he failed to respond, then his fingers closed around hers and gave them a squeeze.
When they reached the sunny living-room, he suggested, ‘If you give me the phone number of your flat, I’ll have a quick word with Miss Macfadyen. Then you can fill her in on all the details while I talk to Matthew.’
She told him the number, and he tapped it in.
On the second ring the receiver was lifted and Sojo’s voice said laconically, ‘Hello?’
‘Miss Macfadyen, this is Simon Farringdon…’
‘Simon Farringdon…’ she echoed. Then sharply, ‘Is there something wrong? Where’s Charlotte?’
‘There’s nothing wrong; in fact everything’s fine, and Charlotte is here with me now. She tells me that you’re on holiday, so I’m ringing to invite you down to Farringdon Hall for a few days.’
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ Sojo demanded.
With a rueful glance at his companion, Simon denied, ‘Not at all. Charlotte and I would very much like your company.’
After a pause, Sojo said cautiously, ‘Well, if you really mean it, I suppose I could get a train down. When do you want me to come?’
‘If you have no plans for this afternoon?’
‘No.’
‘Then I’ll send a car for you. Say three o’clock… Now Charlotte has something to ask you, so I’ll leave her to explain.’
He handed over the receiver and went into the library, which also served as his office-cum-study.
Doing her utmost to curb her excitement, Charlotte said, ‘Sojo?’
‘What’s going on? Why do you want me to come down?’
‘Nothing’s going on, but quite a lot’s happened.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like Simon and I are going to be married.’
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, then Sojo laughed. ‘You’re kidding, of course.’
‘I’ve never been more serious.’
‘Honestly?’ Her voice squeaked a little.
‘Honestly.’
‘That ghost must have been quite something.’
‘It had less to do with the ghost than being stranded overnight.’
‘Stranded overnight! Hang on a minute… OK, now I’m sitting comfortably, so tell me everything before I die of curiosity.’
As succinctly as possible, Charlotte explained about the storm and the car breaking down. ‘But luckily we were close to one of the estate cottages, so Simon suggested that we spend the night there.’
‘Ooh, the devil! Were you alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Share a bed?’
‘Yes.’
‘No regrets?’
‘None. Even before he proposed.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Sojo said slowly.
‘But?’
‘I can’t help but worry in case this is just on the rebound from Wudolf. Because if it is—’
‘It isn’t,’ Charlotte broke in decisively. ‘As you yourself said, Rudy’s very Byronic, and I was on the verge of being infatuated, but that’s all…’
‘So it won’t rock the boat if I let on that he rang this morning wanting to speak to you?’ Sojo revealed.
‘No, it won’t. What did you tell him?’
‘That you were away for the weekend, but just in case he had the nerve to ring Farringdon Hall, I didn’t say where.’
Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.
‘I hope I did the right thing?’ her flatmate asked.
‘Yes. I wouldn’t have wanted him to ring here.’
‘Knowing how painfully honest you are, I suppose you’ll want to put him in the picture. What will you do? Ring him up, or write to him?’
‘I can’t do either,’ Charlotte said. ‘I don’t know his home address or his phone number, or where to contact him in New York.’
‘Well, if he hasn’t got fed up and stopped ringing before I get back, I’ll be pleased to tell him that you’re going to marry someone far nicer. Incidentally, I’d love to see his face,’ Sojo said naughtily.
‘I hope he won’t be hurt,’ Charlotte remarked a shade anxiously.
‘Don’t start feeling guilty. The only thing likely to be hurt is his pride. I know his sort. That’s why I’m glad you’re not still hankering after him… You aren’t, are you?’
‘No, not in the slightest. In retrospect I can see that I wasn’t in love with him. I’m not sure I even liked him.’
‘What about Simon? Are you in love with him? Or is that a question I shouldn’t ask?’
‘Ask it by all means. The answer is madly. I was lost the moment I saw him. A coup de foudre.’
‘And it was mutual, I take it?’
‘Yes.
Sojo sighed. ‘How romantic. But to get to the nitty-gritty, does Sir Nigel know?’
‘Yes, we told him almost as soon as we got back.’
‘What did he say?’
‘For some reason he seems to have taken a fancy to me, and he was genuinely pleased. He’s going to give me away.’
‘I thought he was very ill,’ Sojo commented.
‘He is. That’s why Simon would like us to get married as soon as possible. He’s going to apply for a special licence so we can arrange the wedding for Wednesday or Thursday.’
‘You don’t mean this Wednesday or Thursday?’ Sojo asked faintly.
‘Yes…’
‘Well, he certainly doesn’t waste any time.’
‘And I’d like you to be my bridesmaid.’
‘I was only joking, you know,’ Sojo protested laughingly.
‘I’m not.’
‘What does Simon think of the idea?’
‘He suggested it.’
‘Then I’d love to! I’ll dig out my best frock.’
‘Speaking of frocks, I’d be grateful if you could pack my clothes and shoes et cetera and bring them down with you.’
‘All of them?’
‘I suppose so. I won’t be coming back.’
‘Of course you won’t.’ Just for a moment she sounded lost. ‘I’m afraid it hasn’t sunk in yet. Do you mind if I keep the flat on? It’s become home.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. I was hoping you would.’
‘What about the shop?’
‘I’m going to ask Margaret if she’ll manage it, at least for the time being,’ Charlotte said.
‘She once told me she felt far too young to retire, so it’s my bet she would be happy to manage it on a permanent basis. I don’t suppose you’re planning to work after you’re married?’
‘I haven’t even thought that far ahead. But I can’t imagine Simon would want me to.’
‘Aah…’
‘What do you mean, aah…?’
‘You used to be so cool and self-sufficient. Now, I’m delighted to say, your voice goes all soppy every time you say Simon.’
‘It does no such thing,’ Charlotte protested.
Taking the denial for what it was worth, Sojo added, ‘I can’t wait to meet the man who’s had such a devastating effect on you, so I’ll grab a sandwich and get cracking with the packing. See ya!’
The line went dead.
Smiling to herself, Charlotte pressed end call and tapped in Margaret’s number.
When the older woman had heard the news, after a flurry of oohs and aahs and excited congratulations, she expressed her willingness to manage the shop for as long as Charlotte wanted her to.
‘It’s all happened so quickly,’ she added, ‘I can hardly believe it.’
Charlotte felt very much the same.
‘Fancy being swept off your feet like that!’ She sighed gustily. ‘Isn’t it wonderfully romantic? I hope you’ll both live happily ever after, just like they do in fairy tales…’
But were fairy tales bound to have happy endings? Charlotte wondered as she replaced the receiver.
Not necessarily. She recalled a poetic version of Spellbound that ended, ‘glass coffin, no prince.’
Despite the warmth of the room, a sudden cold chill, a premonition, drained the colour from her face and made a shiver run through her.
‘Is there a problem?’ Simon’s voice asked.
Feeling silly, she said, ‘No… No, everything’s fine. Sojo seems highly delighted, and Margaret is quite willing to manage the shop for as long as I want her to.’
‘Then why are you looking so upset?’
She managed a smile. ‘I’m not.’
Plainly dissatisfied, he was about to probe further when there was a tap at the door and Mrs Reynolds appeared, to say, ‘Lunch is ready when you are. It being Sunday, I’ve asked Milly to set it in the dining-room. I hope that’s all right?’
‘Yes, fine. Thank you, Ann.’
A hand at Charlotte’s waist, he ushered her through to the panelled dining-room, where a table that would have held a dozen or more was set for two.
‘So what’s wrong?’ he pursued, when they were seated and the soup had been served.
‘Nothing’s wrong, really.’
Seeing a frown draw his well-marked brows together, she added awkwardly, ‘It was just that Margaret said she hoped we would both live happily ever after, ‘‘like they do in fairy tales’’. I was just wondering if fairy tales always ended happily, when a goose walked over my grave…’
He looked oddly relieved.
Eager to change the subject, she asked, ‘How did you get on?’
‘I had a word with both Matthew and James. They were pleased to hear the news. James is quite willing to be best man, and Matthew said he could see no reason why, if the vicar of our chosen church was agreeable, we shouldn’t start planning the wedding for Wednesday. Unfortunately he’s away at a conference and won’t be able to attend, but, bearing in mind Grandfather’s state of health, he agreed that the ceremony should take place as soon as possible. As luck would have it, I was able to catch the Reverend David Moss, the vicar of St Peter’s, between his morning service and lunch. He had nothing scheduled for Wednesday, so I’ve arranged for an eleven o’clock wedding, if that’s all right by you?’
‘Fine.’
‘Then that’s the most important thing settled,’ he said with satisfaction.
An odd little shiver ran though her, leaving her shaken and uncertain. She wanted to marry Simon, wanted to be his wife, so why, instead of feeling joyful and happy, did she feel uneasy, as if some sixth sense was warning that all was not well?
‘Which leaves just a few odd ends to tie in,’ he went on. ‘The most important of which is a decision on where you’d like to spend your first honeymoon. I suggested Paris or Rome as being reasonably close—we can always go further afield at a later date—but if there’s anywhere else you prefer… Amsterdam? Venice? Vienna?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m quite happy with either Paris or Rome.’
‘It’s for you to choose.’
‘Then Rome. Along with some student friends I spent a weekend in Paris, which I loved, but I’ve never been to Rome.’
‘Rather than staying in the city itself, which can be extremely noisy, I suggest that we find somewhere in the hills just outside Rome. There are some delightful little villages…’
While they discussed the various options, she made a determined effort to dismiss the feeling of uneasiness. But a faint niggle persisted until lunch was over.
As they left the dining-room, he asked, ‘Are you planning to let your mother and stepfather know about the wedding?’
‘I’m afraid I hadn’t thought about it,’ she admitted. ‘Though I will, of course.’
‘Perhaps you’d like to phone them now?’
Well aware that the suddenness would come as a shock to her conservative mother, Charlotte hesitated. Then realising they had to know, and it would be as well to get it over with, she said, ‘If you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not. By the way, what’s your mother’s name now she’s remarried?’
‘Harris. Joan Harris. Her husband’s called Steve.’
Simon glanced at his watch. ‘Do they stay up late?’
‘I don’t really know.’
‘Well, it will be getting on for midnight in Sydney. Do you want to see if you can catch them?’
‘Please.’
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