A week staying with her parents, together with the not-so-subtle gift of some expensive hand cream from Phoebe, had given Becky’s normally ravaged skin time to heal. Even her finger pads had lost their coarseness. ‘Of course I did.’
Phoebe moved onto an inspection of Becky’s nails. ‘You don’t think Dad’s too old, do you?’
Becky wondered if she was still talking about the tux, but replied, ‘Of course not.’
‘I told him he looks good for his age.’
‘He looks better than good for his age.’
‘Good,’ Phoebe said. ‘He always says nice things about you too.’
Becky opened her mouth to ask Phoebe to elaborate on her last comment but was silenced by the girl thrusting a silver clutch bag into her hands and spinning her towards the door.
‘Enough talking,’ Phoebe snapped. ‘Let’s go. We’re late and Dad, um … I mean Virgil will be wondering where you are.’
Chapter 45
Charlie’s nerves betrayed him into being perfectly punctual. His taxi arrived at the entrance to Compton Hall at seven precisely, where an equally precise attendant opened its door and gestured for Charlie to enter the building.
He dawdled up the two short flights of stairs leading to the imposing main doors. The three storeys of dark red brick loomed over him and the glass in the rows of tall, white-framed windows shimmered, reflecting the light from the rows of torches lining the path. Originally built in an H-shape, the Hall had lost its two back wings during an eighteenth-century remodel but still conserved the two extending fingers at the front of the building. This meant the main entrance was set back in a courtyard of sorts, walled in on three sides. An optimistic visitor would have seen the arms of the building stretching out to receive him in an embrace; Charlie felt as though he was meandering into the open jaws of a crocodile.
Beyond the doors was the great hall. The floor of the large reception room was black-and-white check and the gleam of the marble tiles suggested they had been cleaned specially for the occasion. Resting on a series of Corinthian columns and accessed via a grand wooden staircase at the end of the room, a first-floor gallery bordered the space. Large gilded frames covered the walls while a series of interlocking plaster ridges divided the ceiling into segments, converging on a central rose which bloomed into an enormous chandelier.
Returning to the great hall from the cloakroom, Charlie took a glass of champagne from a side table and stood behind one of the columns so he could watch the other guests and get his bearings. The rest of the early birds were already huddled in small groups and helping themselves to drinks from trays which weaved among them, held by waiters well-trained in the art of being ubiquitous and invisible.
Rachel was talking to her mother and a couple he didn’t recognise. Barbara Stone was as poised and elegant as ever in demure purple velvet. Standing beside her mother, Rachel was wearing a black strapless dress with matching elbow-length gloves. Her hair was sculpted into a smooth cylinder at the back of her head, and an emerald and diamond necklace hung at her neck.
‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’
An elderly gentleman sporting the most extraordinary white hair Charlie had ever seen had appeared beside him. As thick and stiff as beaten egg white, it had been coaxed into meringue-like waves and crests. Underneath it lurked a matching pair of eyebrows and under them his small, quick eyes flicked between the group in front of them and Charlie.
Charlie nodded and returned his gaze to Rachel.
As he made to walk away, his new companion nudged him with a bony elbow and said, ‘Her daughter isn’t bad either.’ He turned back to wink at Charlie as he made his way over to Barbara Stone. He touched her arm and dipped his head to say something to her in a low voice. Incapable of such subtlety, the lady’s head reared up and she stared at Charlie. A few seconds later Rachel was coming towards him, extending her arms in greeting while chiding him for not having found her sooner.
The guests began to arrive in heavy waves. With each new surge Charlie was introduced to the most influential and wealthiest potential patrons. He started to wonder if he had been entered in an artists’ version of Crufts and the Stones were hoping to win Best in Show with him as their prize specimen.
Becky arrived ten minutes before dinner. Unfortunately her dream of Compton Hall and its surroundings as a white-coated winter wonderland had been dashed by the arrival of milder temperatures and drizzle. The weather forced her to pinch her skirt up off the damp ground, scurry up the stairs and duck across the threshold. Shivering, she paused by the door to brush a few damp wisps of hair away from her eyes, then headed for the cloakroom.
When she returned to the great hall she used the nearest column as cover while she looked for Virgil. Although the space was packed with the event’s full complement of two hundred guests, who were polluting the air with an expensive fog of heavy perfume, she found Charlie straight away. He was flanked by the Stone ladies and, from his pained expression, she guessed he was being involved in schmoozing.
Several ways of getting him out of there occurred to her. Extracting him personally wasn’t one of them; her almost-white gown made her a beacon in a dark sea of wine, navy and black outfits. She was weighing up her options when a smooth hand brushed the top of her arm.
‘Becky, I’m so sorry I’m late. You look divine.’ Virgil pecked her on both cheeks and then stood back to take her in.
‘Don’t worry. I just got here.’
‘Clever girl. Get here too early and you’ll be cornered by a gaggle of old bores.’ He pointed to the centre of the room. ‘Which is exactly what has happened to your Charlie. Aren’t you simply aching to charge over there and rescue him?’
Becky lifted her hand to Virgil’s sleeve, turning him towards her and his eyes away from Charlie. ‘You look handsome as always,’ she said, running her fingers over the soft cloth of his jacket. Cut to flatter his slender frame, the impeccable tuxedo had to be a recent purchase. ‘What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you for ages.’
‘Many things. You may remember me mentioning I work for my uncle? The old man’s finally loosening his grip on the family business. Plans to retire in the new year. Properly this time. Seems open-heart surgery was the final push he needed. He’s planning a cruise with a lady friend, apparently. Anyway, I’m to take over. And that involves endless hours with lawyers.’ He shuddered. ‘But it’ll all be worth it.’ A tray bobbed past and Virgil snapped to attention. ‘I’m sorry, where are my manners? Would you like a drink?’
‘Some water would be lovely, thank you.’
‘The finest champagne it is then. Back in a mo.’ He patted her on the elbow and set off towards the back of the hall.
Becky sighed. She was already jittery and knew champagne wasn’t a good idea, but she daren’t draw further attention to herself by calling Virgil back. As the only woman who hadn’t got the memo about the navy and black dress code, she was already painfully noticeable.
Her skin prickling under the critical glances of the other guests, she retreated into the shadows of the nearest corner, opened her bag and took out her phone.
Charlie was doing his best to appear interested as he was presented to one art collector after another. And, as if being treated like a prize poodle weren’t bad enough, Rachel insisted on whispering the net worth of each collector as they approached, something he found deeply unsettling. Praying for a reason to escape, he searched the shadows, looking past the suits and gowns for a familiar figure in black.