Be Careful What You Wish For Read online

  “In the next room. But as you can see, there’s a connecting door, because this is where the earl’s mistress used to sleep; so I’ll be joining you later.”

  “No, you won’t,” said Jessica mockingly, “although I rather like the idea of being an earl’s mistress.”

  “Not a chance,” said Clive, falling to one knee. “You’re going to have to be satisfied with being Mrs. Bingham, the fish-paste princess.”

  “You’re not proposing again, are you, Clive?”

  “Jessica Clifton, I adore you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I hope you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  “Of course I will,” said Jessica, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around him.

  “You’re meant to hesitate and think about it for a moment.”

  “I haven’t been thinking about much else for the past six months.”

  “But I thought—”

  “It’s never been you, silly. I couldn’t love you any more if I wanted to. It’s just that…”

  “Just what?”

  “When you’re an orphan, you’re bound to wonder—”

  “You are so silly sometimes, Jess. I fell in love with you, and I don’t give a damn who your parents are, or were. Now let go of me, as I have a little surprise for you.”

  Jessica released her fiancé, who took out a red leather box from an inside pocket. She opened it, and burst out laughing when she saw the pot of Bingham’s Fish Paste. The paste even the fishermen eat.

  “Perhaps you should look inside,” he suggested.

  She unscrewed the lid, and stuck a finger into the paste. “Yuck,” she said, and then pulled out an exquisite Victorian sapphire and diamond engagement ring. “Oh. I bet you won’t find one of these in every jar. It’s so beautiful,” she said after she’d licked it clean.

  “It was my grandmother’s. Betsy was a local Grimsby girl who Granddad married when he was working on a fishing trawler, long before he made his fortune.”

  Jessica was still staring at the ring. “It’s far too good for me.”

  “Betsy wouldn’t have thought so.”

  “But what about your mother? How will she feel when she sees it?”

  “It was her idea,” said Clive. “So let’s go down and tell them the news.”

  “Not yet,” said Jessica, taking him in her arms.

  24

  AFTER BREAKFAST THE following morning, Clive took his fiancée for a walk around the grounds of Mablethorpe Hall, but they could only manage the garden and the lake, before Clive’s mother whisked Jessica off to go shopping in Louth.

  “Remember, every time the till rings, just think of it as another crate of fish paste,” said Clive as she climbed into the back of the car next to Priscilla.

  By the time they returned to Mablethorpe Hall for a late lunch, Jessica was laden down with bags and boxes, containing two dresses, a cashmere shawl, a pair of shoes and a tiny black evening bag.

  “For the dinner tonight,” Priscilla explained.

  Jessica could only wonder how many crates of fish paste would have to be sold to cover the bills. In truth, she was very grateful for Priscilla’s generosity, but once they were alone in her room, she told Clive firmly, “This is not a lifestyle I want to indulge in for more than a couple of days.”

  After lunch, Clive took her around the rest of the estate, only just getting her back in time for afternoon tea.

  “Do your family ever stop eating?” asked Jessica. “I don’t know how your mother manages to stay so slim.”

  “She doesn’t eat, she just picks at things. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “Shall we go through the guest list for dinner?” said Priscilla once tea had been served. “The Bishop of Grimsby and his wife Maureen.” She looked up. “Of course, we’re all hoping that the bishop will perform the ceremony.”

  “And what ceremony might that be, my dear?” asked Bob, winking at Jessica.

  “I do wish you wouldn’t call me ‘my dear,’” said Priscilla. “It’s so common,” she added before continuing with the guest list. “The Mayor of Louth, Councillor Pat Smith. I do so disapprove of shortening Christian names. When my husband becomes High Sheriff of the county next year, I shall insist on everyone calling him Robert. And finally, my old school friend, Lady Virginia Fenwick, daughter of the Earl of Fenwick. We were debutantes in the same year, you know.”

  Jessica grabbed Clive’s hand to stop herself shaking. She didn’t say another word until they were back in the safety of her room.

  “What’s the matter, Jess?” asked Clive.

  “Doesn’t your mother realize that Lady Virginia was Uncle Giles’s first wife?”

  “Of course she does. But that was all over such a long time ago. Who gives a damn? In fact, I’m surprised you even remember her.”

  “I only met her once, on the day of Grandma Elizabeth’s funeral, and the one thing I can recall is that she insisted I address her as Lady Virginia.”

  “She still does that,” said Clive, trying to make light of it. “But I think you’ll find she’s mellowed a little over the years, although, I confess, she does bring out the worst in my dear mother. I know for a fact that Dad can’t stand her, so don’t be surprised if he finds any excuse to escape whenever the two of them are together.”

  “I do like your dad,” said Jessica.

  “And he adores you.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Stop fishing. But I have to admit he’s already given me the ‘If I was twenty years younger, my boy, you wouldn’t stand a chance’ routine.”

  “How kind of him.”

  “It’s not kindness, he meant it.”

  “I’d better get changed, otherwise we’ll be late for dinner,” said Jessica. “I’m still not sure which of the two dresses I should wear,” she added as Clive left for his room. She tried them both on, staring in the mirror for some considerable time, but she still hadn’t made a decision by the time Clive came back and asked her to help him with his bow tie.

  “Which dress should I wear?” she asked helplessly.

  “The blue one,” said Clive before returning to his room.

  Once again she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered if there would ever be another occasion on which she could wear either one of them. Certainly not the student arts ball.

  “You look fantastic,” said Clive when she finally emerged from the bathroom. “What a dress!”

  “Your mother chose it,” said Jessica, twirling around.

  “We’d better get a move on. I think I heard a car coming down the drive.”

  Jessica picked up the cashmere shawl, draped it around her shoulders and took one more look in the mirror before they walked down the stairs hand in hand. They entered the drawing room just as there was a knock on the front door.

  “Oh, you look divine in that dress,” said Priscilla, “and the shawl is just perfect. Don’t you agree, Robert?”

  “Yes, just perfect, my dear,” said Bob.

  Priscilla frowned as the butler opened the door and announced “The Bishop of Grimsby and Mrs. Hadley.”

  “My lord,” said Priscilla, “how wonderful that you were able to join us. Let me introduce Miss Jessica Clifton, who has just become engaged to my son.”

  “Lucky Clive,” said the bishop, but all Jessica could think of was how she would like to draw him in his splendid long black frock coat, purple clerical shirt and brilliant white dog-collar.

  A few minutes later, the Mayor of Louth appeared. Priscilla insisted on introducing him as Councillor Patrick Smith. When Priscilla left the room to greet her final guest, the mayor whispered to Jessica, “Only my mother and Priscilla call me Patrick. I do hope you’ll call me Pat.”

  And then Jessica heard a voice she could never forget.

  “Darling Priscilla, it’s been far too long.”

  “Far too long, darling,” agreed Priscilla.

  “One just doesn’t get up to the nort