a little ruefully. “Only it takes a lot of restraint to only sell, and not be tempted to buy.”
“So, all that stuff inside…”
“Waiting to be sold on,” Therese said, firmly. “See, it turns out that a lot of people want to get into vintage wear, but don’t know where to start, or what size to buy. So that’s my USP.”
Which sounded more like something you’d use to track ghosts than sell clothes. “USP?”
“Unique selling point. They send me their measurements, and a photo, and a bit of information about them and what they want the clothes for, and I put together a one-of-a-kind vintage outfit, including all accessories, for their specified occasion.”
I blinked. That was actually a really good idea. “That’s… great.”
In a sudden movement, Therese was on her feet, motioning for me to stay where I was. “Actually, I have something that would be perfect for you,” she said. “For tonight. Just wait here.”
She was back within moments, holding out a navy dress on a satin padded hanger. “To wear for dinner.”
I reached out a hand to touch it. The dress was of a style that had been popular in the 1930s, and the cut was exquisite, with fluted cap sleeves and a silky bow at the neckline, above the narrow waist belt. The cotton was soft and worn under my fingertips, but the colours were still crisp and bright. It was only as I looked closer that I realised; this was the dress Therese had worn in the photo on the mantle.
“It should fit, I think,” she said, pushing the hanger into my hands. “You’ve lost weight since you’ve been away. Hold it up against yourself.” I did as I was told, and she looked at me critically.
“It’s lovely,” I said, swishing the skirt from side to side. “But you don’t think it’s a little… too much?” Even at Rosewood, dressing for dinner didn’t usually require evening gowns, as such. Not that this was – it was just a hundred times nicer than anything I had in my suitcase.
“Nonsense,” Therese said. “George always said that a person could never really be overdressed – merely better dressed than everyone else. Now, you’ll need the shoes and a bag too, of course. You’re a six, yes? Come with me.”
She trotted back into the cottage and I followed obediently. Maybe a makeover was just what I needed to get through the rest of the visit. Maybe Ellie wouldn’t remember what I’d done if I looked like someone else.
I returned to the main house some time later, laden down with hangers and bags, to find the place deserted. Assuming that people were getting changed for dinner, I followed suit and sneaked up the stairs to my allotted room, pulling a face at the yellow walls as they glowed in the slowly fading sunlight.
On the other hand, I realised, the one good thing about the Yellow Room was that it had an en suite. I decided to take advantage of it, hoping that a shower might wash away the ache that comes from sitting on trains too long, and the tension that came simply from being home. Besides, tea with my great-aunt had left my head overflowing with thoughts, and some hot and steamy water was the best way I knew to flush them out.
The shower didn’t help as much as I’d hoped. In less than an hour I’d be sitting down to dinner with my entire family, something I hadn’t done in two years, and I was going in with nothing but a vintage outfit and a vague hope that Nathaniel had a plan.
I didn’t even know how much Ellie had told the family, or how much they’d guessed, about what had happened.
And then there was Greg.
Tonight, I’d see Greg for the first time in two years. For the first time since the wedding.
Two years, and I still wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure I ever would be.
Part of me wanted to see him, more than anything. To get it over with. To know, for sure, that there was nothing there between us any more. To be certain that my heart wouldn’t beat too fast when he was in the room, that I wouldn’t find my eyes drawn to him every few moments.
To show that I was no longer in love with my sister’s husband.
The rest of me just wanted to put the inevitable off for as long as possible.
The love Greg and I had shared had been childish, irresponsible – and all-encompassing, for a time. The sort of love that makes you abandon caution and sense and morals. The kind of love that causes pain.
I never wanted to feel that sort of love again.
But seeing Greg was nothing compared to my terror at seeing Ellie again. I could take any reaction from Greg – anything from love to hate. It didn’t matter; it couldn’t change anything now.
But Ellie… the thought of seeing the same hate in her eyes as the day she found out, of knowing for certain that nothing had changed, and never would – that filled me with the same paralysing fear that had kept me away from Rosewood for so long. When I was hundreds of miles away, there was still a chance that she might have forgiven me. Once I saw her again, whatever she felt was the truth, and I couldn’t spin it into possibilities any more.
And that idea frightened me more than anything.
I ached across the shoulders, and my eyes still felt gritty, but at least I was clean. Wrapping one towel around my hair and another around my body, I wiped beads of water away from my eyes and opened the bathroom door, letting the burst of steam obscure the alarming yellow of the bedroom walls.
My skin burned, and I knew I’d be bright pink from head to toe. I liked my showers hot – hot enough to leave me gasping for breath when I stepped out.
Pulling the towel from my head I shook my wet hair out across my shoulders, and clutched the towel around my body tighter as I crossed the room to open the balcony door. Fresh air filled my lungs as I stared out over the Rose Garden. Edward was there, I realised, his blonde head moving between the remaining blooms. Isabelle had been right; I did have a magnificent view of the Rose Garden. I felt I could almost reach out and pluck one from its stem.
Suddenly, something else in the garden caught my eye. Another figure, too pale in the sunlight. She seemed to move in a different plane to Edward, as she ran her hands over the decapitated rose bushes, as if to her they still bloomed.
Was it really the Rosewood ghost?
I leant further out across the balcony railing to get a better look, until a rush of cold air told me that my towel hadn’t leant with me. I grabbed for it, yanking it back up over my breasts, but not before Edward turned towards the house again.
Even at a distance, I could see the sardonic eyebrow he raised at my state of undress. Then he turned his gaze away and walked slowly towards the other gardens.
Damn.
I was beginning to think that I hadn’t made the best ever first impression on my grandfather’s new assistant.
Family is who you have left when there’s nothing and nobody else. When the wind blows cold and the waves batter the cliffs, when night falls and darkness seeps in… family is still there.
