Lies and Weddings(45)

“Yes, it’s where the family usually gather.”

“Is the family home at the moment?”

“Lady Beatrice is out of the country, Princess Augusta[*1] is on her honeymoon with Prince Maxxie, and his lordship just returned from London.”

“And Rufus?”

“The viscount is out of the country as well.”

“My brother went to Radley with him.”

“Ah, you’re friends with the viscount?”

“God no, he wouldn’t know me. I was two years younger, but many girls I knew had mad crushes on Rufus.”

“So I’ve heard.” Hemsworth grinned, and as he turned to lead the way through the doorway, she couldn’t help but stare appreciatively at his tight black jeans. Blimey, you could stack a row of pottery on that arse.

“This is the Great Hall, where you’d normally enter from,” Hemsworth explained. Cosima’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the double-height-ceilinged room, where medieval tapestries hung on the paneled walls alongside portraits of various Greshams through the centuries. She turned and stopped dead in her tracks. Before her, commanding the center of the room in front of the wide timbered staircase, was a massive bronze sculpture of what could only be described as a goddesslike alien riding a dragon. “Is that a—”

“Yes, Wangechi Mutu. The countess was her very first collector in England.”

“Of course she was! Astonishing! It makes me feel like I’m in a Kubrick film,” Cosima said as she circled the otherworldly sculpture.

“Which one?” Hemsworth inquired.

“2001: A Space Odyssey.”

“With a bit of Barry Lyndon thrown in, perhaps?”

“Of course,” Cosima said. Aussie, blond, AND a cinephile. I think I’m in love.

Hemsworth added, “I’ve always felt that Eyes Wide Shut didn’t quite get its due.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I’d like you to rail me with my eyes wide shut.

Just then, Arabella descended the stairs, looking pristine in a Roland Mouret emerald silk shirtdress. On each wrist flashed matching Hemmerle Harmony bangles of amber, peroba wood, and bronze.

“Lady Greshamsbury,” Cosima greeted her, slightly awed that the famously youthful countess displayed no visible sign of fillers up close.

“Good morning,” Arabella replied. “Thank you, Hemsworth. I can take it from here. Could we have tea in the orangerie?”

“Of course, ma’am,” Hemsworth said as he left the room.

“Now, you’ve seen the Great Room and my Mutu. What can I show you next?”

“Let’s see…if we only have fifteen minutes to spare, what do you think is most important for me to see?” Cosima inquired.

“Hiyah, don’t worry about that fifteen-minute nonsense. You are my guest for the day. Now, why don’t I show you the library?”

Cosima smiled appreciatively as she followed the countess eagerly into the next room. She was expecting a traditional library with dark oak shelves and tufted leather, but instead she was met by a jewel box of a room lined with floor-to-ceiling steel bookcases set against a wall that seemed to shimmer with the faintest whisper of gold.

Standing on the rolling library ladder at the far end of the room was Lord Francis.

“Ah, here’s the earl. Whatever are you doing, Francis?” Arabella chirped.

“Hallelujah! She’s speaking to me again!” Francis said from atop the ladder.

Arabella laughed merrily. “Hahaha! My husband the jokester! Francis, this is the writer from Cabana magazine. You remember she’s doing a BIG FEATURE ON GRESHAMSBURY HALL for their next issue?”

“Oh, ah, yes,” Francis replied, clueing in at last. He climbed down the ladder with a copy of Benjamin Graham’s The Intelligent Investor in his hand.[*2] “I know no one ever really uses this library, but I actually do read a book from time to time.”

Arabella glared at Francis as he scurried out of the room. “He’s joking again. We all read. We are a reading family.”

“I’m sure you are. What’s the last book you enjoyed?” Cosima inquired.

“Let me see…yes…I’m so bad at remembering names…you know what I recently read? Lace, by Shirley Conran,” Arabella said, noticing the book jutting out on the shelf right behind Cosima’s shoulder.

“WHICH ONE OF YOU BITCHES IS MY MOTHER?” Cosima said with a sneer.

Arabella looked at her in shock. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, ‘Which one of you bitches is my mother?’ It’s the most memorable line from the book, don’t you think?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” Arabella replied, still a bit confused.

“These steel structures are stunning. They almost seem to float off the wall. I’m reminded of Richard Serra’s metalworks.”

Arabella nodded. “The original bookcases dated back to the eighteenth century and were infested with termites, so we were forced to tear them all down. And then I thought, why not do something different in here? Fabricate the shelves out of steel and really reinvent the library but also ensure that all these precious books remain preserved for generations to come. I mean, Lace, it’s such a classic. I want my grandchildren to be able to read it.”