Lies and Weddings(8)
“Not possible. I’m already on an all-water diet in preparation for next week. Now, what can I wear besides the Giamba?”
“How about that peach gown you decided not to wear for Augie’s blessing at the rectory?”
“The Dolce? But it’s not even Alta Moda.”
“You look so pretty in it. Who’s going to care if it’s Alta Moda or alte kaker?”
“I wish it were that simple. You don’t understand the crowd that’s coming. Every crowned, uncrowned, and deposed head in Europe will be there. It’s going to be next-level, the who’s who of the International Best-Dressed List. You know every fashion magazine is covering the wedding—I have four shoots scheduled and I’m not even the bride! All eyes are going to be on us, and I’ll be torn to shreds for wearing off-the-rack Dolce on the big day. Mummy thinks that I’m so close to getting a major endorsement deal with one of the Big Three.”[*4]
Eden nodded supportively. Privately, she was quite relieved not to be attending the wedding, just like she was perfectly happy being spared from engaging in all the society madness that the Gresham girls were so caught up in. It was a world she got to peek into occasionally, helping the sisters get ready for their soirées and hearing the stories afterward, but she was perfectly happy to be a spectator from a distance. There was a knock on the door as Anya, one of the younger maids, peeked her head in. “The countess needs you immediately.”
Bea groaned. “I’ve been hiding from her all morning. On a scale of one to ten, how mad does she seem?”
Anya thought about it for a moment. “Eight point five?”
“Fuck.” Bea turned to Eden pleadingly. “Come with me?”
“You realize my presence is not going to be the shield you think it is.”
“True, but it will help distract her a bit. Here, put this on.” Bea fastened a diamond-and-ruby necklace around Eden’s neck. Her short gamine hairstyle, cropped to the nape of her neck, showed off the elaborate jewels to their full advantage, and Bea thought for the millionth time how lucky Eden was to have those naturally pouty lips and perfect cheekbones—if only she would wear a little more makeup to enhance her assets and not dress like she was an underpaid NHS first-year doctor (even though she was).
“There! The necklace looks better on you than it does on me! Really, you must wear more rubies on a regular basis.”
Eden began protesting. “Bea, are you sure I should be—”
“Shush, it’s perfect. It was my great-grandmother’s. The San Francisco one who replenished all the coffers with her railroad money. Now Mummy will scold me for letting you wear it and forget what she really wants to scold me about.”
Eden was led off reluctantly, and they entered the countess’s bedroom to find a rather strange scene: Thomas seated in a chair, observing with the detachment of a Jungian therapist, and Lord Francis (Harrodian/Radley/Exeter) standing helplessly in the corner, while Arabella was flinging things into her Globe-Trotter trunks as three maids rushed around in terror. To Bea, she seemed to be hovering at more of a 9.5 on the scale of maternal insanity.
“What’s going on?” Bea asked gingerly.
Arabella looked up. “BEATRICE![*5] Jackie the wedding planner says we can buy out all the other resorts on the island for our guests, especially since so many cowards have canceled and there are plenty of other spots on the island where we can restage the wedding! I’m going to need your help! I need you to pack your bags now and come with me! My dear brother, god bless his soul, is sending one of his planes to Farnborough for us! Wheels up at nine a.m. tomorrow! I need all hands on deck! We need to divide and conquer! Where is Rufus? Have you heard from your brother? He’s not responding to my texts and—”
Bea cut in boldly. “MUMMY! I have the most brilliant idea. Now that we’re putting the guests at different resorts and so many cowards are canceling, won’t we have room for Eden?”
Eden shook her head, trying to make eye contact with Bea. Not a brilliant idea, especially when the countess was clearly in a hypomanic state.
Arabella froze for a moment, looking up from her packing but not saying anything. Suddenly, her eyes caught on Eden. “Why are you wearing Granny’s Burmese-ruby Boucheron necklace?”
“I was just using Eden’s neck as my mannequin. Hasn’t she got the most gorgeous long Audrey Hepburn neck? See how useful she can be? Like you said, we need all hands on deck. And, Papa, remember how we felt so bad that Mummy couldn’t find enough room for the Tongs on the guest list, try as she might? We can have both Eden AND Uncle Thomas at the wedding now!”
Eden and Thomas exchanged wide-eyed looks, like mice trapped in the midst of stampeding elephants.
“Good thinking, Bea, but I do think the Tongs are too busy to get away on such short notice,” Francis said haltingly. He was all too aware that the last thing his friend wanted was to be anywhere near the cursed event.
“Yes, terribly busy week. Lots of patients,” Thomas chimed in.
Bea wouldn’t give up. “Dr. Tong, there will be lots of patients for you at the wedding! Think of the hundreds of guests and the life-threatening things they’ll be doing—whale watching, volcano trampling, all-you-can-eat-buffet eating. What if one of those decrepit ex-royals keels over from too much Spam Loco Moco?[*6] It’ll be good to have a doctor around. Two doctors, actually. I keep forgetting Eden’s a doctor. And, Mummy, don’t you see, Eden will be especially helpful…with OS.”