That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,41

whole week of Alex’s company to look forward to.

‘Ready?’ asked Alice, coming into the room.

‘Ready,’ said Cicely.

The day passed in an agreeable haze. After church came luncheon, and then a whole host of entertainments, at which Alex always seemed to be by her side, and the following morning, too. Alex excused himself in the afternoon, saying he had some urgent business to attend to in town, which reminded Cicely that she, too, had business to attend to, for she wanted to walk down to the Lodge and see how the repairs were progressing.

Reassuring Alice that she did not need any company she set off down the drive. The builders - local village men, trustworthy and reliable - were hard at work, and told her they expected to finish the job by the end of the week. Cicely was relieved. At least she would have a house to return to when the party came to an end. It was with a spring in her step, therefore, that she returned to the Manor.

The summery sound of leather on willow greeted her as she walked up the drive, and she realized there must be a cricket match going on. As she rounded a bend this was confirmed by the sight of the gentlemen, in their white flannels, playing the traditional game. They made an attractive spectacle against the green of the lawns, which Cicely had to admit were far better tended under Alex’s care then they ever had been under her father’s.

Underneath the chestnut tree, a number of ladies were watching the game. Cicely looked for Alice and Mrs Babbage, but her friends did not appear to be spectating. They would be in Alice’s room, she guessed, altering their evening dresses.

She crossed the terrace and headed towards the side door, intending to join them so that she could alter her pale pink chiffon gown, making it a little different so that Alice could wear it in a few days time. But as she passed the study something flew past her ear and fell with a thud! into the flower bed. She looked round, startled, but on seeing old Mr Hart running towards her she realized it must have been the cricket ball.

She was about to walk on, so as not to interfere with the game, when she noticed that Mr Hart was clutching his side. He was puffing and blowing, and she decided he needed a bit of help. Abandoning the idea of not interfering, she lifted her skirt an inch or two and stepped daintily across the flower bed in the direction of the thud.

‘Oh, Alex, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!’

The words drifted out of the open French windows.

Cicely looked up, surprised. Just inside the windows, their backs towards her, were Eugenie and Alex.

Cicely felt her heart beginning to beat faster. Eugenie was holding aside a few stray tendrils that had escaped from her fashionable pompadour hairstyle and Alex was fastening the most exquisite emerald necklace round her neck.

Cicely watched, transfixed, as Eugenie turned to face him, arranging the necklace across her high-necked blouse.

‘It’s enchanting!’ said Eugenie with stars in her eyes. She kissed Alex on the cheek.

Cicely went red to the roots of her hair and she wanted to run away as fast as she could. She looked round for the ball, seizing it as soon as she laid eyes on it, then hastily returned to the terrace and gave it to Mr Hart.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said with a gasp. ‘I’m not as young as I was, I fear.’

Cicely handed him the ball with a fixed smile and an encouraging word, then hurried into the Manor.

It is none of my business, she told herself, as her mind replayed the events she had witnessed in the study. It was only by the most unlucky chance that she had seen and heard anything untoward, and she ought to forget about it at once.

But she could not forget. She could not wipe away the memory of Eugenie’s look of joy when Alex had given her the necklace, or the kiss Eugenie had bestowed on his cheek. There could be only one reason why Alex had been giving Eugenie such a valuable piece of jewellery: they must be about to announce their engagement.

Either that, or . . . Cicely flushed, as she remembered that fashionable house parties often provided illicit lovers with a chance to meet and indulge their passion. What a fool she had been to read anything into