Christmas At Pemberley: And the Bride Wore Prada. Katie Oliver

I’m sure of it. So you needn’t worry.’ Wren smiled and kissed him on the mouth. ‘But it’s so sweet that you do worry. And I absolutely love you for it.’

      Dinner at Draemar that evening was fraught with tension. Gemma excused herself several times to go and pace the hallway outside and shout on her mobile phone as she dealt – rudely ‒ with florists and caterers and bridal assistants.

      ‘Honestly,’ she grumbled as she returned to her seat after a run-in with the wedding-cake maker, ‘what’s so difficult about making a black-and-white chequerboard pattern in the cake? A white cake, alternated with chocolate, with white frosting...what could be simpler? Topped off with a pair of Louboutin shoes made out of white icing sugar, with red-dyed bottoms, that’s all I want. Is that so much to ask?’

      ‘Have you got your wedding gown yet?’ Natalie asked. ‘I’m dying to see it.’

      ‘No. It’s gone to Northton Grange, to Dominic’s house.’

      ‘Oh, no,’ Nat said in dismay. ‘What’ll you do?’

      Gemma shrugged. ‘I’ll have one of the staff send it here, I suppose.’

      ‘There is no staff at Northton G just now,’ Dominic informed her. ‘I sent everyone home for the hols when you decided to have the wedding here. Couldn’t see the point of having them all hanging round for no reason.’

      ‘What?’ she sputtered. ‘If there’s no one at your house, how am I to get my wedding gown sent here?’

      It was Dominic’s turn to shrug. ‘Dunno.’

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll just have to go and fetch it, then.’

      ‘In case you forgot, Gems,’ he pointed out, ‘I haven’t got a car. And the forecast says we’re getting a shedload of snow soon.’ He scowled. ‘There’s a surprise.’

      ‘I don’t believe this,’ Gemma wailed as she rose to her feet. ‘I’m getting married in just a few days’ time, my wedding gown’s in Northton Grange, and there’s a bloody snowstorm on the way!’ She turned on Dominic. ‘And you don’t even care.’

      Dominic stared morosely into his whisky and didn’t bother to answer. He and Gemma barely spoke to each other these days. He avoided her as much as possible, and spent his time in the castle hiding out in one of the dozens of unused rooms, or closeted himself in the television room at the top of the east tower. Thankfully, Draemar offered up plenty of excellent hiding places.

      What the hell had he got himself into?

      ‘Babes,’ he began, ‘don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.’

      ‘Don’t worry? Don’t worry?’ she snapped. ‘I have no wedding gown, you knob! What am I supposed to do now – make a gown out of a pair of drapes, like Scarlett bloody O’Hara?’ She shoved her chair back and strode to the door. ‘Never mind. I’ve already figured out a solution.’

      ‘You – you have?’ he asked hopefully. ‘What’s that?’

      ‘Let’s just cancel the entire bloody wedding.’

      ‘Oh, shit,’ Dominic grumbled, and stood up. ‘Sorry, everyone. Brideasaurus is on the loose,’ and he hurried off after his furious fiancée.

      ‘Rhys and I have some news,’ Nat said in an effort to fill the sudden, awkward silence.

      ‘Oh? What’s that?’ Tarquin asked. ‘Good news, I hope?’

      ‘Well...no, it’s not good, not exactly. It’s a bit disappointing.’ Natalie took a deep breath and reached out to take Rhys’ hand in hers. ‘I’m sorry to say, I’m not actually pregnant after all.’

      ‘What?’ Wren exclaimed, dismayed. ‘Oh, dear! But – how can that be? Nothing’s wrong, I hope?’

      ‘No. It’s my own fault,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t follow the instructions on the test kit. I’m sometimes a bit impatient…’

      ‘Only a bit?’ Rhys interjected. ‘And only sometimes?’

      ‘But the good news,’ she added, ignoring him, ‘is that we’ve decided to – erm – carry on trying until I really am pregnant.’

      ‘Ah. So the next time you come to visit us at Draemar,’ Tarquin observed, ‘you’ll no doubt be encumbered with a stroller and nappy bags and all manner of baby paraphernalia.’

      ‘It’s called a “travel system” now,’ Natalie informed him, ‘not a stroller. It turns into a baby carrier and a car seat, so you needn’t buy them all separately.’

      ‘What a marvellous idea,’ Pen remarked. ‘Things have certainly changed since my day. When I was a new mother, one brought the baby home from hospital in an infant carrier, and a pram was a great, cumbersome thing.’ She glanced over at Caitlin. ‘I remember pushing you around in that pram like it was yesterday.’

      Caitlin stared at her plate and made no reply.

      ‘Excuse me.’ Archie stood up abruptly. ‘I’ve just remembered a call I need to make. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Enjoy your evening.’ And he turned to go.

      Pen laid her napkin aside. ‘But...what about your dinner, darling? Shall I have cook send up a tray?’

      ‘No,’ he flung back over his shoulder as he made for the door. ‘I’m not hungry.’

      ‘What on earth is going on?’ Natalie asked later as she and Rhys excused themselves and went to have an after-dinner drink in the drawing room. ‘The tension at that table was unbearable. Everyone seems to be unhappy tonight, in one way or another.’

      ‘You’re right,’ Rhys agreed. ‘The only happy one in the lot is Helen.’

      ‘Do you suppose...?’ Natalie began, as she and Rhys took seats by the fire and sipped their wine.

      ‘Do I suppose what?’ he asked.

      She glanced up at Helen, who’d just come in to the drawing room with Tarquin and was laughing at something he’d said. ‘Do you suppose Helen’s seeing someone?’ she murmured. ‘She seems a bit...different, lately. Lighter. Less gloomy.’

      ‘And who do you imagine she’s seeing?’ Rhys scoffed. ‘There aren’t any spare men round here, Natalie, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

      ‘Yes, there is. There’s one.’

      ‘Oh? And who’s that?’

      ‘Colm MacKenzie.’

      Rhys set his glass of wine down abruptly. ‘Colm?’ he echoed. ‘I can’t think of anyone less likely to get involved with Helen than him. The two of them are nothing alike.’

      ‘Maybe not...but opposites attract. And I couldn’t help but notice that Helen wasn’t here for breakfast this morning.’

      He shrugged. ‘She probably had a tray in her room. Or she wasn’t hungry.’

      ‘Or,’ Natalie said, her voice low but firm as she leant forward, ‘she wasn’t here, in the castle.’

      ‘Not here? And how would you know that?’ He regarded her with scepticism. ‘Where else would she be?’

      ‘I was going upstairs after breakfast this morning when Helen slipped in the front door. She had the same clothes on as yesterday,’ Natalie added, ‘I remember because I noticed her Christmas jumper. And,’ she added, if there was any doubt remaining, ‘she looked a bit guilty when she twigged that I saw her.’

      ‘She might’ve gone out to the store, or for a walk.’

      ‘She hasn’t a car,’ Natalie said triumphantly, ‘and none of the cars were gone from the drive. And she had her handbag with her. You don’t take your handbag