Jemma’s Version
After the night of the concert, I was expecting a reaction similar to a nuclear explosion from Ashford, but nothing happened.
The following day, he simply asked me how my evening had been and asked me to be more discreet, since, even though I have the right to have my own life and relationships, I should try to keep a low profile at least.
Perhaps he’s right, but I’m dying to teach him a lesson. Whenever I’m obliged to take part in those pompous evenings, I yearn for revenge, because he’s completely at ease, in his element, and it really seems he doesn’t give a damn about my isolation and discomfort. Besides, the fact that he despises Carter makes me want to hang out with him even more.
Carter likes me, I know this. After our after concert scotch in a half deserted pub, he took me back home and he almost kissed me. We said goodbye and he kissed me under my ear – it was too precise to be accidental – and on the corner of the mouth. If I had been a little more self-confident, maybe I would have made my move.
There’s a drag hunt this morning; according to what Lance explained to me, it’s a symbolic hunt during which people on horseback and a pack of hounds chase a trail which simulates the smell of a fox, over a course of about ten miles in the woods. From what I understood, the official hunting season opens in October; however, this is a further occasion to show off, and the lovely members of the aristocratic world would never miss a single one of them, not even in summer.
Needless to say, Ashford is the designated master of hounds for this season, so this will be a top event for the Parker family.
I’m not into hunting and, as far as I’m concerned, I always root for the fox, even though it’s not there on this particular occasion.
If nothing else, I won’t make a bad impression, given that I can ride a horse well enough.
I even have a damn fine cowgirl outfit! The Texan boots and the belt are relics belonging to my father (the boots are a little loose but I’ll wear two pairs of socks and they’ll fit just fine); I bought the fringe leather vest at the Brick Lane market and the cowboy hat was on sale at a costume shop. Who knew that I would have the chance to use it!
The hunt will take place on the Danburys’ estate, at Avon House. I join the members of the hunting club after having changed my clothes and, when Ashford sees me, he almost chokes on his champagne.
“You never fail to amaze me. Negatively,” he growls with clenched teeth when I approach him.
“I’m not going to wear one of those colanders you all put on your heads. And those red jackets make you look like a legion of Santa’s little helpers.”
“Oh well, you look like a character from a Sergio Leone movie.”
Harring is there too, and he claps his hands in amusement as soon as he sees me. “I wish I had thought of it first!”
“You can’t talk. You don’t even hunt!” Ashford reproaches him.
“Indeed,” Harring says, shrugging. “I just came for the buffet.”
“Isn’t Cécile here?” I ask.
“No, she’s no longer been a welcome since she hid the foxes at the last three hunts…” says Harring, then he stops and elbows Ashford. “Shitface, eleven o’clock.”
Ashford furrows his brows in anger, so I turn round to see who they’re referring to.
It’s Carter, who comes closer to greet me as soon as he notices I’m there.
“Hello, Jemma.” Then he turns towards the other two men. “Harring, Parker.”
“Didn’t you have anything better to do?” Ashford asks.
“Not better than what I see here,” Carter replies. I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but I think he looked at me while saying that.
“You’re not welcome.”
“How strange,” Carter says, pulling a card out of his jacket. “My invitation says the opposite.”
Ashford and Harring are totally baffled.
Okay, God helps those who help themselves… that’s what they say, isn’t it? Since I knew that Ashford would never invite Carter to the meet, I took one of the blank invitations, I put it in an envelope with his address on it, and I hid it among those to be sent.
“You look surprised,” Carter observes.
“I am. About what I did,” Ashford replies, holding the invitation in his hands with anger.
The field are gathering in the courtyard, so Ashford gives the invitation back to Carter. “It’s time to go.”
Ashford mounts his horse and rides through the crowd shouting ‘Tally ho’.