“Letherby Hall?” scoffs Alicia. “Are you nuts?”

But I ignore her. “Look at the facts, Suze. Why does Alicia keep asking questions about your house? Why is she interested in the title that goes with the property? Because…” I count off on my fingers. “Her husband’s an Anglophile. They’d love to be lord and lady of the manor. She wants your house. She wants your title…and probably all your family jewelry too.”

This last has only just occurred to me, but I’m sure I’m right. Alicia would love all those ancient tiaras and stuff. (Suze thinks most of them are gross, and I kind of agree.)

“Becky, you’re even more deluded than I thought.” Alicia bursts into mocking laughter. “Why would I want Letherby Hall, for Christ’s sake?”

“You don’t fool me, Alicia.” I give her a glacial look. “It’s a top stately home and you’re a snob. Don’t think we don’t know you’re a social climber.”

Alicia glances from me to Suze and back again—but this time she doesn’t turn mauve. She seems genuinely incredulous.

“Social climber? In England? You really think Wilton and I want to spend our days in some freezing-cold monstrosity with no under-floor heating and yokels for neighbors?”

Monstrosity? I feel such a surge of indignation on Suze’s behalf, I can’t help crying out, “Letherby Hall isn’t a monstrosity! It’s a highly regarded Georgian house, with an original paneled library and particularly fine parkland landscaped in 1752!”

I had no idea I knew any of that. I must have been concentrating harder than I thought when Tarkie’s dad was telling me about it.

“Whatever. Believe me.” Alicia looks pityingly at Suze. “There are things I’d rather spend my money on than a pile of crumbling old bricks.”

“How dare you!” I’m totally fired up now. “Don’t you insult Suze’s house! And why were you asking about it so much if you’re not interested?”

There. Ha! I’ve got her.

“I had to make small talk somehow.” Alicia flicks her eyes disparagingly at Suze. “There’s only so much one can say about that ridiculous husband of yours. I mean, really, Suze. Yawn.”

I think I could hit Alicia right now.

But I won’t do that. Instead, I glance over at Suze, who says in a shaky voice, “I think you should go, Alicia.”

And we all stand like statues as she stalks away.

—

Some things are almost too big to talk about straightaway. It’s Danny who comes to life first, says, “Drink,” and leads us into a nearby bar tent. As we sip some apple punch, he tells us all about his new collection for Elinor and shows us his drawings—and, actually, it’s the perfect thing to do right now. That’s exactly what Suze needs to focus on: something that isn’t her own messed-up life.

At last he closes his sketchbook, and we all meet eyes, as though picking up where we were. But still I can’t bear to bring up the topic of Alicia. I don’t even want to give her air space.