Worst Impressions

Chapter Fifty

Although Amanda had said that I could wear jeans, it still took me two hours to decide on an outfit. My bed was strewn with discarded dresses and skirts that either looked too casual or not casual enough. I didn't want to give off the impression that I was trying too hard for William's sake, but I also didn't want to look like I'd just rolled out of bed and shown up, putting no thought into it.

After much digging, I unearthed a pair of jeans I'd never worn before. They were a darker blue than I'd have liked, high-waisted and boot-cut, but they'd have to do. I paired them up with a thin, boat-necked white jumper with sleeves long enough that they passed my knuckles over a black spaghetti-strap vest so that no one could see my bra through the fabric. I wanted to make a good impression on William's mother and wearing a see-through top wouldn't do that. This was a woman with enough money and influence to have me expelled from the school if she so wished. I couldn't screw the evening up by being... well, by being myself.

I stood in front of the mirror and turned here and there, checking that my hair was behaving and that the natural waves hadn't rebelled and turned into unkempt patches of frizz, and that my make-up was natural and not too heavy. I spent so much time fretting about my own outfit that I barely gave a thought to what Dad might wear.

When I emerged from my room, I found him still wearing clothes stained with oil. It was unavoidable in our house, but I couldn't let him walk into someone else's home and leave stains on the furniture. Rather than trusting him to find his own clothes, I rolled up my sleeves and dug through his drawers until I found an acceptable shirt. I had to run the iron over it a few times to get out all the wrinkles. It was obvious that he hadn't worn it in years. Eventually, after many complaints, he looked halfway presentable.

'Should I have worn a tie?' he asked as we hopped out of his truck at Pemberley Manor.

'No, but I feel like I should have worn a dress,' I muttered as we headed to the door.

I had butterflies in my stomach. The house looked far more imposing at night than it had during the day. Illuminated, one could see just how impressive the building was against the surrounding landscape. I immediately regretted that we'd driven to the house rather than taking a cab. I was glad that it was dark and that no one could see the vehicle clearly. It looked out-of-place standing on the driveway. I was worried that someone might think it was a wreck and have it towed away during our dinner.

The door opened before we knocked. I wasn't sure what to do with my raised hand and dropped it pointlessly at my side. Henry grinned at me. 'You look nice. I'm almost jealous that I'm not having dinner with you.'

'Funny. Are we late?'

'No. They're waiting for you. I have to go into professional mode, now.'

'I get it. Do your thing,' I said.

Henry ushered us into the house and closed the door behind us. The vestibule was a vast space with an elegant, modern lighting installation hanging from the cavernous ceiling. Henry led the way toward the nearest door, and we were soon back in the open living space I'd thought was so beautiful when I'd been given my impromptu tour. Henry cleared his throat gently to gain the attention of the room. In a clear voice, he announced, 'Mr Bennett and Miss Bennett have arrived.'

'Finally!' Amanda pushed the fashion magazine off her lap and cut off Chantelle, who was in the middle of talking about something in the article. Amanda raced over and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I froze up and didn't move until she let me go. When I was free, I smiled at her nervously. She grinned and said, 'Love the jeans.'

'Ditto.'

'You look like you made an effort. I wonder who that was for...'

'Me?' I asked. 'Nah. I just threw on any old thing.'