Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

20

Boston in August is as beautiful a city as any in America, and the Team enjoyed a large breakfast in James’s room.

‘I don’t think he looks up to it,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘You’re the captain of the Team, Stephen. I volunteer to take his place.’

‘It’ll cost you $250,000.’

‘Agreed,’ said Jean-Pierre.

‘You don’t have $250,000,’ said Stephen. ‘You have $187,474.69, being one quarter of what’s been raised so far, so my decision is that James must be the bridegroom.’

‘It’s an Anglo-Saxon plot,’ said Jean-Pierre, ‘and when James has successfully completed his plan and we have the full amount, I shall reopen negotiations.’

They sat talking and laughing for a long time over the toast and coffee. Stephen regarded them fondly, regretting how rarely they would meet once, if, he corrected himself sternly, James’s operation were accomplished successfully. If Harvey Metcalfe had ever had a team like this on his side instead of against him, he would have been the richest man in the world.

‘You’re dreaming, Stephen.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry. I mustn’t forget that Anne has put me in charge.’

‘Here we go again,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘What time shall we report, Professor?’

‘One hour from now, fully dressed to inspect James and take him to the church. Jean-Pierre, you will go and buy four carnations — three red ones and one white. Robin, you will arrange for the taxi and I shall take care of James.’

Robin and Jean-Pierre left, singing the Marseillaise lustily in two different keys. James and Stephen watched them depart.

‘How are you feeling, James?’

‘Great. I’m only sorry that I didn’t complete my plan before today.’

‘Doesn’t matter at all. September 13th will be quite early enough. In any case, the break will do us no harm.’

‘We’d never have managed it without you. You know that, don’t you, Stephen? We’d all be facing ruin and I wouldn’t even have met Anne. We all owe you so much.’

Stephen stared fixedly out of the window, unable to reply.

‘Three red and one white,’ said Jean-Pierre, ‘as instructed, and I presume the white one is for me.’

‘Pin it on James. Not behind his ear, Jean-Pierre.’

‘You look fantastic, but I still fail to see what the lady sees in you,’ said Jean-Pierre, fixing the white carnation in James’s buttonhole. Although the four of them were ready to leave, they still had half an hour to kill before the taxi was due. Jean-Pierre opened a bottle of champagne and they toasted James’s health, the Team’s health, Her Majesty The Queen, the President of the United States, and finally, with simulated reluctance, the President of France. Having finished the bottle, Stephen thought it wise for them to leave immediately and dragged the other three down to the waiting taxi.

‘Keep smiling, James. We’re with you.’

And they bundled him into the back.

The taxi took only a few minutes to reach Trinity Church, Copley Square, and the driver was not unhappy to be rid of the four of them.

‘3.15 pm Anne will be very pleased with me,’ said Stephen.

He escorted the bridegroom to the front pew on the right-hand side of the church, while Jean-Pierre made eyes at the prettiest of the girls. Robin helped hand out the wedding sheets while one thousand overdressed guests waited for the bride.

Stephen had just come to Robin’s aid on the steps of the church and Jean-Pierre had joined them, suggesting they take their seats, when the Rolls Royce arrived. They were riveted to the steps by the beauty of Anne in her Balenciaga wedding gown. Her father stepped out behind her. She took his arm and proceeded to climb the steps.

The three stood motionless, like sheep in the stare of a python.

‘The bastard.’

‘Who’s been conning who?’

‘She must have known all along.’

Harvey beamed vaguely at them as he walked past with Anne on his arm. They proceeded down the aisle.

‘Good God,’ thought Stephen. ‘He didn’t recognize any of us.’

They took their places at the back of the church, out of earshot of the vast congregation. The organist stopped playing when Anne reached the altar.

‘Harvey can’t know,’ said Stephen.

‘How do you work that out?’ asked Jean-Pierre.

‘Because James would never have put us through this unless he’d passed the test himself at some earlier date.’

‘Good thinking,’ whispered Robin.

‘I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed...’

‘I’d like to know one or two secrets right now,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘To start with, how long has she known?’

‘James Clarence Spencer, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the Holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?’

‘I will.’

‘Rosalie Arlene, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live...’

‘I think,’ said Stephen, ‘we can be sure that she’s a fully fledged member of the Team; otherwise we could never have succeeded at Monte Carlo or Oxford.’

‘...so long as ye both shall live?’

‘I will.’

‘Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?’

Harvey bustled forward and took Anne’s hand and gave it to the priest.

‘I James Clarence Spencer, take thee, Rosalie Arlene, to my wedded wife...’

‘And what’s more, why should he recognize us when he’s only seen each of us once, and not as we really are,’ continued Stephen.

‘And thereto I plight thee my troth.’

‘I, Rosalie Arlene, take thee, James Clarence Spencer, to my wedded husband...’

‘But he must have a chance of working it out if we hang around,’ said Robin.

‘Not necessarily,’ said Stephen. ‘No need to panic. Our secret has always been to catch him off home ground.’

‘But now he’s on home ground,’ said Jean-Pierre.

‘No, he isn’t. It’s his daughter’s wedding day and it’s totally strange to the man. Naturally, we avoid him at the reception, but we don’t make it too obvious.’

‘You’ll have to hold my hand,’ said Robin.

‘I will,’ volunteered Jean-Pierre.

‘Just remember to act naturally.’

‘...and thereto I give thee my troth.’

Anne was quiet and shy, her voice only just reaching the astonished three at the back. James’s was clear and firm:

‘With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow...’

‘And with some of ours too,’ said Jean-Pierre.

‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’

‘Let us pray,’ intoned the priest.

‘I know what I’m going to pray,’ said Robin. ‘To be delivered out of the power of our enemy and from the hands of all that hate us.’

‘O Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind...’

‘We’re near the end now,’ said Stephen.

‘An unfortunate turn of phrase,’ offered Robin.

‘Silence,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘I agree with Stephen. We’ve got the measure of Metcalfe, just relax.’

‘Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.’

Jean-Pierre continued mumbling to himself, but it didn’t sound like a prayer.

The blast of Handel’s Wedding March from the organ brought them all back to the occasion. The ceremony was over and Lord and Lady Brigsley walked down the aisle watched by two thousand smiling eyes. Stephen looked amused, Jean-Pierre envious, and Robin nervous. James smiled beatifically as he passed them.

After a ten-minute session for the photographers on the steps of the church, the Rolls Royce carried the newly married couple back to the Metcalfes’ house in Lincoln. Harvey and the Countess of Louth took the second car, and the Earl and Arlene, Anne’s mother, took the third. Stephen, Robin and Jean-Pierre followed some twenty minutes later, still arguing the pros and cons of bearding the lion in his own den.

Harvey Metcalfe’s Georgian house was magnificent, with an oriental garden leading down to a lake, great beds of roses and in the conservatory his pride and joy, his collection of rare orchids.

‘I never thought I’d see this,’ said Jean-Pierre.

‘Nor me,’ said Robin, ‘and now that I have, I’m not too happy.’

‘Let’s run the gauntlet,’ said Stephen. ‘I suggest that we join the receiving line at well-separated intervals. I’ll go first. Robin, you come second, at least twenty places behind, and Jean-Pierre, you come third, at least twenty places behind Robin, and act naturally. We’re just friends of James’s from England. Now, when you take your places in the queue, listen to the conversation. Try and find someone who’s a close friend of Harvey’s and jump immediately in front of them. When it comes to your turn to shake hands, Harvey’s eyes will already be on the next person because he won’t know you and will want to talk to them. That way we should escape.’

‘Brilliant, Professor,’ said Jean-Pierre.

The queue seemed interminably long. A thousand people shuffled past the outstretched hands of Mr and Mrs Metcalfe, the Earl and Countess of Louth, and Anne and James. Stephen eventually made it and passed with flying colors.

‘So glad you could come,’ said Anne.

Stephen did not reply.

‘Good to see you, Stephen.’

‘We all admire your plan, James.’

Stephen slipped into the main ballroom and hid behind a pillar on the other side of the room, as far as he could be from the multi-story wedding cake in the center.

Robin was next and avoided looking Harvey in the eyes.

‘How kind of you to come all this way,’ said Anne.

Robin mumbled something under his breath.

‘Hope you’ve enjoyed yourself today, Robin?’

James was obviously having the time of his life. After being put through it in the same way by Anne, he was relishing the Team’s discomfiture.

‘You’re a bastard, James.’

‘Not too loud, old fellow. My mother and father might hear you.’

Robin slipped through to the ballroom and, after a search behind all the pillars, found Stephen.

‘Did you get through all right?’

‘I think so, but I don’t want to see him ever again. What time is the plane back?’

‘8 pm Now don’t panic. Keep your eye out for Jean-Pierre.’

‘Bloody good thing he kept his beard,’ said Robin.

Jean-Pierre shook hands with Harvey, who was already intent on the next guest as Jean-Pierre had, by shameless queue-barging, managed to secure a place in front of a Boston banker who was obviously a close friend of Harvey’s.

‘Good to see you, Marvin.’

Jean-Pierre had escaped. He kissed Anne on both cheeks, whispered in her ear, ‘Game, set and match to James,’ and went off in search of Stephen and Robin. He forgot his original instructions when he found himself face to face with the chief bridesmaid.

‘Did you enjoy the wedding?’ she asked.

‘Of course. I always judge weddings by the bridesmaids, not the bride.’

She blushed with pleasure.

‘This must have cost a fortune,’ she continued.

‘Yes, my dear, and I know whose,’ said Jean-Pierre, slipping his arm around her waist.

Four hands grabbed a protesting Jean-Pierre and unceremoniously dragged him behind the pillar.

‘For God’s sake, Jean-Pierre. She’s not a day over seventeen. We don’t want to go to jail for rape of a juvenile as well as theft. Drink this and behave yourself.’ Robin thrust a glass of champagne into his hand.

The champagne flowed and even Stephen had a little too much. They were all clinging to their pillar for support by the time the toastmaster called for silence.

‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen. Pray silence for the Viscount Brigsley, the bridegroom.’

James made an impressive speech. The actor in him took over and the Americans adored it. Even his father had a look of admiration on his face. The toastmaster then introduced Harvey, who spoke long and loud. He cracked his favorite joke about marrying off his daughter to Prince Charles, at which the assembled guests roared heartily as they always do at weddings, even for the weakest joke. He ended by calling the toast for the bride and groom.

When the applause had died down, and the hubbub of chatter had struck up again, Harvey took an envelope from his pocket and kissed his daughter on the cheek.

‘Rosalie, here’s a little wedding present for you, to make up for letting me keep the Van Gogh. I know you’ll put it to good use.’

Harvey passed her the white envelope. Inside there was a check for $250,000. Anne kissed her father with genuine affection.

‘Thank you, Daddy, I promise you James and I will use it wisely.’

She hurried off in pursuit of James, whom she found besieged by a group of American matrons:

‘Is it true you’re related to the Queen...?’

‘I never met a real live lord...’

‘I do hope you’ll invite us over to see your castle...?’

‘There are no castles in the King’s Road,’ said James, relieved to be rescued by Anne.

‘Darling, can you spare me a minute?’

James excused himself and followed Anne, but they found it almost impossible to escape the crowd.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘Quickly.’

James took the check.

‘Good God — $250,000.’

‘You know what I’m going to do with it, don’t you?’

‘Yes, darling.’

Anne hunted for Stephen, Robin and Jean-Pierre, which was not an easy task as they were still hidden behind a pillar in the far corner. She was eventually guided to the spot by the subdued but spirited rendering of ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’ issuing from behind it.

‘Can you lend me a pen, Stephen?’

Three pens shot out for her use.

She took the check from the middle of her bouquet and wrote on its back, ‘Rosalie Brigsley — pay Stephen Bradley.’ She handed it to him.

‘Yours, I believe.’

The three of them stared at the check. She was gone before they could even comment.

‘What a girl our James has gone and married,’ said Jean-Pierre.

‘You’re drunk, you frog,’ said Robin.

‘How dare you, sir, suggest that a Frenchman could get drunk on champagne. I demand satisfaction. Choose your weapons.’

‘Champagne corks.’

‘Quiet,’ said Stephen. ‘You’ll give yourselves away.’

‘Well now, tell me, Professor, what’s the latest financial position?’

‘I’m just working it out now,’ said Stephen.

‘What?’ said Robin and Jean-Pierre together, but they were too happy to argue.

‘He still owes us $101 and 24 cents.’

‘Disgraceful,’ said Jean-Pierre. ‘Burn the place down.’

Anne and James left to change, while Stephen, Robin and Jean-Pierre forced down some more champagne. The toastmaster announced that the bride and groom would be leaving in approximately fifteen minutes and requested the guests to gather in the main hall and courtyard.

‘Come on, we must watch them go,’ said Stephen. The drink had given them new confidence and they took their places near the car.

It was Stephen who heard Harvey say, ‘God damn it. Do I have to think of everything?’ and watched him look around his guests until his eyes fell on the trio. Stephen’s legs turned to jelly as Harvey’s finger beckoned him.

‘Hey, you, weren’t you an usher?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Rosalie is going to leave at any moment and there are no flowers for her. God knows what’s happened to them, but there are no flowers. Grab a car. There’s a florist half a mile down the road, but hurry.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Say, don’t I know you from somewhere?’

‘Yes, sir. I mean, no sir. I’ll go and get the flowers.’

Stephen turned and fled. Robin and Jean-Pierre, who had been watching horrified, thinking that Harvey had at last rumbled them, ran after him. When he reached the back of the house, Stephen came to a halt and stared at the most beautiful bed of roses. Robin and Jean-Pierre shot straight past him, stopped, turned around and staggered back.

‘What the hell are you up to — picking flowers for your own funeral?’

‘It’s only Metcalfe’s wishes. Somebody forgot the flowers for Anne and I have five minutes to get them, so start picking.’

‘Mes enfants, do you see what I see?’

The others looked up. Jean-Pierre was staring rapturously at the conservatory.

Stephen rushed back to the front of the house, the prize orchids in his arms, followed by Robin and Jean-Pierre. He was just in time to pass them over to Harvey before James and Anne came out of the house.

‘Magnificent. They’re my favorite flowers. How much were they?’

‘$100,’ replied Stephen, without thinking.

Harvey handed over two $50 bills. Stephen retreated, sweating, to join Robin and Jean-Pierre.

James and Anne fought their way through the crowd. No man in the gathering could take his eyes off her.

‘Oh Daddy, orchids, how beautiful.’ Anne kissed Harvey. ‘You’ve made this the most wonderful day in my life...’

The Rolls Royce moved slowly down the drive away from the large crowd on its way to the airport, where James and Anne were to catch the flight to San Francisco, their first stop on the way to Hawaii. As the car glided round the house, Anne stared at the empty conservatory and then at the flowers in her arms. James did not notice. He was thinking of other things.

‘Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?’ he said.

‘I’m sure they’ll find a way, darling. But do let me into a secret. Did you really have a plan?’

‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist asking me that, and the truth is...’

The car purred effortlessly along the highway and only the chauffeur heard his reply.

Stephen, Robin and Jean-Pierre watched the guests dispersing, most of them saying their good-byes to the Metcalfes.

‘Don’t let’s risk it,’ said Robin.

‘Agreed,’ said Stephen.

‘Let’s invite him out to dinner,’ said Jean-Pierre.

The other two grabbed him and threw him into a taxi.

‘What’s that you have under your morning coat, Jean-Pierre?’

‘Two bottles of Krug dix-neuf cent soixante-quatre. It seemed such a shame to leave them there on their own. I thought they might get lonely.’

Stephen instructed the driver to take them back to the hotel.

‘What a wedding. Do you think James ever had a plan?’ asked Robin.

‘I don’t know, but if he has it will only have to bring in $1.24.’

‘We should have retrieved the money he made from his win on Rosalie at Ascot,’ mused Jean-Pierre.

After packing and signing out of the hotel, they took another taxi to Logan International Airport and, with considerable help from the British Airways staff, managed to board the plane.

‘Damn,’ said Stephen. ‘I wish we hadn’t left without the $1.24.’