One of them had a smile as practised as Hugo's but it did nothing for Sarah. She just laughed lightheartedly, pretending that everything was wonderful and all was going just as she'd planned it. 'I thought that was my job!' Then she put her hand on a cashmere-jacketed arm. 'Fen, are we in time for lunch?' She could do charming too.

‘We're having it in the kitchen,' said Fenella. Her fake cheerfulness was less skilled than Sarah's. 'I thought it would be more cosy in there. The Aga's going full bore.' As the party filed through the house, Sarah could see a lot of work had gone on since she'd last seen it. But instead of the oohs and ahs of appreciation she was expecting, Sarah heard murmurs of disapproval. Anxiety clenched at her stomach and she hoped Fenella had provided wine. If Carrie turned down Somerby, which reeked of upper-class elegance, where on earth else could she provide that she would like and with only a month to go? If Carrie had a couple of glasses of something she might feel more positive.

The huge kitchen was a picture of country-house glamour, she thought. Fenella and Rupert had obviously made a real effort to make it look picturesque but practical and in her opinion, they'd brought it off superbly.

A huge variety of pots, pans and kitchenalia, antique and modern together, were displayed on the wall above the Aga and the range cooker. Copper-bottomed bowls, little pans, cheese-graters, nutmeg-graters, a wire egg basket shaped like a hen, balloon whisks, ladles, conical sieves hung next to spatulas, colanders, spoons and a string of garlic.

The enormous built-in dresser displayed a large collection of china jelly moulds, huge old serving platters, a set of pewter side plates and a random collection of breakfast saucers. Some of it was bright Majolica wear, some were faded English classic designs. None of it matched but all of it was quality. The hooks were hung with jugs and mugs and on the top was a basket full of flowers. In Sarah's opinion, it was a magazine editor's dream. She just hoped Carrie and her party appreciated it.

The long table was laid for lunch and Rupert, wearing a striped apron and a broad smile, took a huge roasting tin out of the oven.

‘Welcome to Somerby!' he declared. 'I thought as it was such a filthy day we'd have a proper bit of roast beef. Home-reared. With roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding.'

‘Er, Carrie doesn't eat red meat,' said Mandy. 'Nonsense!' said Rupert. 'You're not going to turn down organic beef reared on English grass. Full of nutrients you can't get any other way.’

Sarah held her breath. Rupert's bluntness might not be welcome and most Hollywood stars not only didn't eat meat, but also avoided anything likely to add even a millimetre to their already stick-like figures. This was the sort of thing she should have anticipated, she chided herself.

‘Well,' said Carrie, thankfully as charmed by Rupert as she was by Hugo, 'I guess it wouldn't hurt just once.’

‘Come and sit down,' said Fenella, who had also been holding her breath. 'Hugo, you go that end, Carrie, you go on one side, Mandy the other. You two..

With easy manners Fenella seated everyone, looking as if she was making the placement up as she went along, but Sarah could tell she'd thought about it carefully. She herself was placed between the two lawyers but she didn't feel like sitting down.

‘Can I do anything?' She spoke brightly as if totally confident that everything was under control.

‘Could you just take this water?' said Fenella, giving the same impression. 'And Hugo, can you pour wine for everyone?'

‘I don't drink-' Carrie began but Hugo's charm caused her to accept half a glass of wine from what appeared to be a very grand bottle. It even had dust on it.

Sarah was about to be impressed until she remembered that when there was building work going on, dust was inevitable.

‘So tell me, Carrie,' said Hugo, smiling into her eyes, 'what made you want a traditional English wedding?’

She smiled and shrugged. 'Well, you know Rick, my fiancé, is English, originally. But I guess I just fell in love with those great Jane Austen movies and when I saw Ashlyn's pictures..

‘Then it's my fault?' Hugo raised an eyebrow.

Carrie laughed, pushing him gently. 'Not your fault at all – just your skill that showed me what could be done.'

‘I promise you, Somerby can provide not only tradition but originality,' said Rupert with assurance. 'And that's a rare combination.’

Sarah smiled to herself. A rare combination indeed -virtually an oxymoron.

The meal was superb. Rupert was either a sensational cook or the beef was so good no one could ruin it, but it was tender and tasty. The roast potatoes were numerous and crunchy and the vegetables were piled high in platters, covered with butter. Gravy came in two-pint jugs, one up each end of the table.

To begin with, the two lawyers ate almost in silence, obviously relishing the food. Twice Rupert got up to carve more, and Sarah noticed that he'd cooked two huge joints of beef. Even Mandy and Carrie ate well. Hugo made sure that glasses were topped up, either with wine or with water, and everyone began to relax.

‘The thing about this place is its history, Carrie,' said Sarah, feeling obliged to get the conversation back to the matter in hand while Rupert retrieved massive apple pies from the oven.

‘Some of the rooms are a little bleak,' said Mandy. 'Carrie, you commented on that the moment you saw them, didn't you?'

‘Oh, Rupert!' said Hugo. 'Haven't you got your family portraits up yet, or are they still being cleaned?’

There was just the tiniest pause before Rupert answered and it could have been because he was finding space for a very hot dish. 'Oh yes, they are.'

‘Rupert has the most superb collection of family portraits going right back to the eighteenth century. Or did you get some of the earlier ones too?' Hugo went on expansively.

‘No,' said Fenella quickly, 'his brother got all those.' Hugo leant towards Carrie and whispered, 'His brother is a duke, you know.’

Sarah heard Carrie and Mandy gasp and wished that Hugo had chosen a less noble title for Rupert's brother to be. It would be so easy to check dukes – there weren't many of them. Still, if it did the trick, did she really care?

‘Family fortunes have declined a bit latterly,' said Rupert. 'Now, Carrie, if you'd kindly pass me those carrots, I'll have somewhere to put this down.'

‘You'd think the brother of a duke would have servants,' muttered one of the lawyers to Sarah.

‘Not these days,' said Sarah, 'very passé.’

Hoping he would know what passé meant, she sighed and took another sip of wine. It was very good, she decided, even if the dust was recent, and she really hoped Fenella and Rupert hadn't spent too much money on the lunch.

‘Cream from the farm next door,' said Rupert, putting a jug on the table that was almost as large as the gravy jugs had been. 'We feel strongly about food being as local and as seasonal as possible,' he added.

‘Does that mean it doesn't have calories in it?' asked Carrie, smiling prettily.

‘Only good calories,' said Fenella. 'Obviously we don't eat like this all the time or we'd be fat as pigs, but if you are going to have a traditional roast lunch, it's better if you know the provenance of everything.'

‘This pastry is fantastic. Melt-in-the-mouth,' said Hugo. 'Have another little slice, Carrie. Rupes, you really can cook.'

‘So can I,' muttered Fenella, 'but he's more flamboyant about it.’

When everyone was only just able to move, Fenella said, 'Well, I think we should have the proper tour now. Carrie and Mandy have only really seen the dining room, but I'd like them to see all the rooms, plus a couple of bedrooms that are finished now. More will be finished on the day, of course.’