A Weekend with Mr. Darcy (18 page)

‘Put it on!' Jace shouted above the laughing.

Robyn looked up at him. He was staring down at her with such a tender expression that she couldn't do anything other than obey him. The laughter died down a bit and the diners began to return to the table, partly in the hope that coffee was about to be served and partly because they were aware that the carpet underneath Perseus was now pungent.

‘I suppose we should try to get this horse outside,' Dame Pamela said at last. She approached Perseus, her beautiful jewelled shoes squelching on the carpet, and held a hand out to him, stroking his white blaze. ‘Dan!' she suddenly said. Robyn turned to see Dan enter the room. He'd obviously been running, and he wasn't looking very happy.

‘Get off that horse!' he yelled, glaring at Jace.

‘Oh, man! Here comes the cavalry,' Jace said.

Dan reached up towards Jace.

‘Take your hands off me, pal!'

‘Then get off this horse before I pull you off!'

Jace, who was wobbling like a Weeble, didn't need to be told twice. If he didn't get off now, he was very likely to fall off at some point soon. Everyone watched as he tumbled onto the floor, almost crashing into Dame Pamela.

‘This is outrageous,' Mrs Soames said. ‘I've never seen anything like it in my life. I shall be formally complaining about this.'

Dan stepped to one side, holding Perseus's reins in one hand and reaching out to move Robyn out of the way as he turned the horse to face the door.

‘Oi! That's my future wife!' Jace shouted before collapsing onto the floor, perilously close to where Perseus had left his mark.

‘Someone get him to bed,' Dame Pamela said. ‘Higgins—would you kindly do the honours? We'll make up a bed for him in the West Drawing Room. I think it very unlikely that he'll be able to make it upstairs, and he won't be able to do much damage in the drawing room.'

Higgins the butler, who'd been watching the proceedings from the relative safety of the door, was wearing an expression that didn't altogether agree with Dame Pamela's words.

‘Dan, get poor Perseus out of here.'

Dan nodded and led the horse away.

Robyn watched as he turned his back to look at her, his hurt visible in his eyes.

Poor Robyn,' Katherine said.

‘What makes you say that?' Warwick asked. They were standing by the window in her bedroom. It was the first time he'd been in her room.

‘Didn't you see how miserable she looked?'

‘I did notice that she wasn't smiling. Perhaps she was just in shock,' he suggested.

‘Shock? She doesn't love him, Warwick!'

‘How do you know that?'

‘Because she's in love with somebody else.'

Warwick stared at Katherine. ‘How do you know that?'

‘Because she told me.'

‘Who's she in love with?'

‘The guy from the stables.'

‘That strapping chap who came in for the horse?'

Katherine nodded.

‘But she's only just met him.'

‘And I've only just met you,' she said.

He smiled at her, walked towards her, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. ‘So you have.'

‘It can happen very quickly, you know,' she said.

‘You don't need to tell me that,' he said.

‘It's probably something to do with this place. Maybe there's some sort of spell on it that makes everyone fall in love.'

‘I haven't noticed anyone swooning over Mrs Soames yet.'

Katherine giggled. ‘Maybe Higgins the butler will take a shine to her.'

Warwick laughed, and then something caught his eye. There, on Katherine's bedside table, was a copy of
The Notorious Lady Fenton
. Without thinking, he walked across the room and picked it up.

‘Have you read it?' Katherine asked.

‘Yes,' he said. Well, that was a truth of sorts, wasn't it?

He flipped through the pages, noticing a Mr Darcy bookmark placed at the front.

‘Oh,' Katherine said. ‘You weren't meant to see that.'

‘Don't tell me, you bought it for a friend?' He smiled as he saw Katherine's embarrassment. ‘If they made an Elizabeth Bennet one, I would have bought it.'

‘I love this book,' she said, taking it off him and opening it about halfway through. ‘This scene,' she said, ‘at the ruined castle. It's wonderful.' She handed the book to Warwick and he skim-read the words he knew so well. He could remember the day he'd written them. He hadn't been too sure of the scene himself. Was it too over-the-top Gothic? Would his editor accuse him of hamming it up? But no. Tansy—the toughest editor in town—had adored it, and Lorna's readers had too. He'd known because the letters arrived by the sackful. And now here was dearest, loveliest Katherine singing the scene's praises too. It was too much. He knew he shouldn't push things, but the writer in him wanted to hear more.

‘So what was it in particular you liked about it?'

Katherine took the book off him again. ‘Everything, really,' she said. ‘The atmosphere Lorna Warwick creates—it's sinister but sexy at the same time. I love the little touches, like Isabella's fingers brushing the stone walls, and the way the moonlight makes the gargoyles seem alive.'

Warwick smiled.

‘Did you like it?'

‘Oh, yes. I did. It's not a bad piece of writing, I suppose.'

‘That's nice to hear. I mean, I know you're a Jane Austen fan, but it's good to hear a man praise a woman's work. It's rare when that happens. There's so much snootiness when it comes to reading, isn't there?'

Warwick nodded. It was no good. He was feeling bad again. Bad and wicked and foolish. But he was an author, and an author loves to be praised, and here, standing before him, was an ardent fan, and he couldn't help wanting to hear more from her. Was it really so wicked?

‘Which other scenes did you like?' he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Katherine cast her eyes up to the fine plaster ceiling. ‘I liked the scene where Isabella confronts Sir John. She just dazzles in that scene. She reminds me of Elizabeth when she turns down Darcy.'

Warwick couldn't help smiling. ‘I know exactly what you mean.'

‘And the wolfhound scene is hilarious. And the ending, of course. I love all of it. It's my favourite Lorna Warwick book, and there isn't a bad sentence in it.'

Warwick swelled with silent pride at her words. How wonderful it was to hear her thoughts. Of course, she'd told him all about her favourite book when she wrote to him as Lorna, but it was different hearing the words when you were in the same room.

Something occurred to him. Would Katherine confess such a thing? If he pushed her just a little, would she tell him about writing to Lorna Warwick?

‘It's a shame Lorna Warwick doesn't know how much you love the books,' he said, watching her closely for her response.

‘Oh, I'm sure she gets loads of letters from fans.'

‘I don't know,' Warwick said, stroking his chin. ‘Writers aren't exactly pop stars, are they? They lead such hidden, secretive lives. I mean, Lorna Warwick doesn't even go to public events, does she?'

‘No, I don't believe she does.'

‘I bet her mailbag is sorely empty,' Warwick said. ‘I bet she'd love to hear from someone like you.' He watched as Katherine gave a little smile. ‘What?'

‘Nothing,' she said, doing her best to hide her expression.

‘Tell me,' he said.

‘There's nothing to tell.'

‘Are you sure?' he asked, wondering if she would give up her great secret.

‘Well, maybe I could tell you, but you have to promise that it doesn't go any further.'

‘Of course,' he said. ‘I promise.'

‘I wrote a fan letter to Lorna Warwick.'

‘Really?' he said, quite impressed at how convincingly surprised he sounded.

Katherine nodded. ‘I couldn't help it. I just had to get in touch. Is that silly of me?'

‘No!' Warwick said with probably a little too much enthusiasm.

‘It's just… well… I can't write to Jane Austen, can I? And Lorna's books always make me feel so happy. They take me right out of myself, just as a good book should, and I really wanted to tell her that.'

‘So did she write back?'

Katherine smiled. ‘She did!'

‘Really? What did she say?'

Katherine gave Warwick a quizzical look. ‘I rather think that's between me and her, don't you?'

‘Oh, come on!'

‘I'm not telling you.'

Warwick walked towards her and placed his hands on her hips.

‘You can't get around me that way,' she said.

‘No?' he said, bending to kiss her.

‘Or that way.'

But the truth of the matter was he didn't mind. Either way, he was a winner.

***

It was the longest night Robyn had ever known. For most of it she sat on the window seat, staring out of the window onto the lawn. The moon was somewhere behind the cedar tree, and its shadow was thrown across the grass, eerily beautiful.

Robyn hadn't bothered to put a light on when she gave up on the idea of sleeping. The silver-edged darkness suited her mood, but there was something she wanted to do now so she crossed the room to switch on the lamp by her bed. A small yellow circle of light warmed the room, and Robyn picked up the little blue box that sat on the bed stand. She'd taken the ring off her finger and placed it in the box as soon as she was in the privacy of her room. Now she opened it again and looked at the three tiny but perfect diamonds. She was surprised at Jace's choice—it was a genuinely beautiful ring and not a choice she would have expected him to make. Not that she spent any time thinking about the sort of engagement ring Jace would pick out for her. That prospect had never crossed her mind. But what was she to do with it, and more importantly, what would she do with the life that would follow if she accepted the ring?

For a moment she tried to imagine what life would be like as Mrs Jace Collins, but the vision was too disturbing. She thought of the beer cans that would be placed on her beloved Austen books. The Saturday match would replace
Sense and Sensibility
on the television. He wouldn't want her reading in bed, and she knew for a fact that he objected to her posters: the Gwyneth Paltrow
Emma
one in the kitchen, the Greer Garson
Pride and Prejudice
one in the kitchen, and the Matthew Macfadyen one in the bedroom. They'd all have to go. She would be the one to compromise; she knew that. But these little things wouldn't matter so much if she truly loved him. She wouldn't miss a few posters and she could learn to ration her film consumption—she was sure she could.

‘If I loved him.'

But you don't love him
, the little voice inside her said, and she knew it was true. She didn't love Jace.

You love somebody else
, the little voice went on.

Crossing to the window again, she looked out across the darkened driveway towards the stables and remembered the hurt look on Dan's face as he left the dining room earlier that night. How different he had been from the smiling, laughing man of their afternoon ride. She'd been happy, sitting on the grassy bank with him, gazing up into the sky, and letting the conversation flow as easily as the river, yet just a few hours later, she felt as if she was the most miserable girl in the world. And how perverse it seemed to be miserable after having a proposal of marriage and being given a beautiful diamond ring! Wasn't it what every girl dreamed of?

‘Oh, God!' Robyn cried, screwing up her eyes and shaking her head. She was in such a muddle, and there was only one thing she wanted to do, and that was to see Dan. She had to talk to him and explain things. It couldn't wait until the morning.

She was wearing her favourite old floral pyjamas with the red wine stain down the front which was probably a secret best kept to herself. Grabbing her jeans, she dressed quickly, pulling on a T-shirt and a cotton jumper and thrusting her feet into a pair of sandals.

She unlocked her door and crept out into the hallway, closing and locking her door as quietly as possible. It felt strange walking around Purley in the middle of the night. The whole house was sleeping, and few lights had been left on. As she stood at the top of the great staircase, Robyn hesitated. Maybe she should return to her room and wait until morning. She wasn't even sure if there were alarms set in the house or if the front door would be locked. She could imagine how embarrassing it would be to wake everyone up with some screaming alarm on top of all the trouble she'd caused already. But something told her she'd be all right, and she simply had to talk to Dan. She couldn't bear for him to think badly of her for a single second longer than he had to.

Glancing around to make sure nobody had stirred, she crept down the stairs, her flat sandals silent on the thick carpet. It was easy to imagine oneself the mistress of the house at this time of night, with nobody else around. How amazing to live in such a place! What must that be like? Robyn wondered. Did Dame Pamela drift around the rooms swathed in chiffon, pretending to be a queen? Not that she needed to. She was already movie star royalty and had a title. She didn't need to pretend.

Stepping into the hallway, which was lit by only a single lamp on a gold console table, Robyn inched her way towards the front door. Well, she thought, she hadn't set any alarms off yet. It was looking promising.

The front door was, indeed, locked, but the key was in place and the two large bolts were easy to draw. Within moments she found herself at the top of the steps overlooking the gravel driveway and the moonlit lawn. She closed the door behind her and walked towards the stable block, her sandals crunching lightly on the gravel.

All of a sudden, it dawned on her that Dan might be asleep. She was assuming that he was as upset and unable to sleep as she, but what if he'd wiped her from his mind and was dreaming of somebody else already? He might not want to be disturbed. She chewed her lip but continued to walk. Even if he didn't want to see her, she had to talk to him and clear things. It was the only way.

After entering the stable block under the clock tower, she looked around her. All was quiet and all was dark. Dan wasn't sitting by a lit window brooding about her at all. He was sound asleep, wasn't he?

The sound of barking broke into the night, causing Robyn's heart to race. It was Biscuit, and soon Moby joined in, creating a horrible canine chorus that threatened to wake the whole of Hampshire.

‘Who's there?' Dan's voice came from his room in the clock tower and Robyn saw a light come on. She heard footsteps, together with a charge of dogs, and a door opened and light spilled into the stable yard.

‘Dan!'

‘Robyn?'

She took a step forward into the light.

‘What are you doing here?'