A Weekend with Mr. Darcy (27 page)

How quickly the months slipped by when one was writing a book! After an almost impossible time, Warwick finally got himself sorted out, shunning further publicity and focussing on the new book. Week after week vanished in a mad flurry of words, until one day, Warwick looked out of his study window and noticed that the lawn was white with frost.

It was the middle of December.

His new heroine was called Katherine and she had pale, luminous skin, dark eyes, and a mass of dark hair that she wore loose over her shoulders. She was strong and intelligent and never let the hero get away with anything. It really was a very thinly disguised character but he couldn't help himself.

‘As least my hero gets his happy ending with her,' he said to himself as he looked out across the garden towards a holly hedge stuffed with scarlet berries.

He worked through his novel, the daylight hours shortening until it became necessary to have his desk lamp on throughout most of his working hours. One day when he was hunting for a booklet about a stately home he felt sure would make the perfect house for one of his characters, he came across Katherine's letters. He thought they were safely shut away from view and that they would no longer torment him but when he opened that filing cabinet, all the feelings he felt sure he'd banished came tumbling out again. He still loved her and he missed her more than ever.

His novel forgotten, he sat on the floor of his study with the letters spilled around him and he read them.

It was wonderful to get your latest letter. How I look forward to them! They are the highlights of my very dull weeks. Last week I was rereading one in class. I'd hidden it in a copy of
Jane Eyre
so that my students wouldn't see and when I read that bit about that squirrel running off with your sandwich, I burst out laughing! I told my students that they should be focussing on their work and not concerning themselves with what I was doing.

Warwick smiled as he finished reading the letter and then picked up another one.

I know we've been writing to each other for only a short time but I really do feel as if I can tell you things—things that nobody else knows about me. I don't think I've ever trusted anyone as much as I trust you.

Warwick swallowed hard. He could hardly bear to read those words again, so picked up another letter.

Winchester is such a special place. I love it for Christmas shopping and I always go there on the 16th of December because that's Jane Austen's birthday. Have you been to the cathedral? Her grave is in the north aisle. It's the most amazing place and draws so many people to it. I love my trips there.

December sixteenth.

Warwick scrambled up from the floor, grabbing his desk diary. That was tomorrow! Katherine was going to be in Winchester Cathedral tomorrow. She couldn't hide from him there like she could in St Bridget's College or her home. She would be in public and in plain view of him. She'd have to talk to him then. She'd
have
to listen to him.

There was only one question hovering in Warwick's mind as he held her letter in his hand. Could Katherine ever forgive him?

***

How on earth could it be December already? Katherine wondered as she looked out of the train window onto the misty fields of Hampshire. It didn't seem a minute since term had begun in September. Katherine always loved the bright promise of a new academic year and this one had been particularly splendid.

And now it was December. How had that happened?

She sighed. It was strange but although time had flown by in many ways, Purley seemed like a lifetime ago and Katherine had done her very best to banish it from her mind. She spent her time in quiet solitude in her little Oxfordshire village, surrounding herself with books while she researched her next Jane Austen nonfiction title. This one focussed on the letters between Jane and Cassandra, and the wonderfully witty pages she read almost banished Warwick from her mind. Almost but not quite.

There'd been that awful day when he called at her house. She hadn't expected it and hid in the hallway with all the doors shut until her neighbour had come to her rescue.

‘I chased him off wiv me broom,' Mrs Rushton told her. ‘He didn't look happy to see me, I can tell you!'

Katherine dared to smile at the memory.

Things had gone quiet after that. Warwick's letters stopped and there were no more hammering-on-the-door incidents. Of course she tortured herself rereading his letters and reading them with a new perspective and spying all the little white lies dotted throughout them. How easy it was to see, now, she thought.

But how she missed those letters from Lorna! As Katherine read them again, she couldn't help thinking that all the qualities she'd loved so much in Lorna were actually Warwick's qualities. Or had Warwick faked everything? It was hard to tell the truth from fiction, and Katherine finally gave up trying, but how she missed her old friend and all their wonderful confidences!

She looked out of the window and saw that Winchester was fast approaching. She dwelled on the fact that she not only lost her lover that autumn, but she also lost her very best friend. She had to move on, though, and what better way to banish miserable thoughts than with a bit of Christmas shopping?

‘There are so many good shops here… one can step out of doors and get a thing in five minutes.' That's what Mrs Allen had said about Bath in
Northanger Abbey
, and Katherine felt the same way about Winchester. Once she ticked everybody off her Christmas list, she'd visit the cathedral. It was her annual treat and she wasn't going to let anything get her down that day because it was a Jane Day.

The sixteenth of December was Jane Austen's birthday. Katherine had always thought it rather wonderful that she'd been born so close to Christmas Day. Wasn't that the most perfect gift to the world? Katherine would walk the length and breadth of the great building, pay her respects to her favourite author and light a candle in her memory.

Hopping off the train, she made her way to the town centre, determined that despite the upsets earlier in the year, she was going to do her very best to enjoy the Christmas holidays.

Warwick arrived at the cathedral as soon as it opened and had soon seen all there was to see—twice, paying his respects to every single grave, including one that belonged to a dear fellow called Francis Francis. Warwick's feet had echoed up and down the stone tiles and he needed to sit.

It would be easy to miss Katherine in such a huge building. She could be in and out in the time it took him to walk down the nave but he had an advantage. He knew exactly where she would be and there were seats to ease his waiting near the very spot.

Jane Austen's grave was in the north aisle and Warwick took a seat in the nave. It was partially obscured by a great pillar but he wouldn't be easily spotted because she wouldn't be looking for him, would she? He just had to make himself as comfortable as possible and hope that she arrived before he dropped off to sleep. He was positioned near a great fat radiator that was doing a good job of warming his little corner of the cathedral, and it would be terrible if he fell asleep and missed his big chance.

He spent a while reading, first the cathedral information leaflet and then the children's guide which he thought much more interesting. He then got his notepad out and started writing a short story, all the time looking up to make sure he didn't miss Katherine.

The low-backed wooden chair was comfortable enough for a few minutes, but it wasn't long before Warwick felt his bum going numb. He picked up the small green hymnal in front of him and flipped through it, reading the words of Percy Dearmer.

A brighter dawn is breaking,

And earth with praise is waking

‘Let's hope so, Percy. Let's hope so.'

What if it all went wrong? What if Katherine screamed at him and made a big scene in front of the whole of Winchester? What if she threw chairs at him across the nave? Or worse—what if she didn't show up at all?

He looked at his watch. There was time yet. He mustn't panic.

***

It was cold enough for snow.

The sky was darkening when Katherine made her way to the cathedral. Strings of white lights threaded through the trees overhead. She'd managed to tick everything off her Christmas list and got a few gorgeous extras besides. The Christmas market, with its tiny wooden huts huddled around the cathedral, had been addictive, and Katherine bought a red berry wreath for her front door, the softest of shawls for her aunt and an indulgent bag of creamy fudge she couldn't resist plundering as she watched the skaters on the ice rink.

And then it was time.

As she entered the cathedral through the great red door, she breathed a sigh of relief. There were a few tourists around but it wasn't nearly as crowded as the shops had been. Katherine was always surprised that other people should want to visit Jane Austen's grave. Selfishly she wanted Jane to herself, but her grave was a popular spot with tourists whose toes strayed onto the sacred spot and cameras flashed at the words on the gravestone. Katherine would wait patiently for her turn, lighting a candle for Jane not because
she
was religious but because Jane had been. She waited for the crowds to clear and then walked towards the aisle, reading the familiar words etched into the stone.

Every year was the same. Katherine felt a sudden swell of emotion and had to blink rapidly to avoid tears falling, and then she'd sigh. How could she get emotional about a person who died two hundred years earlier—a person she didn't know at all?

‘But I
do
know her,' Katherine said to herself.

And each year, the same things upset her. The grave above Jane's belonged to a Frances Dorothy Littlehales, who had died at the age of seventy-one. That was thirty years more than Jane had been given. How unfair that seemed to Katherine! She always wondered what Jane would have done with so many more years. What wonders would she have written?

***

Warwick's eyes and thoughts wandered. He gazed up at the cathedral's astonishing roof. Imagine the weight if it all came crashing down, he thought. How many houses could you build with the masonry?

He turned around to look at the view behind him. He liked the huge West Window. The colours were so sparse that the window was almost completely transparent but there wasn't much light to be let in that day, and what little there was, was fast fading. An enormous Christmas tree stood under the window, sparkling with white lights. Together with the groups of tiny bright candles, the lights did their best to brighten up the dark spaces, but it was a losing battle and, by four o'clock, the north aisle was almost in total darkness.

He was just thinking how easy it would be to slip under the spell of religion and superstition in such a place when he saw her. She was wearing a bright pink hat with matching gloves and scarf and her long dark hair was loose. An icy little wind had nipped her nose scarlet and her cheeks were flushed with colour too. She was laden with shopping bags when she stopped by the grave of Jane Austen.

At first he couldn't move but stared at her as if she were some kind of mirage. She had no idea he was there and he remained seated, half-hidden behind the great stone pillar, watching her as she looked down at the grave in the aisle. This was the moment he'd been waiting for but suddenly he felt unsure of what to do.

Then, swallowing hard, he got up and walked towards her.

Katherine wasn't sure what made her look up at that moment but when she did, she saw him standing there. Her name was formed on his lips but no sound came out.

‘Warwick?' she said, watching as he walked towards her, stopping just short of the gravestone.

‘Got anything in there for me?' he asked.

‘What?'

‘Christmas presents,' he said, nodding to her bags.

‘No,' she said.

‘Oh.'

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Warwick was the first to speak. ‘There are a lot of bishops here,' he said. ‘I've never seen such amazing monuments. Have you seen them all?'

‘Yes, I've seen them all. Warwick, what are you doing here?' she said in a tone that suggested that Winchester Cathedral was in her jurisdiction and that he did not have visiting rights.

Warwick raked a hand through his hair. ‘I came to talk to you.'

‘I didn't ask you to.'

‘But you gave me no choice. You wouldn't answer my letters. What was I meant to do?'

‘But that was all weeks ago. You stopped writing me letters weeks ago.'

‘I know. What was the point of writing more if you weren't reading them?'

‘Then you should have taken the hint,' she said. ‘I've got to go.' Katherine made a move towards the exit.

‘Katherine
!' Warwick suddenly leapt forward to block her way. ‘Listen to me—
please!'

For a moment she didn't look at him but then she raised her dark eyes to his, her face a mixture of sadness and annoyance. ‘What do you want?' she asked him.

He looked at her and there was real longing in his eyes. ‘I want us to be the way we were at Purley. I want my dear friend back. I want to hold my lover in my arms again. I want to say I'm sorry.'

Her gaze met his but she was unable to speak. She simply shook her head.

‘Katherine—I'm more sorry than I can ever say. You believe me, don't you? Say you believe me!'

‘Warwick… I…' she stopped. ‘All those things you said to me—the way you used my letters, the endless lies you told me—you were making fun of me.'

‘
No!
I wasn't. I wasn't
ever
making fun of you. It was wrong of me—
so
wrong. I just wanted you to like me for who I really was.'

‘Have you any idea how it made me feel when I found out who you really were? I've never felt so used in my life. You really hurt me,' she said.

Warwick looked down at the floor. ‘I know, and I hate myself for it. I never
ever
meant to hurt you. Things just got out of hand.'

‘Yes, they did,' she said. ‘You let them get out of hand. You arrived at Purley knowing exactly who I was but you didn't give me the opportunity to know who
you
were—who you
really
were. Not once did you say to me, “Katherine, there's something I should tell you” or “Katherine, I've been lying to you this whole time, but I want to tell you the truth now.” Not once, Warwick. You could have said something at any time, but you didn't.'

‘And I really want to make up for that. Please, give me a chance.'

They were silent for a moment, but then Katherine sighed. ‘Look, I can't fight here. It's not right—not so close to Jane,' she said, making a move towards the great door.

‘Then let's go outside.'

‘I'm not sure I want to go anywhere with you.' Katherine stopped again.

Warwick gave a sigh and raked a hand through his hair. ‘Darcy got a second chance,' he suddenly said.

‘Pardon?'

‘Darcy. Elizabeth gave him a second chance. If she hadn't, they might never have married and lived happily ever after.'

‘Yes, but he redeemed himself.'

‘And if you had any sisters I could rescue, perhaps I could redeem myself,' Warwick said.

‘That's not funny.'

His shoulders slumped. ‘I'm sorry.'

They were silent again for a moment.

‘I wish you'd read my letters,' Warwick said at last. ‘They were full of all the things I should have told you at Purley—
before
Purley. And all the things I've thought to say since. I haven't stopped thinking of the way I behaved and the way I
should
have behaved. I can't believe what a fool I was to jeopardise your trust. You were my best friend. More than that. You were my… my—' he paused and took a deep breath, seeming to inhale all the air in the cathedral before letting it out in a long sigh. ‘I was in love with you. I
am
in love with you.'

He stood perfectly still and something in the way he spoke moved Katherine and she looked up at him. His face was pale and he looked agitated, as if he'd missed a week's worth of sleep.

‘You believe that, don't you?' he said.

Katherine didn't know how to respond. This encounter was the very last thing she expected that day, and she had no idea what to say to him. ‘How did you know I'd be here?' she asked.

‘You told me,' he said. ‘In one of your letters.'

She nodded as she remembered, and she couldn't help thinking that her letters betrayed her yet again.

‘You shouldn't have written so many letters,' Katherine suddenly found herself saying. ‘You should've been writing your next book.'

‘I was. I am. And I've got my latest one too,' he said, digging in a carrier bag and pulling out a hardback and handing it to Katherine. ‘It's out next week.'

As much as she wanted to ignore him, she found that she couldn't, and the Lorna Warwick fan she'd kept hidden away for many months got the better of her, and she reached out and took the book.

It had a beautiful young heroine on the cover, as all the books did, and there was a Gothic castle in the background and a black stallion rearing.

Christina and the Count
, she read. Katherine smiled and wondered if she could run away to a quiet corner of the cathedral and read it.

‘Open it,' Warwick told her.

She looked at him.

‘Go on,' he said.

She opened the cover and flipped through the pages, wondering what he wanted her to see. On the fifth page, she found out. It was the dedication.

To Katherine—forgive me.

Despite all common sense, better judgement, and the strength of her willpower, Katherine felt her eyes fill with tears.

‘Your favourite novel's
Persuasion
, isn't it?' Warwick said. ‘So you know what it is to make a mistake. Just look at Anne Elliot. But you forgive her, don't you? You want her to have her second chance at love and a happy ending, don't you?'

‘But Captain Wentworth still wants Anne.'

Warwick stared at her. ‘You don't want me?'

Katherine's mouth narrowed into a line of indecision. ‘It's not that I don't…' she paused. What was she trying to say? She looked down at the two simple words he'd written to her.
Forgive me.
She wanted to, she really did, but something was holding her back.

‘You hurt me, Warwick, and I've been hurt so many times now. I don't want to go through that again.'

‘But I couldn't possibly hurt you again!' Warwick's eyes were wide. ‘There are no more nasty surprises. I
promise
you! You know all my dark secrets now. They're all out there. You've found them all out!'

She couldn't help smiling at that.

‘I miss you,' he whispered, his words almost lost in the enormity of the cathedral. ‘I really miss you.'

Katherine blinked away her tears and willed herself not to produce more. ‘I miss Lorna,' she suddenly said.

‘You don't have to. She's right here.' He gave her a little smile. ‘And Warwick? I hope you miss Warwick just a little bit too. You do, don't you?'

She avoided his gaze and instead looked across the nave to where a woman was lighting a candle, a tiny perfect beam of light in a dark world.

‘Has it been awkward for you, since people found out Lorna Warwick was really a man?' she asked, carefully moving away from answering the question he'd posed her.

‘No,' Warwick said, shaking his head. ‘It's actually been quite good fun. I expect you've seen some of the press. Sales have rocketed. I actually owe you a considerable cut in royalties.' He leant his head to one side. ‘It's good to see you smiling.'

‘I'm not smiling,' she said.

‘No? You sure?'

There was another silence-filled moment.

‘I've been back to Purley,' Warwick said.

‘Oh?'

‘Yes, last month. Robyn's living there now with Dan. She even moved her chickens down from Yorkshire. They're getting married in the summer.'

‘Really?'

Warwick nodded.

Katherine smiled; there was no disputing it this time and she had to admit that it felt good.

‘There's going to be a film adaptation of
The Notorious Lady Fenton,
and Dame Pamela's going to star in it.'

‘Really? That's brilliant! That's my favourite book!'

‘I know.'

She blushed, remembering that she wasn't really speaking to him.

‘They're going to start filming in May. It's all happened really quickly,' he said.

They began walking slowly towards the door together, neither of them knowing what would happen next.

‘Oh,' Katherine said as she realised she was still holding Warwick's book. ‘Here.'

He shook his head. ‘It's yours. I brought it for you.'

‘Thank you,' she said quietly. ‘And for the dedication.' She dared to look up at him again.

‘I'm going to dedicate all my new books to you, Katherine, because I'm completely and irrevocably dedicated to you.' His expression was gentle yet intense, and there was no doubt in Katherine's mind that he meant what he said.

‘You shouldn't do that,' she said. ‘And you shouldn't say such things.'

‘Why not?' he asked. ‘I mean it.'

He held her gaze for a moment. ‘I don't know what to say,' she whispered.

‘Say you'll give me another chance. Say you know I'm an idiot but that you forgive me anyway. Say you'll let me hold your hand and that we can start again.'

Katherine bit her lip. She felt suspended for a moment, as if she were floating somewhere high above the nave looking down on herself. What was she going to do? What was she going to say?

She took a long deep breath. ‘Okay,' she said.

Warwick's eyebrows rose. ‘What?'

‘Okay,' she said, adding a smile so the word would make a little more sense.

Warwick smiled back. ‘Really?' he said.

Katherine nodded and a light filled Warwick's eyes that made them so beautiful that she actually laughed.

She turned around to take one last look at Jane Austen's resting place and then the two of them left the cathedral together and, when Warwick held out his hand, Katherine placed her own inside it.