A Weekend with Mr. Darcy (6 page)

Dinner at Purley Hall was always something to look forward to and Robyn's first experience was sending her spinning with excitement as she rushed from suitcase to wardrobe in search of the dress she was going to wear. It was a plain sky-blue dress with only a hint of bugle beads along the neckline and it was rather short for Robyn, just skimming the knees instead of covering her ankles.

She felt on show as she made her way down the stairs, very aware of the bareness of her legs, but then she saw the familiar face of Katherine, and her nod of approval put Robyn's mind at rest. Katherine was wearing a pretty dress in burgundy. Her hair had been unpinned and fell over her shoulders in dark waves.

‘You look lovely,' Robyn said.

‘So do you!'

‘I don't often get the chance to dress up at home,' Robyn said. ‘This is rather special.'

‘It's one of the things I enjoy here.'

Robyn noticed that the dining room door was open, but people were chatting in groups in the hall before entering.

‘We're waiting for the dame,' Katherine told her.

Sure enough, a moment later, a hush descended and all eyes turned upwards towards the cantilevered staircase. It really was the staircase of an actress, Robyn thought, and an actress who knew how to make an entrance, for as the grandfather clock in the hall struck the half hour, a vision in violet greeted them.

Dame Pamela was a sight to behold at the best of times, but that night she was part superstar, part royalty, in a dress of deepest purple which wafted dreamily behind her, and a diamond necklace that encrusted the whole of her neck so that it seemed to be made more of diamonds than skin.

As was becoming the practice whenever Dame Pamela made an appearance, everybody burst into applause which had the effect of lighting up her face like the most enchanting of queens. She took the arm of a gentleman wearing a suit of midnight blue, and the two of them led the way into the dining room.

Robyn entered and her eyes lit up both physically and metaphorically because the room was a delight of chandeliers and candles. To be as authentic as possible to Jane Austen, electricity had been shunned and the result was greeted by appreciative gasps from the guests as they entered. It was a room that seemed to stretch forever and Robyn thought she needed at least three pairs of eyes in her head to take it all in. The walls were cream with ornate gold plasterwork on the ceiling that glimmered in the light from the candles. There was an impressive fireplace that hadn't been lit, owing to the continued warmth of the season, but which Robyn could imagine it being the very heart of the house when it was alive and roaring, filling the room with the unmistakable smell of home.

Several grand portraits lined the walls, the pale faces gazing down at the guests with the passivity typical of the painted form. Robyn wondered who the people were and how long they had been staring down from those walls. Were they ancestors of Dame Pamela or had she bought the portraits as part of the house when she moved to Purley?

With a dozen questions swimming around in her head, Robyn took her seat, and her gaze fell upon the beautiful table settings, the flower displays and the silverware. It certainly beat beans on toast on the sofa in front of the television in her little terrace, she thought as she gazed at the vases of pink and white roses that lined the table.

White plates and bowls sat in front of the guests and two crystal glasses waited to be filled. It was all so sumptuous that Robyn was almost afraid to touch anything. She was accustomed to her old scratched dinner plates and a sturdy pottery mug.

‘I wonder if we'll see our friend,' Robyn said, eyeing the other guests up and down the length of the great table.

‘Who's that?'

‘The gentleman who likes staring at you so much.'

‘I don't think you can call such a man a gentleman,' Katherine said. ‘If you looked up the word
gentleman
in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of him—with a great red cross through it.'

Robyn laughed.

‘And if you really want to know where he is, he's over there.'

Robyn looked at the end of the table and saw the dark-haired man. ‘I wonder why he hasn't introduced himself yet.'

‘I'm hoping he's too embarrassed,' Katherine said. ‘I can quite do without such complications, anyway.'

Robyn's eyes widened at this declaration, and she waited, hoping that Katherine might say more, but she didn't and the moment passed as the starters were served.

***

They were halfway through dinner when things began to get interesting. Robyn was just finishing her last mouthful of pavlova when a gentleman entered the room and quietly made his way to the head of the table. He was tall and his coppery blond hair flopped over his face in a manner that suggested he wasn't a part of the conference. He was wearing a loose shirt, dirt-encrusted trousers, and a pair of boots, and Robyn recognised him at once. It was the handsome man on horseback she'd seen in the lane at Steventon and she watched as he approached Dame Pamela and whispered something in her ear. She made to get up out of her seat, but the man placed a tanned hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

What was that about? Robyn wondered. Did the man work at Purley for Dame Pamela or was he her latest boy toy? It was a well-known fact that the dame liked her men a lot younger than herself, and he was certainly handsome. Nobody could blame her if this was the latest handsome young man she'd chosen to help her learn her lines.

Robyn watched as the man turned to leave the room, his coppery hair catching the light of the candles and giving it the look of a halo.

She tutted at herself. Honestly, what was she thinking of, and why was she looking at his bottom? What would Jane Austen have made of such brazen actions? She'd probably have laughed her head off and then written them all down so as not to forget them, Robyn thought, quite sure that the author would have eyed enough men's bottoms in her time as any other red-blooded woman. Especially in the fashions of her time. It was absolutely wicked but great fun to imagine the young author dreaming of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Captain Wentworth and what they might look like in their breeches. Wasn't that a big part of why the film and television adaptations were so successful—because of the fine display of men's bottoms?

Robyn felt herself blushing and cursed her girlishness. She knew her whole face had a tendency to flame scarlet rather than colour her cheeks a subtle shade of pink and it was most embarrassing. She looked down at her lap for a moment, feeling the colour ebbing away before she dared to look up at the handsome young man again. She loved the way he walked the length of the room with easy strides. He had a wonderful grace that comes from riding a horse well.

Robyn was soon distracted from her quiet admiration because when he opened the door to leave, it almost crashed into his face as a second man stumbled into the room.

‘Oh, my god!' Robyn said, her mouth dropping open in horror. It was Jace.

A sudden hush fell over the dining room as thirty pairs of eyes swivelled in the direction of the door as the dishevelled man crashed into a chair, sending its occupant sprawling across the table.

Robyn's blush returned with a vengeance while she watched the scene unfolding.

‘Where's my gal?' Jace announced, looking up and tripping over his own feet when he tried to move forward.

‘Excuse me!' a voice suddenly boomed. It was the man in the scarlet waistcoat whom Robyn thought of as the master of ceremonies.

‘What?' Jace said, standing back up to full height and swaying like a reed in the wind.

‘Who are you and what are you doing here?'

‘Jace, mate. Who the hell are you?'

A collective gasp of horror rose from around the table at the rude interruption and Robyn wanted to slide quietly under it until it was all over, but it was too late to do anything because Jace had spotted her.

‘There's my darlin'! There's my Robbie!'

‘Robyn?' Katherine asked. ‘Is he yours?'

‘No,' Robyn said. ‘I mean yes. Kind of.'

Katherine looked confused and Robyn swallowed hard because the whole room was looking at her.

‘Really!' the master of ceremonies said. ‘I must ask you to leave. This is a private function.'

‘Get your hands off me. I'm here to see my gal.' Jace stumbled and swayed across the room, catching hold of the table in front of him when he reached Robyn. ‘Babes!' he said. ‘I was worried about you. Your phone must be broken.'

‘It's not broken, Jace,' Robyn said in a whisper, hoping he'd lower his voice to match her own.

‘I had to come and see you—make sure you were all right.'

Robyn stood up. ‘You shouldn't be here!'

‘I was bored!' he whined. ‘I'm stuck in that bloody B and B by myself.'

There were more gasps and mutterings from the guests at the intruder's ripe language.

‘I told you not to come.'

‘Aw, babes!' he said, making an attempt to hug her, but she swerved out of the way. ‘Don't be like that.'

‘You should have stayed at home,' Robyn said, anger raising her voice. ‘This isn't the place for you.'

‘Come with me,' he said, grabbing her wrist.

‘You're hurting me.'

‘What do you want to be with all these stiffs for when you can be having fun with me?'

‘Jace!'

‘Hey! Leave her alone.' Somebody stepped in between them and calmly but firmly pushed Jace away from Robyn. It was the handsome man on horseback. ‘I think you'd better leave. That's your taxi outside, right?'

Jace's face had turned purple with rage. ‘You're that toff whose horse kicked my car?'

Robyn shook her head. ‘It didn't kick your car, Jace.'

‘You are, aren't you? Is that why you're here?' Jace asked, peering around the man to look at Robyn and almost toppling in the process.

‘What are you talking about?' Robyn said.

‘I know you women. You don't care who the man is as long as he's on a bloody horse. Put bloody Jabba the Hutt on a horse and you'd all be swooning over him.'

‘Jace, you need to lie down.'

‘Let's get you into that taxi,' the handsome man on horseback said.

‘But I want to stay,' Jace cried, shaking the man's hand off him.

‘No, you don't. We'll be watching a film later,' Robyn said. ‘You'll be bored out of your mind if you stay.'

‘What, a film with one of those infernal dance scenes?'

‘Exactly,' Robyn said.

Jace seemed to be considering this information for a moment and, finally, he saw sense. ‘When will I see you?'

‘I'll give you a call in the morning, okay?'

Jace nodded. He looked as if he was about to fall asleep or maybe just fall.

‘Let's get you into that taxi,' the handsome man on horseback said.

‘Waitwaitwait,' Jace said, bending forward and grabbing hold of Robyn, placing a slobbery kiss on her mouth before leaving the room.

Robyn sank back down in her chair.

‘You okay?' Katherine asked as everyone around the table started whispering to one another, desperately trying to find out what was going on.

‘That was terrible,' Robyn said. ‘Everyone's looking at me.'

‘No they're not.'

‘I think I'd like to leave.'

Katherine nodded. ‘I'll come with you.'

The two of them left the dining room and Robyn breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks for not asking too many questions,' she said.

Katherine smiled. ‘If you want to talk about it, I'm here. If not, no problem.'

‘I appreciate that.'

They walked up the stairs together.

‘You'll come back downstairs for the film night, won't you?' Katherine said when they reached their bedroom doors.

Robyn looked lost in thought for a moment as if she couldn't quite place where she was or who was speaking to her. Finally she nodded.

‘Good,' Katherine said, checking her watch. ‘Shall I knock for you?'

Again Robyn nodded.

‘I must say, I was tempted to watch
Sense and Sensibility
for the hundredth time, but I've decided to wallow in
Persuasion
,' Katherine said. ‘What about you?'

Robyn hadn't given it much thought. Although she preferred
Persuasion
as a story, she really couldn't cope with it that night. The scene when Anne Elliot realises that she and her one-time lover, Frederick, are like strangers—worse than strangers because they can never become acquainted—always brought tears to Robyn's eyes and would be just enough to tip her over the edge in front of everybody.

‘It was perpetual estrangement.' That line always got Robyn. That was the lump-in-the-throat moment and, if she was ever watching the film in company, a sly finger would dab at the tear ducts and a long soft sniff would try to hide the sadness in her heart.

Perpetual estrangement, Robyn thought. Wasn't that exactly what she wanted from Jace?

Katherine didn't see Robyn before the film began and wasn't even sure that she hadn't shut herself away in her room for the rest of the evening. Who could blame her? After the awful scene in the dining room, it would be a wonder if Robyn showed her face again at all that weekend. Poor Robyn. It wasn't her fault. As Katherine chose a seat in the library, she wondered about Robyn's story. The man she'd called Jace didn't seem at all suited to her and it puzzled Katherine why she was with somebody like that. But then, who knew what went on in the heart of another person and what might attract one to another?

Just as the lights were being switched off, Katherine became aware of a presence by her side and looked up into the face of the suitcase-wielding gentleman, except luckily for her, he was without his weapon of choice.

‘Is this seat taken?' he asked, his voice low, almost shy.

Katherine shook her head, not wanting to add any words of encouragement or to maintain eye contact.

‘I couldn't make up my mind which film to see,' the man said.

Katherine's attention remained fixed on the television as the sad yet serene face of Sally Hawkins looked out at the audience with clear, all-seeing eyes.

‘I love
Persuasion,
but
Sense and Sensibility
has so much to recommend it too, doesn't it?' the man went on.

Katherine shifted in her chair.

‘A wonderful script,' he said. ‘One of the best adaptations of a book ever.'

‘Shush!' a woman said from a chair behind them.

‘And the young Kate Winslet of course,' he added.

‘Young man!' the woman from behind them protested. ‘Will you stop talking?'

‘Sorry,' the man said.

Katherine allowed herself a very small smile. A young Kate Winslet indeed!

***

It was strange but, no matter how many times Katherine read the novel or saw the adaptations, Anne and Wentworth's story never failed to move her. It was, perhaps, Austen's slowest story in terms of action, but there was a beauty about its simple structure and its sublimely gentle narration. Anne was one of the most sympathetic heroines in literature because she had made a mistake when young that had almost cost her her life's happiness.

Perhaps that's why Austen's books were so popular, Katherine mused, because her heroines made the most terrible mistakes: they either fell for the bad boys or turned the good ones away. They were real, flawed but forgivable, girls who had a lot of growing up to do and readers loved them because they
were
them.

Which one of us hasn't made a hash of our lives at one time or other, Katherine thought, daring to think about her own doomed relationship with David. The only difference was that Katherine wasn't a fictional character in a novel, and Jane Austen wasn't around to ensure her a happy ending.

‘Ah, a happy ending,' the man next to her said.

Katherine jolted out of her private daydream, irrationally thinking that the dark-haired man had somehow read her thoughts.

‘There's nothing quite like a happy ending, don't you think?' he said.

‘Exactly,' Katherine said, getting up from her chair. ‘It leaves one feeling so—' she paused.

‘Satisfied?' the man suggested.

‘Inadequate,' Katherine said.

The man looked bemused a moment but then, getting up from his chair as the lights were switched on, he held out his hand to shake hers. ‘I'm Warwick,' he said. ‘And I can personally guarantee a happy ending if you befriend me.'

It was Katherine's turn to look bemused and she did it beautifully, raising a dark eyebrow while fixing him with a stern look.

‘Really?'

‘Absolutely,' he said with a smile that was quite attractive.

Katherine looked at him for a moment, his hand still extended towards her. He was, she had to admit, rather handsome. He had thick dark hair, clear hazel eyes, and a smile that was part charm and part dare. What the heck, Katherine thought. What harm can there be befriending him? After all, it was only for the space of the weekend. If he was completely mad—and she hadn't ruled it out yet—she need never see him or hear from him again. She extended her hand, placed it in his and shook.

‘Warwick?' she said.

‘You're called Warwick too?' he said with a grin.

She smiled. ‘I'm Katherine. Katherine Roberts.'

‘And you're speaking on Sunday?'

‘I am.'

‘I'm looking forward to it,' he said.

They walked slowly towards the library door together and then, reaching it, stopped.

‘Well, it was very nice to meet you, Warwick,' Katherine said, giving him a brief smile prior to heading towards the stairs before he had the chance to say another word.

***

Warwick was stunned. She'd just walked away—casually and coolly walked away from him—as if he were of no further use to her.

Look on the bright side, he told himself. He'd made contact. He now officially knew her name and she knew his. They'd even exchanged a few words.

‘But that was it,' he said to himself. What had gone wrong this time? Was she just totally unimpressed by him and didn't want to engage in further conversation? Had she found him dull and unamusing?

Warwick sighed. How odd it had been to sit in the dark with her for the entire length of the film. It had been a strange sort of agony because he knew the woman and yet he couldn't talk to her. And he
so
wanted to talk to her! They got on. If only she knew it and gave him a chance, but she hadn't. She dismissed him as an uninteresting nobody.

What was he going to do now? He couldn't let her slip away from him so easily, could he? He had to give this opportunity another go.

For a moment he stood in the hallway wondering what his next move was going to be, and then he remembered something—something he could use to his advantage.

‘The letters.'

Katherine's letters were the key to unlocking her. She'd written things in them that revealed the very centre of her personality, and he could use that knowledge to get to know her better.

It was a low-down, sneaky, dishonourable thing to do, but it would probably work a treat.