Christmas With Mr Darcy (3 page)

‘You’ll be back with him in no time at all,’ Sarah said, ‘besides, you can’t go all the way to Bath now to pick up Will because we’d be late for the conference and you know how much I hate being late.’

Mia knew only too well. Her sister, Sarah, suffered from OCD – Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - which gave her innumerable quirks such as not being able to watch a programme on television if the credits had already started rolling before she’d sat down; she had to be there at the very beginning of things otherwise it would be spoilt and she wouldn’t be able to settle.

The Christmas conference would be the first they’d attended at Purley Hall and they were both looking forward to it. They’d just been reunited at the Jane Austen Festival in Bath after three years apart from each other. Mia was living there now with her architect partner, Gabe, and her two-year old son, William. His full name was William Fitz – in honour of Fitzwilliam Darcy. When she’d found out she was having a boy, she’d debated calling him Fitzwilliam but had decided that it would probably be a cruel thing to do to a modern child.

‘Anyway, I think Gabe’s going to really appreciate some time alone with William. You’ve seen how well they’ve bonded. They’re going to love their time together,’ Sarah said.

‘You make it sound like I won’t be missed at all!’ Mia said with a pout.

‘You know what I mean!’ Sarah said, ruffling her younger sister’s hair.

‘It’s a shame Lloyd isn’t coming with us,’ Mia said, thinking of her brother-in-law to be.

‘I know. He really wanted to but that job up in Scotland was too good to miss,’ Sarah said.

‘I adored his photos of the Jane Austen Festival in
Vive!
,’ Mia said.

‘Yes,’ Sarah said. ‘He seems to tolerate my Austen addiction really well.’

‘You surely wouldn’t be thinking of marrying a man who
didn’t
like Jane Austen, would you?’ Mia teased.

Sarah shook her head. She’d been married once before and it had caused a split between her and her sister. A split she never wanted to experience again because she loved her sister more than life itself.

‘Lloyd understands you so well,’ Mia continued.

‘I’m lucky to have found him,’ Sarah said as she straightened a tablecloth that really didn’t need straightening. ‘Now, help me tidy this place up before we leave.’

‘Tidy what? It’s immaculate already!’ Mia said, knowing that her sister wouldn’t be happy until everything had been vacuumed yet again and every cushion and curtain had been plumped and straightened.

‘We’re not going until it’s absolutely right,’ Sarah said.

Mia smiled at her sister, knowing that her Jane Austen weekend wasn’t going to start until
everything
was perfect.

Kay Ashton looked out of her bedroom window at Wentworth House in Lyme Regis and gazed out at the grey sea. She loved the Dorset coast in winter. It had a bleak beauty about it that might not appeal to everybody but Kay adored it.

Winter was a quiet time for Kay. The holiday-makers had long gone and running the bed and breakfast took a back seat which meant that Kay could dedicate herself to her true passion: painting.

Kay had always painted. She loved the freedom that a brush allowed and, after putting together a series of Austen-inspired paintings for two books called
The Illustrated Darcy
and
The Illustrated Wentworth
which was going to be published by a small London publisher, Kay had turned to her beloved Dorset and was concentrating on landscapes. But she didn’t have time for any painting now. She had to pack because Adam would be arriving at any moment. He’d persuaded her to shut the bed and breakfast over the Christmas period. It was usually a quiet time anyway and he’d told Kay that she needed a break – a good break.

Turning around to face the clothes she’d laid out on the bed, she smiled as she remembered him telling her about Purley Hall. Adam was a screenwriter and film producer and he’d recently filmed an adaptation of a Lorna Warwick novel at the Georgian manor house in Hampshire and had fallen in love with the place and was desperate to share it with her.

‘You’ll love it!’ he’d enthused. But what Kay loved more was the idea of a Jane Austen conference. She’d never heard of anything like it before. A conference dedicated to Jane Austen – how marvellous was that?

She was just reaching for her sketchpad when she heard the door opening downstairs.

‘Kay?’

‘I’m upstairs, Adam.’

She heard him take the stairs two at a time and he was in the room before she could draw breath, taking her in his arms and kissing her.

‘How are you?’ he said at last.

‘Thoroughly kissed!’ she said with a little laugh.

‘I always like to start as I mean to go on,’ he said. He was wearing a thick wool jumper in chocolate brown that only had a couple of ginger cat hairs on it.

‘Did you take Sir Walter round to Nana’s?’ she asked, running her fingers through his short dark hair.

‘Yes,’ Adam said, ‘although he was a devil to get into the basket. I think he knew what was coming.’

‘Oh, he’ll be spoilt rotten there,’ Kay said. ‘Your nana always gives him the best of everything.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I only wish she could come with us.’

‘Nana Craig would
not
like that!’ Kay said.

‘Why not?’ he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

‘Because there will be actors there, of course!’

‘Ah, yes!’ Adam said with a little laugh. His dear old nana had detested actors ever since her husband had run off with an actress several decades ago. She’d never trusted them and had been mightily relieved when Adam had become involved with Kay and not that Gemma Reilly actress woman who had been hanging around Lyme Regis during the filming of the recent adaptation of
Persuasion
.

‘It will be so lovely to see Gemma again,’ Kay said.

Adam nodded. ‘Just as long as you’re not going to try and match-make me and her again!’

‘Oh, Adam!’ Kay said with a smile. ‘That was nothing more than a little mistake.’ She encircled her arms around his waist and kissed him. ‘I should have known that there was no other woman for you but
me
.’

Chapter 4

Later that afternoon, the entrance hall of Purley was filled with excited chatter as the guests arrived and everybody stood in line to be allocated their rooms. Old friends greeted each other with screams of joy and warm embraces, and Robyn and Dan handed out keys and pointed people in the right direction.

‘Oh, just look at that tree!’ Doris Norris said, her pale eyes shining brightly as she gazed up into its branches. ‘But isn’t that angel a bit-’ she paused and cocked her head to one side.

‘What?’ Robyn asked her.

‘Skewiff?’

Robyn sighed and caught Dan’s eye.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘The angel’s drunk again,’ she said

Doris Norris giggled. ‘She’s not the only one,’ she said. ‘I had a little glass of sherry before I came out to warm me up and I think it’s gone right to my head!’

Robyn linked arms with her. ‘Then we’ll get you straight to your room so you can have a nice rest before the welcome reception.’

‘Excuse me!’ a voice suddenly boomed from behind Robyn and she turned to come face to face with her old adversary.

‘Can I help you, Mrs Soames?’

‘Well, I’m not sure that you can. You seem
much
too young to be in charge of anything important,’ Mrs Soames declared, her face red and her bosom pushed up high in front of her.

Robyn tried not to bristle at the comment. ‘If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I won’t be of any help at all, will I?’ Robyn said, daring to smile at the old tartar.

Mrs Soames’s chin wobbled a bit and she cleared her throat. ‘I’ve got the same room as last time,’ she said.

Robyn checked her key. ‘Oh, that’s the Rose Room – it’s lovely,’ she said, remembering the pretty wallpaper covered in tiny rosebuds and the rich velvet curtains the colour of the deepest red rose.

‘But I don’t like the view,’ Mrs Soames said.

Robyn did a double take. As far as she was concerned, there wasn’t a single bad view from Purley Hall unless you didn’t like country gardens, fields or woods. ‘You don’t like the view?’ Robyn said, unable to disguise her bemusement.

‘No. You can see the compost heap from there,’ Mrs Soames told her.

‘Oh,’ Robyn said in surprise. ‘Well, it probably isn’t quite so big at this time of year. In fact, it’s probably covered in snow.’

‘A compost heap is a compost heap. It’s rubbish. It’s
waste
. And I haven’t paid all this money to look out of my window to see waste.’

‘Right,’ Robyn said.

Doris Norris patted Robyn’s arm. ‘I rather like a compost heap,’ she said. ‘Maybe we could swap rooms.’

Mrs Soames looked suspicious for a moment as if Doris Norris might be up to something.

‘Which room do you have?’ Robyn asked her.

Doris looked down at her key. ‘The Cedar Room,’ she said.

‘Oh, I had that one at my first conference,’ Robyn said. ‘It’s gorgeous. It looks out over the front driveway and up into the cedar tree.’

‘It won’t be too noisy?’ Mrs Soames asked.

‘Oh, no,’ Robyn said. ‘You can keep an eye on everyone coming and going from there but it’s lovely and quiet too,’ she said, knowing how Mrs Soames liked to know everybody’s business and would appreciate spying down on the world.

‘Well, we’d better have a look then,’ she said and the little group made their way to the Cedar Room.

Mrs Soames didn’t give too much away when she entered the room but walked straight across the plush cream carpet to the sash window which looked out across the front driveway just as Robyn had promised.

‘I suppose this will
have
to do,’ she said at last and Robyn put her bags down with a sigh of relief.

‘We’ll see you for the welcome reception downstairs, then?’ Robyn said, quickly leaving the room with Doris. ‘It was very kind of you to swap rooms,’ she said as she took Doris’s suitcase to the Rose Room.

‘If I can play my part in making Mrs Soames a little cheery then that’s reward enough for me.’

‘Well, she wasn’t exactly smiling about it,’ Robyn observed.

‘No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do anything but grimace,’ Doris agreed. ‘I’ve seen happier-looking bloodhounds.’

They giggled together.

‘But you, my dear, you
do
look happy!’ Doris continued as they reached the Rose Room.

Robyn smiled. ‘I am,’ she said.

‘And this is your home now – with Dan?’

Robyn nodded. ‘We’ve got a little cottage down the lane. It’s tiny but perfect and I love working here with Dame Pamela.’

‘I’m so glad you found the right man for you,’ Doris said. ‘I mean – after that fellow you were involved with.’

Robyn bit her lip as she remembered Jace and the time that they’d broken up during her first Jane Austen conference.

‘Although I’ll never forget him riding into the dining room on that horse!’ Doris said.

Robyn shook her head at the memory. ‘I got a Christmas card from him last week,’ she said. ‘He’s just got engaged to a local girl. She likes pubs and football and I don’t think she’s an Austen fan so that will suit Jace wonderfully well.’

‘That’s nice – everyone deserves to find that special someone,’ Doris said. ‘Remember what Jane Austen said? “Do not be in a hurry: depend upon it -”’

‘”The right man will come at last”,’ Robyn finished with her and Doris nodded in approval.

As the rest of the guests made themselves at home in their rooms, changing from snug travelling clothes into elegant dresses and smart trousers, Dame Pamela was pacing up and down her office. Every now and then, she would stop, pick up the phone and hit the ‘redial’ button but there was never any answer.

‘Oh, Benedict!’ she cried into the empty room before walking over to the bookcase. She reached up to a shelf just above her head and pulled out a thick photo album bound in leather with gilt lettering. She took it across to the desk and sat in the chair, flipping through the pages and staring at the photographs.

‘So many brothers,’ she said with a little laugh.

Depending on how you looked at it, her father had either been one of the world’s worst philanderers or one of its greatest romantics. He had married four times and had had two other lovers who had given him children too. Dame Pamela often lost count of them all but she thought there were at least nine of them in total with her being the eldest and Dan being the youngest. Benedict was somewhere in the middle and was in his forties now but he still behaved like a teenager with his money-making schemes and his belief that a great fortune was owed to him without him actually having to work for it.

She looked at her favourite photo of him in the album. It had been taken on a holiday somewhere on the south coast. Dame Pamela had forgotten where. Her father had hired a huge house overlooking the sea and had filled the place with his children. It had been chaos but a wonderful sort of chaos.

She looked at the young boy in the photograph with his cheeky grin and mop of badly-behaved hair. What age would he have been there? Ten maybe eleven? Even then, he’d been trouble. Dame Pamela shook her head as she remembered Benedict marching up and down the beach trying to sell shells and stones to the tourists.

She turned the page and there was a photo of the two of them together, standing on the balcony of the holiday home, the brilliant blue sea behind them. She looked more like his mother than his sister and she’d been forced into that role through the years as Benedict had lurched from one financial disaster to the next.

‘And what sort of trouble are you in now?’ she asked the photograph before gazing out of the window into the white landscape beyond.

Chapter 5

Higgins the butler, who was sporting a cherry-red waistcoat with bright silver buttons, cleared his throat and a hush descended on the room as twenty pairs of eyes fixed themselves on the door.