Christmas With Mr Darcy (8 page)

‘Well, we don’t have long to find out,’ Sarah said.

Mia smiled. ‘I still feel so awful leaving Will and Gabe to come here.’

‘And Lloyd,’ Sarah said.

‘But I guess they’ve got to get used to life with a Janeite,’ Mia said. ‘We do need these little treats every now and then.’

On the other side of the room, Cassie lay in an old-fashioned pram which her doting Aunt Pamela had bought her, and Robyn and Dan sat either side of her.

‘I will never get over how beautiful Purley is,’ Robyn said to Dan. ‘Do you ever get used to it?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s something you never take for granted,’ he said. ‘It’s like a daily gift.’

Robyn nodded. ‘I don’t ever want to leave.’

‘You don’t have to,’ he said and they smiled at each other as if they’d already been given the best Christmas present in the world.

Benedict, who was sitting beside Robyn, looked at the pair of them and chuckled. Young love, he thought, remembering the time he’d leapt into marriage and leapt straight back out almost as quickly.

After dinner, a hush descended as Dame Pamela stood up at the head of the table. She was wearing a dress in royal blue and had a pair of sapphire and diamond earrings dangling from her ears, the stones as large as birds’ eggs.

‘And now, I have something I’ve been dying to share with you,’ she announced. ‘It’s a little Christmas present I bought for myself and I couldn’t wait a moment longer before telling you about it. You might have read about it in the news. It came up for auction in September although the buyer wasn’t named in the press.’

Everybody started whispering madly around the table. What could it be? It couldn’t possibly be what they thought it was. Or could it? They waited in hushed anticipation as Higgins handed Dame Pamela a gift wrapped in bright gold paper with a thick crimson ribbon tied around it. Dame Pamela slowly untied the ribbon and unwrapped the hidden gift.

‘It’s book-shaped,’ Rose whispered from the end of the table. ‘I know a book at fifty paces.’

The guests leaned forward, necks craning to get their first glimpse of whatever Dame Pamela had bought at auction. Jackson Moore’s eyes were out on stalks and Sarah was drumming her fingers on the linen tablecloth in anticipation.
It couldn’t be, could it?
That’s what everyone was thinking.

Sure enough, as the final fold of gold paper fell away to reveal a protective layer of fine tissue paper, they saw a book – or rather three books - but they weren’t just any books – they looked old. About two hundred years old.

‘It’s the first edition!’ Roberta screamed and everybody gasped, instantly knowing she was right. It would have been a very poor Jane Austen fan who hadn’t heard of the auction at Sotheby’s in September where a rare first edition of
Pride and Prejudice
had been sold to an anonymous bidder for a little under one hundred and eighty thousand pounds. And here it was, in this very room, in front of them, breathing the same air as them. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy –
the first edition
. The first book that had been sent out into the world to find its audience.

To look at it, you’d never know how very precious it was. It comprised of three slim volumes in dull brown boards with signs of water damage, and the spines were rough and had obviously seen some repairs. If it had been in a box at a car boot sale, most people wouldn’t have looked twice at it but this book had journeyed from 1813 to be with them today and it was a most welcome guest.

‘It’s probably not a good idea to pass it around at the dining table but there will be an opportunity for you all to get a closer look at it later,’ Dame Pamela promised as she wrapped up the three editions once more.

‘How extraordinary!’ Doris Norris said.

‘I can’t believe it!’ Katherine said.

‘Truly
wonderful!
’ Gemma enthused.

Dame Pamela left the room with the books and coffee was served.

‘I can’t believe she bought that first edition,’ Katherine said.

‘Why not when you’re as rich as Dame Pamela?’ Warwick said. ‘It’s too good an opportunity to miss.’

‘But think of the insurance!’ Katherine said.

‘Higgins has more than likely dealt with all the boring bits,’ Warwick said. ‘Dame Pamela’s probably got nothing more pressing to think about other than cherishing it.’

‘I can’t imagine owning something like that,’ Katherine said.

Warwick’s dark eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘But you already do.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘How many first edition Lorna Warwick’s do you own?’

‘Oh, Warwick! That’s not the same thing at all!’ Kay said.

He gave her a look of mock shock. ‘It might be –
one
day. Who’s to say which writers will be revered in two hundred years’ time. My books might become very valuable.’

Katherine laughed but then she took his hand in hers. ‘I’m sure they will be because you write wonderful stories.’

He smiled and took a sip of wine. Katherine watched as he drank and then her mind drifted back to the suitcase and his restless searching of the night before. As much as she loved him, she couldn’t help thinking that he was up to something.

There was a showing of
Northanger Abbey
that evening and a lively discussion ensued about the sexiness of JJ Feild as Henry Tilney. Was it true to Austen or had Andrew Davies been at it again with his naughty pen?

‘I think Henry Tilney is the sexiest of Austen’s heroes,’ Doris Norris said.

‘What about Mr Darcy?’ Rose asked.

‘Well, he has that reserved sort of attractiveness,’ Doris said. ‘It’s sexy but not overtly sexy, if you know what I mean.’

‘I think Henry Tilney should definitely have a twinkle in his eye,’ Mia said. ‘Remember when he’s dancing with Catherine and teasing her mercilessly? I've always imagined a naughty little smile in that scene.’

Discussion moved on - as it always did - to other Austen heroes.

‘Jeremy Northam has always been my favourite Mr Knightley and he would’ve made a wonderful Tilney. His tone is just right,’ Roberta said. ‘He is serious yet subtle. Absolutely perfect.’

‘Having seen Jonny Lee Miller again last night, I rather prefer him,’ Doris Norris said.

‘Oh, he wasn't right at all,’ Mrs Soames said, her cheeks flaming in annoyance. ‘Too soft. Not enough of a match for Emma. Besides, he was blond.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Mia asked.

‘I don't think blond suits an Austen hero. Except Mr Bingley,’ Mrs Soames said.

‘So you didn't like Rupert Penry-Jones as Captain Wentworth?’ Mia said.

‘Captain Wentworth should
not
be blond,’ Mrs Soames asserted.

‘Why not? His hair might have been bleached blond by the exposure to the sun on his ship,’ Mia said.

‘But blond is so – well – feminine,’ Mrs Soames said.

Doris Norris gave a little chuckle. ‘I once went out with a blond man and there was nothing feminine about him, let me assure you,’ she said with a twinkle that was worthy of Henry Tilney himself.

‘Now I come to think of it, there aren't that many blond heroes at all, are there?’ Katherine said, enjoying the conversation immensely. It was just the sort of conversation she wouldn’t be able to condone at Oxford.

Everybody looked thoughtful for a moment.

‘There’s Daniel Craig,’ Rose suggested.

‘Hmmm,’ Roberta pondered. ‘I’m not at all convinced about a blond Bond.’

‘Colin Farrell went blond in
Alexander
,’ Gemma said.

‘And there was Dan Stevens in
Sense and Sensibility
,’ Katherine said.

‘But he was more feminine again - if you know what I mean,’ Roberta said.

‘Apart from that wood chopping scene,’ Mia said with a little giggle.

‘Julian Sands was very blond in
A Room with a View
,’ Katherine said.

‘And all of the Scarlet Pimpernels have been blond too,’ Warwick said, pulling up a chair to join in. ‘And Sean Bean as Sharpe.’

‘Okay! Enough heroes already!’ Sarah said.

‘Oh, you can never have enough heroes!’ Doris Norris said with a smile as she took another sip of sherry.

‘I'd like to see Richard Armitage as Mr Darcy,’ Kay said. ‘I really do think that he’s the forgotten Darcy.’

‘What about Henry Cavill?’ Mia said.

‘As Darcy? Oh, no! He’s far better suited to play Wickham,’ Kay said.

And the conversation went on.

‘I wonder what the next adaptation will be,’ Rose said. ‘I’m still waiting for a really good
Mansfield Park
. I don’t think anyone’s quite nailed it yet.’

‘But does it really matter if it’s good or not?’ Mia said.

‘What do you mean?’ Rose asked.

‘I mean, it doesn’t matter how bad an adaptation is. It’s still Jane Austen and that means it’s a hundred times better than anything else that’s on the television that evening.’

Rose nodded. ‘You’re right. A bad Jane Austen adaptation still beats anything else by a mile.’

‘Yes but that
Lost in Austen
was just preposterous!’ Mrs Soames said. ‘Falling into the plot of
Pride and Prejudice
! It’s ridiculous! Surely it would have been more realistic to have her finding a portal back to Regency times.’

‘Yes but that’s been done by so many books already,’ Roberta said. ‘I read two of them last week alone.’

‘Anyway,’ Kay said, ‘haven’t we
all
wanted to find ourselves in the midst of the Bennet family and meet Mr Darcy?’

‘But for that – that –
heroine
to end up with Mr Darcy!’ Mrs Soames said.

‘So, you stayed with it until the end, then?’ Kay teased.

Mrs Soames looked a little embarrassed. ‘Well, there was nothing else on.’

‘I think it was absolutely wonderful,’ Doris Norris said. ‘And just what so many of us have dreamed of for ourselves – a happy ending with Mr Darcy.’

Chapter 11

Dame Pamela was the first up on Christmas Day. It was still dark and she turned her bedside lamp on. Warm light filled the room as she placed her feet in her sequinned slippers. She didn’t feel good. Her heart was racing and she’d had the most terrible nightmare that the Christmas tree had crashed down in the hallway, trapping several guests under an avalanche of baubles.

She yawned and got washed and dressed, blow-drying her hair and applying her make-up.

‘How did my face become so
old
?’ she asked the reflection that stared at her from out of the dressing table mirror. Beside the perfume bottles sat a silver-framed photograph of Dame Pamela in her much-loved production of
Sense and Sensibility
. She’d played Marianne Dashwood and had captured the hearts of every red-blooded man in the country. She picked up the photograph and stared at it, noting the flawless skin and the red-gold ringlets before returning her gaze to the ghostly face in the mirror once more. There was only one thing for it –
more
make-up.

Twenty minutes later, she was fully made-up and dressed, choosing the rich burgundy velvet gown trimmed with black lace. A pair of ruby stud earrings and her favourite ruby ring were chosen. Perfect for Christmas Day.

Leaving her bedroom, she walked the length of hallway that led to her study. It was lined with photographs of the great and the good and Dame Pamela nodded to a few of the friendly faces from the world of film and theatre including Sir Laurence Olivier who had once flirted with her at a charity dinner.

She loved her study first thing in the morning, opening the shutters and letting the first light in. It was a quiet time for her to contemplate the day that lay before her and to browse through some of the fan mail. People really were very sweet. She was still getting fan mail for films she’d made decades ago. Christmas cards too. Robyn had made a couple of cardboard Christmas trees painted in jolly colours to hold some of them and Dame Pamela smiled at them now. She adored her fans as much as they adored her and that had been one of the reasons she’d bought the first edition of
Pride and Prejudice
– because she didn’t think of it as buying it for herself but rather for all her fellow Austen fans.

The conference was going so well, she thought. She would hold the memory of her guests’ faces when she’d brought out the first edition of
Pride and Prejudice
for many years to come. It had been a wonderful, bonding moment between her and the other Janeites and she couldn’t resist opening the safe which was hidden behind a painting of herself in the role of Ophelia in
Hamlet
. Higgins had told her that it wasn’t a very original place to have a safe but Dame Pamela had adored the idea of having it behind her portrait and wouldn’t listen to any advice. But, that morning, when she removed the painting and entered the code, her heart almost stopped because the first edition was no longer there.

Mia couldn’t help it. She was worse than a child on Christmas morning and was out of bed way before the first streaks of light brightened the land.

‘Sarah!’ she whispered in her sister’s ear. ‘Sarah – it’s Christmas!’

‘What?’ Sarah muttered something from under her duvet and turned over.

Mia tried again. ‘We’ll be late!’ she said.

Sarah was sitting upright in a flash. ‘Late? Didn’t my alarm go off?’

Mia grinned.

‘It hasn’t gone off yet, has it, Mia?’

‘Not exactly,’ she said.

‘Oh, Mia!’

‘But it’s Christmas morning and you shouldn’t spend it
sleeping!
’ she chided.

‘It doesn’t look like I’m going to get much choice in the matter, does it?’ Sarah swung her legs out of bed and carefully put her slippers on – left then right.

‘Presents!’ Mia shouted.

‘Not yet,’ Sarah said. ‘Wash and dress first!’

Mia sighed but then washed and dressed in record time but then had to wait for Sarah who took simply ages to do everything perfectly and in the right order.

Finally, they were ready.

‘Open yours first!’ Mia said, handing her sister a tiny package wrapped in metallic green paper.