What Would Lizzy Bennet Do? (23 page)

‘Why don’t we compromise? We can have a small ceremony in your family’s chapel with all of our closest friends, and then a really swish reception to follow. Outdoors, if the weather cooperates.’

He smiled. ‘“Swish” it is, then. Striped marquees and a band and lobster on ice. I’ll let my mother know so that you two can make your plans. I can hardly wait to call you my wife.’ And he took her in his arms and lowered his mouth once again to hers, and kissed her.

For some moments Holly gave herself over to him, as hungry for his head-spinning kisses as she was for these precious moments alone with him; then she lifted her eyes to his as she bracketed his face in her hands. ‘I love you, Mr Darcy.’

‘And I love you, Mrs Darcy.’

‘“Mrs Darcy”,’ she whispered, and felt a thrill to hear him say it. She kissed him once again, long and lingeringly. ‘I
do
so like the sound of that.’

Chapter 29

The spaniels raced after one another to Cleremont’s front door early the next afternoon, barking as the bell sounded and echoed through the house.

‘Lady de Byrne to see you, Lady Darcy,’ the butler announced, appearing at the drawing room door a few moments later with the visitor standing beside him.

‘Thank you. How nice to see you again, Georgina. Please, come in and sit.’ Hugh’s mother stood and indicated a chair near her own place on the sofa. ‘Would you like a drink? Tea, perhaps – or something stronger?’

‘No, thank you, I’m fine. I only just finished a rather substantial luncheon.’ So saying, Lady de Byrne took her seat and rested her handbag on her lap and eyed Lady Darcy. ‘I’m here to discuss Hugh’s upcoming wedding.’

‘Thank you, Higgins, that will be all,’ Lady Darcy told the butler. As he departed she turned back to her guest. ‘Perfect timing,’ she remarked as she resumed her own seat once again. ‘Hugh and Holly and I had a discussion about that very thing only this morning, at breakfast.’

‘Indeed? And what’s the consensus? Do the young lovebirds want a large wedding, or something smaller?’

‘Something, thankfully, in between.’ Sarah Darcy leaned back against the cushions. Briefly she outlined the couple’s wishes to invite only their closest friends to a simple ceremony in the family chapel, with a more lavish reception to follow.

Lady Georgina nodded in approval. ‘Very sensible. Weddings are costly, and in my opinion they’ve spiralled out of hand of late. And in view of… the circumstances, such restraint on Hugh’s part is quite proper.’

‘The problem is the reception.’ Lady Darcy frowned and reached for her teacup. ‘I don’t like the idea of hundreds of inebriated guests wandering round the property and roaming through the house.’

‘But you have weddings here at Cleremont all the time,’ Lady de Byrne pointed out. ‘Some of them quite large.’

‘Yes. But we only host the ceremonies, not the receptions. I can’t risk damage to Cleremont’s priceless furnishings or artwork. Not to mention damage to the grass from marquee stakes and dance floors and suchlike.’ She lifted her brow in distaste.

‘There’s a simple solution.’ Lady Georgina folded her hands together atop her handbag. ‘Let Hugh and Holly hold the reception at Rosings.’

‘At Rosings?’ she echoed, her expression registering surprise at the suggestion. ‘Surely not. You’ve never hosted a wedding there before.’

‘No, I haven’t. My daughter robbed me of that pleasure by marrying that money-grubbing husband of hers in a civil ceremony in Ealing.’ She sniffed. ‘That’s why I’d very much like to put Rosings at my godson’s disposal for his wedding reception.’

‘That’s very kind of you, I’m sure,’ Lady Sarah said doubtfully. ‘But the practicalities…’

‘The ballroom at Rosings will serve nicely for an indoor reception, and God knows there’s plenty of room outside if Holly and Hugh wish to set up marquees and celebrate their marriage out of doors.’

‘You’re most generous. I don’t… I don’t know quite what to say.’

Lady de Byrne stood. ‘There’s nothing to say. I’ve made the offer; now you must relay my invitation to your son and his intended bride. I – and Rosings – are at your family’s disposal.’

***

‘I can’t believe,’ Emma said as she slid behind the wheel of her father’s Mini after lunch, ‘that we’re willingly going off to visit the dragon again, and so soon.’

‘It was Daddy’s idea,’ Lizzy said as she lowered herself into the passenger seat. ‘He says Lady de Byrne is lonely, and it’s our Christian duty to bring a bit of liveliness to her door.’

‘I doubt that our visit will bring her anything but indigestion.’ Emma started the engine and shifted into gear. ‘I think perhaps Daddy’s confused Christian duty with feeding the Christians to the lions.’

‘Probably. But I do think Lady de B liked having Holly to stay with her, and she liked having us to visit. She seemed… happier than I ever remember seeing her.’

‘Yes. She was almost human,’ Emma said dryly. She let out a theatrical sigh and backed the car down the drive and onto the road. ‘Let’s go to Rosings, then, and see if our luck holds.’

They arrived at Rosings at the same moment Lady de Byrne drew up in her chauffeured car, and Lizzy and Emma crunched across the gravelled drive to greet her.

‘We’ve come to visit, if that’s all right,’ Lizzy offered as the driver opened the rear door and Lady de Byrne emerged.

‘How very nice.’ Hugh’s godmother looked quite surprised at the news. ‘But I’m afraid Holly’s no longer here. Her ankle is recovered and she’s gone back to Cleremont. I just came from there, as a matter of fact.’

‘Oh, we didn’t come to see Holly,’ Emma assured her. ‘We’ve come to see you… unless this isn’t a convenient time…?’

‘Nonsense! It’s a perfect time. And I must say, I’m pleased,’ Hugh’s godmother replied. ‘Come along inside, both of you, and sit down.’

Over glasses of ginger ale and cake, the girls regaled Lady de Byrne with stories of their father’s garden party. ‘We made gallons of tomato chutney and a vat of prawn salad,’ Emma confided, ‘and poor Daddy baked for two days straight.’ She picked up her fork. ‘I must say, his scones went down a treat this time. I believe his baking skills are improved.’

‘I don’t know why you girls are so determined to mock your father’s scones,’ Lady Georgina remonstrated. ‘I tried a few, and they were excellent. The strawberry scones were particularly good.’

‘You’d understand why, if you’d tasted his first efforts,’ Lizzy assured her, and smiled. ‘They were awful, as inedible as… as doorstops.’

‘Hockey pucks,’ Emma agreed, and grimaced.

‘Well, you should encourage Mr Bennet, then, so that he might endeavour to improve.’

Lizzy was about to argue that encouraging their father was exactly what they’d tried to do, when the doorbell rang. She rose halfway to her feet. ‘I’ll get that.’

‘Banks will see to it,’ Lady de Byrne said. ‘Sit down, Elizabeth.’

She sank back onto the sofa cushions and ignored Emma’s smirk at her unintended
faux pas
. She heard the butler’s footsteps cross the entrance hall, and the rise and fall of voices as he opened the door, but she couldn’t make out the words. A moment later Banks appeared in the drawing room.

‘There’s a visitor in the hallway, Lady de Byrne.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘For your daughter, Imogen.’

‘Well, show the young woman in, then.’

He coughed slightly, and cleared his throat. ‘It’s a… gentleman, my lady. He says Mrs Clarke has invited him to Rosings to stay. Indefinitely.’

‘What?’ Lady Georgina drew herself up and surged to her feet. ‘The cheek! Excuse me, girls, but let me just go and get to the bottom of this. Do relax while I see who this is. I’ll return shortly.’

So saying, she swept out of the room after Banks, leaving Lizzy and Emma behind, regarding each other with undisguised curiosity.

‘Who do you suppose it is?’ Lizzy whispered as Lady de Byrne marched out into the hallway.

‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ Emma replied. ‘Probably some friend of Imogen’s from London.’

‘Maybe it’s her ex-husband.’

‘If that’s the case,’ Emma pointed out, ‘she’d hardly invite him here, would she?’

‘No, I suppose not…’

The sisters exchanged a glance and, without a word, got to their feet and made their way, as quietly as possible, nearer to the drawing room door.

‘…name is Slade, Oliver Slade. I’m a writer. Imogen – pardon me, Mrs Clarke – and I go a long way back.’

‘Is that right?’ Lady de Byrne enquired. ‘How did the two of you meet?’

‘Oh, years ago it was. Don’t remember, precisely. At any rate, we met at a party at the Marquess of Cavendish’s country estate,’ he added. ‘Quite posh it was.’

Lizzy risked a peek around the drawing room door. Oliver Slade was middle-aged, with thinning sandy blond hair and a pleasant if unremarkable face.

‘How extraordinary, then, that she’s never mentioned you before,’ Lady de Byrne observed.

Just then footsteps came lightly down the stairs as Imogen arrived. She glanced at the visitor standing inside the door and froze to a stop on the bottom step.

‘Ollie,’ she said. Her perfectly made up face went ashen and pale. ‘What on earth are
you
doing here?’

‘Now, Immy, is that any way to greet an old friend?’ he joked. Lizzy noted that although Imogen looked as though she’d inadvertently dropped her knickers in front of the Queen, Oliver appeared unfazed. ‘You’ll hurt my feelings.’

Imogen said nothing. It was apparent, to Lizzy at least, that she was at a complete loss for words.

‘I was just telling your lovely mother here that we ran into each other at Ascot, and you invited me to stay at Rosings for regatta week. Very generous offer, that, since all the hotels hereabouts are booked up,’ he added, and smiled over at Imogen. ‘But then you always were a generous one, Immy.’

‘Please don’t call me that.’ Her words were polite but firm. ‘No one’s called me that since I was at school.’

‘Yes, that was always our special thing, wasn’t it, Imogen?’ he agreed. ‘One of our little… secrets.’

Although his expression was affable, there was a note of something else behind his voice; something odd that Lizzy couldn’t quite place. Something steely. Was it a warning, perhaps?

‘I hope you don’t mind, Mother,’ Imogen said as she rallied and came down the last step to approach Lady de Byrne. ‘I’d forgotten that I invited to Oliver to visit when I was last in London.’ Her expression as she looked at him plainly said she wished he’d forgotten, as well.

‘Not at all. Banks,’ Hugh’s godmother said as she turned to the butler, ‘kindly carry our guest’s luggage upstairs to the blue room at the top of the stairs, and then inform the cook that we shall have another guest at dinner.’

‘Right away.’ He nodded and reached for the two rather battered suitcases at Oliver’s feet and took them upstairs.

‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Imogen, Mr Slade,’ Lady de Byrne informed them. ‘I’ve guests of my own in the drawing room to see to. Let me just inform cook that there’ll be another person at the dinner table tonight. I’ll see you both later.’

The moment she left, Imogen rounded on her visitor. ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed. ‘And how did you find me? The truth, mind – none of this “we met at Ascot” crap.’

Slade smiled, unperturbed. ‘I’m a reporter, aren’t I? Only took a bit of digging to learn you’d sold up and left London. I knew you and Simon split up, and with no money to your name – it’s on public record that you didn’t get much of a divorce settlement – I figured you’d run to ground here, back to your rich mum.’ He lifted a brow. ‘Looks like I was right.’

Lizzy glanced, wide-eyed, at Emma, and the two girls scurried back to resume their seats just as Lady Georgina returned from her foray into the kitchen.

‘I apologise for the interruption,’ she said, and took her seat on the sofa once again. ‘Now… where were we?’

‘We were discussing my father’s scones,’ Emma said, and sipped her ginger ale. ‘Quite a riveting topic.’

‘You must not disparage Mr Bennet’s efforts, Emma,’ Lady de Byrne scolded her. ‘Such things keep your father occupied, after all, and give him a useful skill as well, one which will no doubt improve him. And it keeps him from dwelling on the loss of your dear mother.’

There was a small silence. ‘As to that,’ Lizzy offered, both in an effort to lighten the mood and to change the topic, ‘St Mark’s has a new organist, Araminta Hornsby. Daddy’s quite taken with her.’

‘Really.’ Hugh’s godmother looked taken aback. ‘Is that so? Perhaps I should go to church this Sunday and see for myself.’

‘You’re welcome to join us.’ Emma set her glass aside. ‘Lizzy and Charlotte and I are invited for a cruise on the
Meryton
afterwards. We’re looking forward to it.’

‘Isn’t the
Meryton
that film actor’s yacht?’

‘Yes, Ciaran Duncan. He hopes to win the regatta, but my money’s on the
Pemberley
.’

‘I have a yacht moored at the marina,’ Lady de Byrne remarked. ‘But I haven’t boarded it in years. It belonged to my husband, Alfred. I really should sell it, I suppose.’

‘You should hire a crew,’ Lizzy suggested, ‘and go for a cruise sometimes.’

‘Oh, I do keep a small crew – the
Rosings
was built in 1903, so there’s a great deal of teak and brass to maintain and polish – and they take it out a few times a year.’

‘You should enter it in the regatta next year.’ Lizzy smiled. ‘Give the
Pemberley
a run for its money.’

‘Perhaps I should,’ Hugh’s godmother agreed, with a thoughtful expression on her face. ‘And perhaps I’ll arrange a cruise for you and your sisters. And your father, of course,’ she added.

‘That sounds great. Now, if you’ll pardon us,’ Emma said as she stood, ‘Lizzy and I have some errands to run in Litchfield. We’d best be going.’

‘Goodbye, girls.’ Lady de Byrne stood as well. ‘I’ve enjoyed your visit. You must come again, whenever you like. Perhaps I’ll see you at St Mark’s on Sunday.’

‘We’ll look forward to it.’ Emma smiled and turned to the door, Lizzy trailing behind.

‘I can’t believe Hugh’s godmother wants to go to church with us on Sunday,’ Lizzy said as they returned to the car. ‘She must really like us.’