At Home with Mr Darcy (7 page)

High above Lyme Park in Drinkwater Meadow, Katherine and Warwick stood spell bound as they gazed at the little lake.

‘So, this is where the immortal scene happened,’ Katherine said, thinking of the genius moment created by the pen of Andrew Davies when Mr Darcy had removed his dark jacket, cravat, waistcoat, breeches and boots before diving into the lake on that hot summer’s day. ‘Tempted?’ She turned dark, sparkling eyes to her husband.

‘It’s certainly warm enough,’ Warwick said.

Katherine’s smile spread over her face. ‘Go on,’ she said.

Warwick’s eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘You wouldn’t let me give you a little kiss and cuddle but you want me to strip off and dive into the lake?’

‘You mean you wouldn’t if I asked you
really
nicely?’ she asked batting her eyelashes in an over-exaggerated manner.

Warwick laughed. ‘Have I ever refused you anything?’ he said.

‘Yes!’ she countered.

‘Like what?’

‘You never let me see your manuscripts when you’re working on them.’ Her hands were on her hips now and her brow was furrowed.

‘That’s because I’m protecting your enjoyment as a reader,’ he said.

‘Rubbish!’ she cried. ‘You don’t want me reading them in case I interfere with them.’

‘Well, there’s that too,’ he said. ‘I don’t want your doctor of literature’s nose poking into my stories.’

Katherine smiled. ‘Quite right too,’ she said. ‘Although I wouldn’t
dream
of interfering.’

Warwick gave her a quizzical look. ‘Really?’

‘Of course I wouldn’t! Well, unless I saw an absolutely massive hole in your plot.’

‘There are no holes in my plots,’ Warwick said, taking a step towards her and kissing the tip of her nose.

‘I know,’ Katherine said, ‘I also know that you’re trying to distract me with all this in the hope that I’ll forget about your swim in the lake.’

Warwick’s mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘I am not!’ he said indignantly.

‘No?’

‘No!’

Slowly, his fingers began to undo the buttons on his white shirt, revealing a tanned chest but he was only half-way done when a group of hikers appeared from over the hill and he hurriedly did them all back up again.

Katherine giggled and the two of them set off across the meadow back to Lyme Park.

Robyn and Melissa were sitting on a bench in the garden. They’d been there for a good five minutes without speaking and Robyn was beginning to get nervous. This wasn’t going to work, was it? Who was she to think that Melissa would just open up to her? It was foolish of her even to attempt to try and understand and help her. Dan was always telling her that she should stop worrying about other people.

‘You’re too kind-hearted, Robyn,’ he’d tell her. ‘You always end up hurting yourself when you can’t help others.’

She thought back to the incident Dan was referring to when Robyn had tried to help Mr Cuthbert in the village. He was a renowned miserly misery and nobody had anything to do with him but Robyn was quite determined to make him a part of village life. Until he’d thrown that ashtray at her and told her to bugger off and mind her own business, that was.

Robyn shook her head as she remembered the scene. Yet here she was again, quite determined to stick her nose into somebody else’s business and try to help them. She took a deep breath. She’d silently count to ten and, if Melissa hadn’t said anything to her by then, Robyn would walk away.

One. Two. Three. Four. Fi–

‘My fiancé left me,’ Melissa suddenly said.

Robyn gasped. ‘He did?’

Melissa nodded, her eyes bright with tears. ‘That’s why I’m here this weekend. My boss asked if there was anyone who wanted to cover this story and I just had to get away so I lied and said I was this big Jane Austen fan.’

‘Well, maybe you will be after this weekend,’ Robyn said gently.

‘Everybody keeps cornering me, trying to tell me what a great writer she is when all I want to do is tell them that anybody who writes about love is a charlatan because it’s all lies, isn’t it? There are
no
happy endings. We
don’t
all meet our Mr Darcys.’

Robyn reached a hand out and clasped Melissa’s arm as a fat tear rolled down the journalist’s pale cheek.

‘I’m so sorry about what happened,’ Robyn said, ‘but you mustn’t think you’ll never meet the right man. Life wouldn’t be worth living if you really believed that.’

‘Well, I do believe it, okay?’ Melissa gave a loud sniff and whipped her tear away with the back of her hand.

Robyn bit her lip. She wasn’t sure what to say next but it would be worse if she didn’t say anything at all. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘About what?’

‘About what happened.’

Melissa stared ahead into the green depths of a tree. ‘What’s there to tell? I was with Greg for two years. That might not seem long but, after a string of short-term boyfriends before that, it seemed like forever to me. I just assumed it would be forever too. We’d even talked about getting engaged but–’

‘What?’

‘He obviously had other ideas. Ideas which involved other women.’

‘Oh, Melissa,’ Robyn said.

‘He left me for our neighbour,’ Melissa said with a hollow laugh. ‘I didn’t even think he liked her! He was always complaining about her dreadful music.’ She paused. ‘He went round there one night about three months ago to have it out with her. I could hear them both shouting through the wall and then it went really quiet and he came stomping back, slamming our front door and cursing her.’

‘So when did you find out they were seeing each other?’

Melissa closed her eyes. ‘I came home early one day from work. I had a stinking cold and felt dreadful. I was going to go straight to bed but the neighbour – Danielle her name is – had her music up at full volume so I went round and knocked on the door. There was no answer for ages so I tried the handle and shouted inside. When the music was turned off, Danielle appeared in the hallway. She was wearing a towel and her hair was dripping down her shoulders. When she saw me, this look of horror passed over her face and I knew something wasn’t right but I didn’t expect to see Greg there. I just wish he’d been wearing a towel too.’

Robyn’s eyes widened at the revelation. ‘What did you do?’

‘I locked him out of our flat. I’ve left it since then. I couldn’t stay there after that. I’m sleeping on a friend’s sofa until things are sorted out.’

Robyn leaned forward. ‘Things will get better,’ she said.

‘Will they?’

‘Of course they will,’ Robyn said. ‘You know, I reached rock bottom too recently. I was with someone who made me unhappy and I didn’t know how to get out of it. I felt as if my life was over and I’d never be happy again but then I met Dan and fell madly in love. We’ve got a daughter now.’

‘Well, I’m very happy for you but that isn’t going to happen for me, is it?’ Melissa got up off the bench and walked away. Robyn followed her.

‘It might seem like it won’t happen but it will,’ Robyn told her.

‘You know that for a fact, do you? You’re going to personally ensure my happiness, are you?’

‘No of course not,’ Robyn said, startled by Melissa’s angry tone, ‘but I wish I could.’

‘Yeah, well wishing for happy ever afters doesn’t make them happen,’ Melissa said, leaving Robyn hopelessly confounded as she strode off down the path.

Dan was in the kitchen at Horseshoe Cottage, trying to extricate Biscuit the terrier from a blue chiffon scarf that he’d somehow managed to pinch when nobody was looking and which was now wound around at least three of his legs.

Dan cursed under his breath as he struggled with his painful leg. First, dear old Moby had tipped his water bowl over, then Cassie had dropped one of her dolls down the back of the sofa and had howled until it had been rescued and now Biscuit appeared to be doing the dance of the seven veils with one of Robyn’s favourite scarves. The morning had not been a relaxing one but at least Biscuit’s antics were making Cassie laugh. She was sitting in her high chair at the other end of the kitchen, giggling in delight at the scene before her.

‘Isn’t he a naughty boy, Cassie? What are we going to do with him?’ Dan said, finally extricating the little dog from the silky tangle he’d got himself into.

There was a knock at the door. Dan stood back up to full height, grabbed his crutches and went to see who it was. He wasn’t expecting anybody but wasn’t at all surprised to discover Higgins on the doorstep.

‘I took the liberty of making you some soup, sir,’ he said.

‘Oh, Higgins – that is kind of you,’ Dan said. ‘Come in.’

Higgins walked into the kitchen and placed the covered pan on the cooker and then went over to where Cassie was and patted her red-gold curls.

‘How are you, my little dear?’ he said.

Cassie smiled up at him and the smile got broader as Higgins dug into his waistcoat pocket and produced a jelly baby.

‘You do spoil her, Higgins,’ Dan said.

‘Not at all, sir,’ he said. ‘She’s a little cherub. Now, let’s get this soup on the go.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Dan said.

‘You sit down, sir. I’ve got it all under control.’

And Dan really was going to sit down because he knew Higgins wouldn’t take no for an answer but something caught his eye out in the garden.

‘Oh, no!’ he cried.

Higgins joined him at the window. ‘Is that hen meant to be in the vegetable patch eating all those lettuces?’

‘Erm, no,’ Dan said and the two of them made for the back door.

‘I’m afraid there are two hens in there,’ Higgins said a moment later and Dan recognised them instantly.

‘Miss Bingley and Lydia,’ he said. ‘Those two are escape artists.’ He did a quick head count of the ones left in the run to make sure there were no others missing and, when he looked back towards the vegetable patch, he saw the strange sight of Higgins chasing a hen around the rows of lettuce. Dan couldn’t help but smile but his expression changed to that of a man impressed when Higgins managed to grab hold of Miss Bingley.

‘Well done, Higgins!’

The butler walked calmly across the lawn, holding the hen tightly against his lime-green waistcoat and Dan watched as he returned the bird to its run before walking back and repeating the process with Lydia.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Dan said. He hadn’t even had a chance to drop his crutches and join in the chase.

‘You’re welcome, sir,’ Higgins said before walking across the lawn back into the cottage as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

But it was all too much for Cassie who suddenly burst into tears when Higgins and her father reappeared.

‘What’s wrong, little one?’ Dan asked, leaning his crutches against the wall and picking Cassie up, cuddling her soft, warm body to him. ‘You miss Mummy? I miss her too but she’ll be home soon.’

Cassie pointed out of the window into the garden.

‘Miss Bingley and Lydia are fine now. All safe. Higgins saved the day.
Again.
’ He looked back to where Higgins had resumed heating up the soup on the Aga.

It was then that the phone rang. Dan popped Cassie into her high chair from where she sat watching Higgins whilst he went out to answer the phone.

‘Dan?’

‘Robyn!’

‘Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice.’

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘I’ve just had a really awful conversation with Melissa,’ she said.

‘The journalist?’

‘Yes.’

‘So I take it she isn’t a full-blown Janeite yet?’ Dan asked.

‘We all thought it was going to be so easy,’ Robyn said with a sigh. ‘Play her a few choice scenes and read her a few wonderful passages and she’d be converted in no time.’

‘And that’s not happening?’

‘Not at all,’ Robyn said. ‘I can’t seem to get through to her. Anyway, take my mind off it for a few minutes and tell me what’s going on with you.’

‘Oh, you know,’ he said.

‘I don’t actually,’ Robyn said, ‘because I’ve never left you two alone before, have I?’

Dan laughed. ‘Well, everything’s fine.’

‘Are you sure?’ Robyn asked. ‘Your voice sounds funny.’

‘Does it?’ Dan said.

‘Yes,’ Robyn said. ‘It does.’

‘Just a frog in my throat,’ he said, clearing it.

‘Cassie okay?’

‘Of course,’ he said, briefly recounting the tale of the doll down the sofa.

‘And the hens?’

Dan cleared his throat again. ‘All fine,’ he said. He was most certainly not going to tell her about the hen escapade nor the exploding washing machine incident because he knew she’d only worry.

‘I miss you guys so much,’ she said.

‘We miss you too,’ he said.

‘And the horses are okay? And Moby and Biscuit? Do watch Biscuit with my scarves,’ she said. ‘He’s taken a liking to the sky-blue one recently for some reason.’