Mr. Darcy Forever (8 page)

Deciding not to grunt back in response, she placed her mug on a little table and sat on the sofa.

‘
You don’t mind if I watch something, do you?’ she asked, thinking it polite to check.

A grunt came from behind the racing pages and Mia took it as a form of consent. She picked up the remote controls and switched the TV on and then pressed play on the DVD player and the bright image of the Cobb at Lyme Regis filled the screen. Shelley had obviously started watching it yet again and Mia decided not to rewind it. The Lyme Regis scenes were amongst her favourite.

She was just reaching the famous moment when Louisa Musgrove flings herself from the Cobb steps when Pie mumbled something incomprehensible and left the room.

‘
I guess he's not an Austen fan,’ Mia said with a little smile. Either that or he’d already overdosed on them since sharing a house with Shelley. She did, after all, have just about every single Jane Austen adaptation that had ever been made. There were two
Persuasions
in her collection and wasn't there a new version to look forward to? Mia had read on one of the Austen forums that Oli Wade Owen and Gemma Reilly had been filming in Bath in May and June. If only she could have seen that. She was a big Oli Wade Owen fan but perhaps the sight of him dressed as Captain Wentworth would have been more then she could have borne. She would have been sure to have swooned in the streets and that would never do.

Mia forwarded the 1995 film to the Bath scenes and recognized the house in Sydney Place. She'd once taken a walk there and had regretted wearing her little ballet pumps instead of a sensible pair of trainers because it was a good walk from the centre of Bath but it had been worth it. She had felt like she’d entered one of the scenes from the film and could just imagine Anne Elliot emerging from the front door. That was part of the magic of Bath – it was like one big glorious film set and one could happily imagine that an Austen character would materialize from a shop or a side street at any moment.

It was getting dark by the time Shelley had finished Mia’s dress. Mia had watched to the end of
Persuasion
and then returned upstairs.

‘
There you go, sweetie,’ Shelley said as Mia entered the room. ‘Try that on for size.’

Mia did as she was told and Shelley helped her to do the dress up at the back.

‘
That certainly feels a lot better,’ Mia said.

‘
It looks gorgeous!’ Shelley said, peering at Mia’s reflection in the mirror from behind her shoulder.

Mia nodded.

‘
What is it?’ Shelley asked with a frown.

‘
Nothing,’ Mia said.

‘
Don’t you like it?’

‘
I love it. It looks great.’

‘
Then what is it? What’s wrong, Mia?’ Shelley asked. ‘I wish you’d tell me. All the energy seems to have drained out of you.’

Mia moved away from her and tried to get out of the dress which was, of course, impossible without Shelley's help.

‘
You used to tell me everything,’ Shelley said, following her and unbuttoning the back of the dress.

‘
There’s nothing to tell. Why do you think I have something to tell you?’

‘
Because I know you. Or, at least, I used to know you.’

‘
What could I possibly have to tell you?’

‘
Well, I don’t know!’ Shelley said, exasperation filling her voice. ‘I was kind of hoping you’d fill me in on that one!’

Mia sighed. ‘If I had something to tell you, I’d tell you, believe me.’

With that, Mia left the room and it was Shelley’s turn to sigh.

‘
I wish I believed you,’ Shelley whispered to herself, ‘but I don’t. I really don’t.’

In her hotel just off Great Pulteney Street, Sarah had unpacked and hung up all her clothes, frowning at the barely-noticeable wrinkles that her journey had produced.

Her promenade dress in cream muslin with burgundy trim, was laid out across the bed and she was trying to remember the last time she’d worn it. It would have been the September before they’d visited Barton Cottage.

‘
Because we certainly didn’t come here the September after,’ she said quietly to herself, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking the dress. She remembered the day that she and Mia had their dresses made. They’d been introduced to a woman who specialised in period costume and had driven down to her home in Kent where they were measured for their special dresses. It had been a wonderful day and Sarah smiled as she remembered it. Their love of Jane Austen had certainly led to some fabulous adventures over the years. But it had also cost them their friendship too.

Sarah stood up and walked to the window which looked out over Great Pulteney Street. Just a few years ago, Bath had been their special place and they’d looked forward to the Jane Austen Festival each year, taking time out from their busy lives to spend some quality Austen time together. But the last few years had meant no trip to Bath and Sarah had missed that so much that it hurt.

So what had brought her here now, she wondered? It didn't seem right for her to be here without her sister. For a moment, she thought about the weeks that had led up to her making her decision. She'd been working hard - harder than usual which was saying something because she was a renowned workaholic - but even she had realised that she couldn't keep up the pace and, when she'd realised that the festival was fast approaching, she’d booked her tickets for the events, telling herself that it was a well-deserved treat.

There was just one fear that hovered in the back of her mind. Would Mia be there? She must have asked the question a hundred times but there was no way of knowing the answer. Even if she was there, they might not even see each other. Bath was a large place and there were many events to attend and it was quite possible that they might just keep missing each other. But what if they didn't? What if Mia was there and they ran right into each other at the very first opportunity? What would happen then?

‘
Don’t think about it,’ Sarah said to herself as she began to pleat the bottom of her jumper between her fingers; it was an action that occurred whenever she was anxious.

That evening, she took a walk, making her way towards Pulteney Bridge where she listened to the River Avon wending its way through the city from under the three fine stone arches. She then made her way to the abbey which was lit up like a magical lantern and, although she felt more peace than she had done in a long time, she couldn’t help looking out for Mia, imagining that she might emerge from behind one of the Bath stone colonnades at any moment.

The streets were still busy with people out in search of an evening meal and Sarah smiled as she saw a couple of young women dressed in Regency costume. They obviously couldn’t wait for the official beginning of the festival the next day.

For a moment, Sarah felt a little lonely. Everybody seemed to be in pairs, walking and laughing with a companion and sharing their delight in the evening with them. But Sarah had nobody to share her evening with. Not anymore.

And it’s your own fault,
a little voice said.
You only have yourself to blame.

She took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about that now.

Ever practical, she looked at her watch and decided that it was high time she had something to eat. On her own. It wasn’t ideal but it was the only option available to her so she just had to get on with it.

Eating out was fraught with worries when one suffered from OCD and Sarah was always a bag of nerves. She managed to survive by returning to places that she knew over and over again and she did this now, wending her way through the streets to a little bistro with not so much as a napkin out of place.

Luckily for her, her favourite table in the corner was available. Sarah didn’t like window tables because people would stare in and look at you eating which was most unnerving. Nor did she like tables in thoroughfares where waiters would brush by you or fellow eaters would bump into you. So that usually left very few choices available to her when she ate out. But, tonight, she had her favourite table and that made her happy even though she was dining alone.

She was halfway through her main course when somebody caught her eye. It was a man sitting in the opposite corner of the restaurant reading a book. He had short, dark hair that was cut exceptionally neatly and closely to his head and he was wearing an immaculate navy jacket. He was handsome but didn't look aware of the fact even though he obviously took a pride in how he presented himself. It seemed to Sarah that he wasn't out to impress other people and he was totally unaware of her staring at him. But it wasn't his face Sarah was trying to get a good look at but rather the cover of his book. She was always fascinated by what people were reading and couldn't help wanting to know what this handsome stranger was reading now. Would it be a historical biography or the latest best-selling thriller?

She didn't get to find out until she'd finished her meal. It was then that the gentleman stood up and Sarah's eyes widened in surprise as she saw that the book he'd been reading was the collected letters of Jane Austen. He didn’t look like a Janeite but one could never tell. Jane Austen’s appeal went far beyond romantic females.

She watched as he paid for his meal and placed his book very carefully inside a neat leather briefcase which fastened with a satisfying snap. He then walked towards her and, before leaving the restaurant, he gave her a small smile. Sarah instantly felt her face flush. She'd been caught staring. She never normally stared - it was so rude. Still, if she hadn't been staring, she'd never have seen his smile and it has been a very cute smile indeed.

Later that night, Mia lay awake in the guest bedroom at Southville Terrace, staring at the ceiling. She’d felt awful at having been so mean to Shelley. After all, she'd only wanted to help. But she couldn't. That was the truth of the matter and Mia knew that it was probably best that Shelley knew as little as possible about her life in London.

But how she missed her dear friend. Not long ago, they would have confided in each other about everything. No event in their daily lives was too small or insignificant to muse over and dissect over a cheap bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. Mia missed those conversations so much. She remembered how they would sit on the carpet in their scruffy rented flat in London, their backs up against the sofa as they made themselves a little picnic, with a Jane Austen adaptation playing on the TV before them. How many evenings they would pass that way, bemoaning failed relationships, stressing about the scripts they had to learn for drama school and musing about the future which would invariably feature a tall, dark hero striding into their lives and making everything perfect.

‘
Not that I don't want to be an independent woman,’ Shelley would say, ‘but I'd be quite happy for the man in my life to own an estate like Pemberley.’

Mia had agreed wholeheartedly. Fine country estates had to be owned by somebody so why shouldn't they belong to the men that they would one day date? But a Fitzwilliam Darcy or a Henry Tilney had yet to make an appearance on the horizon and both Mia and Shelley had to get their fix from fiction rather than real life.

Mia wondered what had been going on in her friend’s life. They’d talked so little over the last few years and Mia realised that so much had changed between them. Perhaps the next few days would make amends and they’d open up to one another.

Shelley had known that something was wrong straight away, hadn’t she? And Mia realised that her friend probably wouldn't let the matter drop until she'd got to the bottom of things. And here she was thinking that she could leave all her problems behind her in London. She didn't want them following her to Bath but you took your problems with you wherever you went. A beautiful place didn’t have magical qualities which vanquished all your troubles. Even if Mia was to find herself whisked into the very heart of Pemberley, she’d still have to deal with the problems she’d accumulated in her life. She couldn’t just shut them out.

‘
I know I can’t,’ she whispered into the darkness of the room. ‘But let me forget about them for a little while at least.’