What Would Lizzy Bennet Do? (32 page)

Then when, she wondered as she flung off her clothes and stalked, scowling, into the adjoining bathroom, did he imagine it
would
be a good idea to get together? Tomorrow? Next week? Next bloody
year
?

He’d made the prospect of spending the night together sound as dry and perfunctory as – as brokering a business arrangement.

She turned the shower on to full strength. Was he really so inhibited by his parents’ presence? Granted, Lady Darcy could be pretty intimidating, and her husband as well; but Hugh was hardly a teenager. He was a grown man.

Her hand froze on the taps as an unwelcome idea occurred to her. Did Hugh, perhaps, simply not
want
to be with her, now – or ever? Did he put her off because he was uncomfortable having sex with his fiancée under his parents’ roof…

…or, despite his denials, did he put her off because his heart belonged to someone else?

And was that ‘someone else’ Jacinta Harlowe? Or, more worrisome still… was it Elizabeth Bennet?

Why hadn’t Hugh told her about his engagement to Jacinta? Why didn’t her future husband trust her enough to confide in her?

She didn’t know. But as she stepped into the shower and reached for a bar of soap, Holly began to cry, and her tears mingled with the water sluicing down her face as she wondered if her upcoming marriage to Hugh Darcy wasn’t, perhaps, a very great mistake.

Chapter 38

Mr Bennet had never felt himself so buffeted by the winds of his daughters’ emotions as he was on this Sunday morning.

‘I found my sunnies!’ Charli announced, and waved the pink, heart-shaped sunglasses in question triumphantly over her head as she hurtled down the stairs and into the kitchen.

‘Where were they?’ Lizzy enquired.

‘In my jacket pocket.’

‘It would have served you right,’ Emma told her as she studied her sun-hatted reflection in the hallway mirror, ‘if you’d left them on the beach and never seen them again.’

‘Don’t forget to take
Anna Karenina
and
Crime and Punishment
along with you on the cruise today,’ Charli retorted.

‘And why would I do that?’

‘Because you know you won’t have any fun. You never do. You’d much rather mope around and read tragic Russian novels than – God forbid – have a laugh.’

‘And why don’t
you
,’ Emma said sweetly, ‘bring along lots of nice, trashy tabloids? That’s more
your
speed, isn’t it – celebrity gossip and lots of simple one-syllable words?’

Their father rattled his newspaper. ‘Girls, please,’ he sighed. ‘Enough. I shall not ask you again.’

‘Are you sure you won’t go with us on the
Meryton
, Daddy?’ Lizzy asked him, and topped up his mug of coffee. ‘I’m sure Ciaran won’t mind; there’s plenty of room aboard the yacht.’

‘Thank you, but no. I doubt that Mr Duncan wished the pleasure of my company today, or he would’ve invited me. Since he did not, I can only assume I wouldn’t be welcome.’

‘It’s wonderful he won the race, isn’t it?’ Charlotte piped up. Her face clouded. ‘Although I’m sorry for Harry. I know how badly he wanted to win the regatta. It was strange, wasn’t it,’ she mused. ‘All of those seagulls descending on the
Pemberley
at the last minute…’

‘Very strange,’ Lizzy agreed, and frowned. ‘One might even say it was suspicious.’

‘What do you mean?’ Emma asked, and lifted her brow. ‘Are you saying that someone deliberately caused those gulls to attack the Darcys’ yacht? But how would they do that? And more importantly –
who
would do such a thing?’

‘Someone who wanted to win, very badly.’

Charli’s eyes widened. ‘You think Ciaran cheated? How could you even suggest such a thing, Lizzy? He never would! He won, fair and square. Besides, Emma’s right. How on earth would he have managed it?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘It is a bit far-fetched, I suppose. Still… it’s most odd.’

‘Are you girls ready to go?’ Mr Bennet asked, a hopeful expression on his face as Lizzy grabbed her beach tote and Emma slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops. ‘You don’t want to keep Mr Duncan and his crew waiting.’

Lizzy nodded and glanced at Emma. ‘I think we’re ready. Charli?’

Her youngest sister thrust her heart-shaped sunglasses on her face. ‘Ready!’

‘Well, then, girls,’ Mr Bennet said as he followed them out to the front door, ‘drive safely, and have fun.’ He frowned at Charlotte. ‘But not too much fun, mind.’

She grinned and threw her arms around him as her sisters went out to the car. ‘Oh, Daddy – you worry far too much. We’re only going on a cruise, and then to watch the fireworks this evening. What could possibly go wrong?’

And as he kissed the top of her head and waved goodbye from the doorstep as the Mini drove away, Mr Bennet realised she was right, and turned back inside, where he looked forward to reading his pile of Sunday newspapers in blissful, uninterrupted peace.

***

‘Welcome to the
Meryton
, ladies. Please, come aboard.’

‘Isn’t this exciting?’ Lizzy murmured to Emma as she gripped her beach tote and eyed the handsome young man in ship’s whites who’d just greeted them. ‘I can hardly wait.’

The crewman waiting at the top of the yacht’s gangplank smiled as the girls filed aboard, eyeing Charlotte’s rope-soled wedges and giving her a wink. ‘Watch your step in those shoes, miss. Don’t want to be fishin’ you out of the drink, do I?’

‘I don’t drink,’ Charli informed him primly. ‘We’re here to enjoy the cruise, not to get inebriated.’

‘He means “the drink”, as in “the sea”,’ Emma informed her, and rolled her eyes. ‘God, you’re such an idiot.’

Charlotte turned beet-red. ‘And
you’re
such a bit…’

‘Girls!’ Ciaran exclaimed, and came forward to greet them. ‘Welcome aboard. Tom, take our guests’ things down to the lounge.’

Today, Lizzy noted, the film star wore shorts and a white polo shirt, and his feet were thrust into deck shoes. His legs and forearms were lightly tanned and a pair of sunglasses covered his eyes.

Tom nodded. ‘Right away.’ And with another wink at Charlotte, still flushed with embarrassment, he took their beach totes and towels and vanished below deck.

‘Please, make yourselves at home.’ Ciaran held out his hand to indicate a line of cushioned wooden loungers that marched along either side of the deck railing. ‘Once we’re underway, the chef will bring out Mimosas and Bloody Marys for anyone who wants them, and brunch will be served at ten o’clock.’

‘Fab,’ Charli breathed, and plunked herself on one of the blue-and-white-striped, cushioned loungers. ‘I could get used to this.’

‘Please ask the chef to make Charlotte’s Mimosa without alcohol, please,’ Emma told Ciaran. ‘And mine as well.’

He nodded and relayed her instructions to Tom, who’d reappeared to take their drink orders.

‘Right,’ Tom said, and turned to go. He gave Charlotte a cheeky grin. ‘Two virgins and one experienced, coming right up.’

‘Why can’t I have a proper Mimosa?’ Charli complained as he left, and glared over at Emma. ‘I’m of age! It isn’t fair.’

‘Because neither of us had breakfast,’ Emma pointed out, ‘and alcohol and an empty stomach don’t mix.’

‘What about after breakfast?’ Charli asked, hopefully. ‘Can I have a drink then?’

‘We’ll see.’

Lizzy plopped down in between her sisters and leaned back against the cushions. ‘Oh, let her have a bit of fun, Em. At least let us each have one drink apiece. No one ever got drunk off one drink, did they?’

‘No, I suppose not,’ she agreed, and smiled. ‘It’ll be an awfully long cruise without at least
one
alcoholic beverage to liven things up.’

***

At some point in the early afternoon, after a couple of delicious (and rather strong) frozen Margaritas, Lizzy stretched out on her lounger and closed her eyes. The breeze ruffled her hair, the sun warmed her skin, and the rhythmic lap of the waves against the hull made her eyes, behind their sunglasses, grow heavy.

She yawned. Thank goodness she’d remembered to wear her sun hat…

When Lizzy awoke several hours later, it was late afternoon and the
Meryton
had sailed back into the harbour to anchor just offshore from Longbourne.

She sat up, feeling refreshed, and stood and went to rest her arms along the railing. Emma and Charli had gone aft, both of them lying out on beach towels, their skin glistening with sun cream and perspiration.

Lizzy smiled and returned her attention to the little seaside town on the shoreline. She could just make out the ice cream truck where she and Harry had shared Magnums the day she’d run out of the dress shop. Her smile faded.

She hadn’t done much of anything after that day – or since she’d returned to Litchfield Manor, for that matter –in the way of planning her future. But now that Hugh and Holly were to be married, now that he’d made it plain he had no romantic attachment to her, Lizzy knew it was past time to leave.

I’ll contact Mark Knightley first thing tomorrow
, she decided,
and ask if I can put his name down as a reference on my CV. I’m sure he won’t mind…

Just then Lizzy noticed a small but sleek powerboat, anchored, like them, offshore. It bobbed up and down on the gentle swell of the waves. There were a couple of men onboard – one, with binoculars raised and held up to his eyes. He was tall, with thinning brownish-blond hair.

It was Oliver Slade, she realised with a start. Imogen’s journo friend from London – the man who was staying at Rosings – was spying on
them
!

His binoculars were unmistakably trained on the
Meryton
. And a camera hung round his neck. It wasn’t a tourist-type camera, either, she noticed. It was a proper, professional camera with a telephoto lens.

With a frown, Lizzy glanced aft to see what Emma and Charli were doing. She hoped her youngest sister hadn’t decided to do something rattle-brained or scandalous, like sitting on Ciaran’s lap, or something…

But, thankfully, nothing untoward met her gaze, only the sight of Em and Charlotte, sitting back on sun loungers. Both girls had let the straps of their suits down in an effort to tan their shoulders, and Ciaran sat on the lounger between them, looking very handsome in his swim trunks and bare chest, sipping a glass of white wine as he and Emma had a desultory conversation about
Anna Karenina
.

‘I played Count Vronsky in a West End production last year, you know,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Emma said. ‘It got only tolerable reviews, as I recall.’ She smiled to take the sting out of her words. ‘But
you
got loads of kudos for your performance.’

‘I did. Pity I didn’t land the film role, though.’ He frowned. ‘It went to that bloody
Superman
bloke.’

‘He’s not nearly as talented as you,’ Emma assured him.

‘And he’s not half as handsome,’ Charli added, and giggled.

‘Thank you, ladies.’ Ciaran smiled lazily and raised his glass of wine to them. ‘Cheers.’

Lizzy returned her attention to the man in the powerboat. Now he’d exchanged the binoculars for his camera, and he held it up, snapping photos. She frowned, perplexed. There was nothing of interest going on in the bay, or anywhere nearby; besides, it looked as if his camera lens was pointed straight at… the
Meryton
.

‘Mr Duncan,’ she said, still frowning as she approached him, ‘I thought you should know that there’s a man with binoculars and a camera on a boat over there, watching us, and taking pictures.’

‘Bloody paps,’ he said, and sighed. He barely gave the man in the boat a glance before he finished his wine and set it down, gesturing to Tom to bring him another.

‘What… what should we do?’ she asked.

‘Oh, just ignore them. They’ll go away eventually, after they get their long-range pictures of me. No doubt making sure,’ he added with a scowl, ‘that I look my absolute worst when they publish their nasty, grainy photo spread.’

Although the thought of someone taking photos of her and her sisters as they lounged on the
Meryton
in their swimsuits made Lizzy a trifle uneasy, she took her cue from Ciaran, accepted another frozen Margarita on the tray Tom held out to her, and gave the matter no further thought.

***

Holly managed to avoid Hugh for the better part of Sunday morning. Pleading a headache, she had her breakfast, and later lunch, on a tray in her room and tried to make sense of her jumbled emotions.

On the one hand, she admired Hugh Darcy. He was the best, the finest man she’d ever known. He was handsome, and decent, and smart, and – well, okay, he wasn’t all that much fun to be around sometimes; he could be judgemental, and exacting, and way, way too serious.

But despite all of that, she loved him. How could she not?

Holly frowned and chewed disconsolately on her sandwich. No, the real question was – did Darcy love her in return? Or did he only
say
he did?

She set the sandwich aside and toyed with the bracelet he’d brought her back from Derbyshire, studying the miniature silver sheep with its tiny black face in puzzlement. Surely a man like Hugh – so steadfast and thoughtful, so kind and considerate – wouldn’t lie about his feelings.

But she couldn’t help wondering… did his heart really belong to her? Or did it belong to Elizabeth Bennet?

There was a knock on the door.

‘Holly? May I come in?’ Hugh asked.

She put the lunch tray aside and sat up in bed. ‘Of course.’

Hugh opened the door and strode in, an expression of concern on his face. ‘Are you all right? Why didn’t you come down for breakfast, and now lunch? We missed you.
I
missed you.’

‘I had a headache. It’s… better now.’ Her smile was noncommittal.

‘Oh. Well, I’m glad to hear it.’ He stood awkwardly by the bed and cleared his throat. ‘Will you come back downstairs?’

Holly reached for a magazine on the bedside table and flicked it open. ‘Do you know? I think I won’t. I feel like spending the rest of the afternoon just lazing in bed.’

Alone
, she nearly added.
Since you obviously don’t want to be here in bed
with
me
.