A Weekend with Mr. Darcy (11 page)

‘Colin Firth, don't you mean?' Carla said. She seemed to have a knack of turning every conversation back to
Pride and Prejudice
. ‘I think he has to be the definitive Darcy, doesn't he?'

‘Especially when he dives into the lake,' Roberta said with a grin that split her face in two.

Mrs Soames shifted uneasily in her chair. ‘How is it that every conversation about Jane Austen inevitably turns to Colin Firth in a wet shirt?'

The room was suddenly filled with laughter and whisperings about the famous scene. Mrs Soames, it seemed, was the only one to complain.

Robyn was in her room getting dressed for dinner and dreading the approaching arrival of Jace. It just wasn't convenient. There was dinner and then there was the much-looked-forward-to quiz night. How was Jace meant to fit into such a line up?

She thought about calling him to ask him not to come but she knew she'd be wasting her time. No, she thought, she was better off getting on with the evening as best she could and getting rid of Jace as soon as she could—whatever time he made his appearance.

She chose one of her favourite dresses in a sunburnt orange. It reminded her of a sunset, and she liked the way it skimmed over her body without clinging too much. It was threaded through with silver and caught the light. Throwing a long scarf around her shoulders in case the evening got cool, she checked her reflection. Her face had a little more colour in it than usual. Had she caught the sun or was she still flushed from her earlier swimming pool encounter?

‘Stop thinking about him,' she told her reflection.

Why?
a little voice inside her said.
You like thinking about him. It makes you happy.

‘It makes me confused!'

What's confusing about it? He's a handsome man and you're single, aren't you? Or you soon will be. That's what you're planning, isn't it? You're going to break up with Jace so why feel guilty about eyeing the next man?

‘I'm not eyeing him!'

Oh, rubbish! I saw the way you looked at him—all doey-eyed and lovelorn.

‘I was not!'

Were too!

Robyn shook her head. ‘This is ridiculous! Can't I have a polite conversation with a man without suspicions being raised? It doesn't mean I fancy him.'

But you do, don't you?

Robyn stared hard at her reflection, her eyes wide and questioning. ‘I don't know how I feel,' she whispered but as those very words left her mouth, images of Dan strayed through her mind. His smile. His eyes. His body! She couldn't shut them out.

You do know how you feel. You do!
the little voice said, and Robyn sighed. Maybe that's what was bothering her—the realisation that she was a little bit in love.

‘I am not going to leap from one relationship to another,' she told her reflection.

Why not? He's perfect!

‘How do you know that?'

You've only to look at him to know that!

‘That is so shallow!' Robyn said.

But you've talked to him and you've got to agree that he's pretty amazing, right? He adores animals—you've seen him with those horses and dogs. He even showed an interest in
Pride and Prejudice
! What more could you ask for?

Robyn sighed. This was awful. She always shied away from getting herself into awful situations, and here she was, right bang in the middle of one, and it was all her own silly fault.

***

Katherine had been anxious for Warwick since the group discussion. He hastened out of the room before she had a chance to talk to him which seemed odd behaviour because they'd been getting on so well, and she imagined them lingering a while longer in the library together after the group dispersed.

Well, there was nothing as strange as men, she thought as she brushed her hair and changed into a dress the colour of blushing roses. She'd bought it for her first date with David. He picked her up, gave her a single red rose, and drove her to a beautiful out-of-the-way restaurant in the Cotswolds with views of the rolling countryside. Katherine thought she was being spoiled but looking back, she realised that she was probably just being hidden. He wouldn't have wanted to risk being seen in a restaurant in Oxford, would he?

‘Bastard,' she said as she smoothed down the dress. She hadn't worn it since but she hadn't been able to discard it. She might well hate David but she couldn't hate the dress. It was too lovely to be rejected because of its misfortune in having been worn in the company of an idiot.

She left her room and headed downstairs for dinner and spied Warwick at the foot of the stairs. Was he waiting for her? she wondered. He looked up as she walked towards him.

‘Hello,' he said.

‘You disappeared,' she said with a frown.

‘I'm sorry. I had to make a phone call.'

‘Oh,' Katherine said. She had the feeling that he wasn't telling the truth. ‘I'm afraid us ladies can be a bit scary when we start talking about heroes,' she said. ‘Was it awful?'

‘No,' Warwick said. ‘A little scary,' he said, ‘but mostly enjoyable.'

‘You left so suddenly at the end,' she said. ‘I didn't know what happened to you.'

He smiled at her. ‘Shall we go into dinner?'

She nodded but she didn't want to let the subject drop. ‘It must be odd being one of the few men here,' she said. ‘Does it make you uncomfortable?'

‘Why should it?'

‘Well, you didn't exactly join in much with the discussion.'

‘Neither did you.'

‘I said more than you did,' Katherine said, realising that they were beginning to sound like an old married couple.

‘But you didn't stick up for Lorna Warwick, I noticed.'

‘Ah,' Katherine said. ‘I know I didn't, and I feel like a traitor but I have to put my great reputation as a doctor of literature first. Only you know the true feelings I harbour for Lorna Warwick's work.' She gave him a wink.

He grinned back at her, and everything seemed to be okay once again.

As they were entering the dining room, Katherine saw Robyn.

‘Hey, Robyn!' Katherine called.

Robyn stopped and turned around.

‘You okay?' Katherine asked as she approached. ‘You look a bit red.'

‘Oh, I'm fine,' Robyn said, self-consciously touching her face with the back of her hand. ‘It's just… erm… warm.'

‘We missed you at the discussion group.'

‘I decided to take a walk.'

Katherine nodded and suddenly remembered her manners. ‘This is Warwick,' she said. ‘Warwick, my friend, Robyn.'

The two of them shook hands.

‘Did the group go well?' Robyn asked.

‘It was brilliant!' Katherine said, telling Robyn about the great row that had ensued. ‘Poor Warwick here was quite embarrassed by it all. I'm afraid it's the same thing every time a bunch of women get together and Mr Darcy is mentioned.'

Robyn smiled.

‘Are you sure you're okay?' Katherine asked again, noticing that her friend was looking distinctly uneasy.

‘Yes,' she said, but then she sighed. ‘Well, no.'

‘What's wrong? Is it your friend?'

Robyn nodded. ‘I'm afraid he's threatened to drop by again.'

‘Oh, dear,' Katherine said. ‘Can you ignore your phone and hope for the best?'

‘You saw what happened the last time I tried to do that.'

‘Ah, yes. Well, maybe he'll entertain us all again tonight,' she said, making an attempt at humour.

‘That's exactly what I'm afraid of,' Robyn said.

***

Warwick realised that he had not responded well in the group discussion. In fact, his behaviour could have given him away completely, but he'd little suspected that a discussion about the books of Jane Austen would turn into a personal attack on him. He'd never experienced that before. As a writer with a hidden identity, he never put himself out into the world as Lorna Warwick and so had never faced that sort of criticism before. He'd had bad reviews, of course—every writer had to learn to take the bad along with the good—but Mrs Soames had been a whole new level of critic. Her words had been vicious and vitriolic. It had been a scary experience, and Warwick hadn't dared to defend himself for fear of being found out so he'd run away. It was the only option he thought safe.

But Katherine had definitely suspected something. He was quite sure that she didn't suspect anything close to the truth, but she still seemed a little out of sorts with him. He'd have to charm her again.

‘You know, there were some interesting points made in that group today,' he began.

‘Oh?'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘Everyone has their own idea about what makes the perfect novel and the perfect hero.'

Katherine nodded.

‘I wonder what it is about a certain novel that ticks the boxes for a reader. I mean, for me, a story can have the most fascinating plot in the world, but if the narrator's voice is dull, then the plot counts for nothing. For me, authorial charm is everything.'

‘Oh, my goodness!' Katherine said. ‘That's exactly what I've always thought.'

‘Really?' Warwick said, remembering the phrase Katherine had used in one of her letters. He was taking a risk by quoting it back to her but she was unlikely to remember it exactly and it seemed to be working for she was nodding and smiling as if he'd just said the most profound and intelligent thing in the whole world.

‘If the language chosen to tell the stories doesn't engage me, then I really don't care what happens in terms of plot or the characters,' she said.

‘They're just stories, aren't they?' Warwick said. ‘Stories anyone could tell with no skill or charm about them, and who would want to bother with such stories?'

‘That's exactly how I feel,' Katherine said, clattering her cutlery down on her plate and giving Warwick her full attention which he liked very much. ‘Language—especially English—is such a powerful tool and all too many writers abuse it by using bland words and appalling clichés.'

‘And that's part of the great charm of Austen, isn't it? Her warmth and her wit could carry you through any story,' Warwick said, really getting into his stride now. He was enjoying himself immensely, pushing all of Katherine's buttons and watching her soar with joy.

‘Well, it's certainly no accident that she's still being read two hundred years after her first book was published,' Katherine said, her face beaming as she talked about her favourite subject. ‘Few authors can hope for such success.'

‘Indeed,' Warwick said, clearing his throat. ‘I suppose it must be every author's dream.'

‘I often wonder what Jane did dream of when she wrote her books,' Katherine said. ‘Did she know that they would touch so many people and be read for hundreds of years after she'd put her pen down for the last time?'

‘This is what I think,' Warwick said, digging deep and trying to remember the letter he was thinking of. What was it Katherine had said? ‘I think she wrote the stories that meant the most to her. I think that's what every good writer does and that passion they feel communicates itself to every reader, irrespective of age or race or the century they're born in. It's timeless.'

Warwick watched in wonder as Katherine's beautiful mouth dropped open. Her dark eyes were sparkling with animation. She was glorious!

‘That's amazing,' she said. ‘That's
exactly
what I've always thought.'

Warwick nodded and tried his best to look nonchalant about the whole thing. She was hanging on his every word and he was enjoying it immensely.

‘You know,' he said, ‘it's wonderful talking to you about books. I feel like—I don't know—we have a connection.'

Katherine smiled sweetly but didn't say anything. It was time to push things even further, Warwick thought.

‘I feel I can really talk to you and, I must say, that's a new experience for me.' He shook his head, looking thoughtful. ‘I've had a bit of a disastrous past with women, I'm afraid. I've been let down a lot.' He paused, wondering if she'd jump in.

‘Me too,' she said quietly.

‘Really?' he said.

She nodded. ‘I'm afraid so.'

He sighed. ‘Then I apologise on behalf of my sex. I only hope that you haven't given up on all of us.'

She looked up at him. ‘It's funny you should say that. I was just telling my friend, Lor—telling a friend—that I was going to give men up. I think it's safer to stick to fictional men sometimes. But I was advised against it.'

‘Then you have a very sensible friend,' Warwick said with a smile. It was just what he'd wanted to hear.

***

It was shortly after Robyn had finished her main course that her phone vibrated in her handbag.

‘Oh!' Doris Norris, who was sitting to the right-hand side of Robyn, exclaimed loudly as the tiny handbag waltzed over her foot.

‘Sorry,' Robyn said.

‘Is that your vibrator?' Doris asked, and the whole table went silent for a moment, with everyone staring at Robyn. ‘Your vibrator phone?' she added with an innocent little smile.

‘Vibra
ting
,' Robyn said, her cheeks flushed yet again. It was probably best to leave the room, she thought, pushing her chair away from the table and making a hasty retreat. Dessert would have to be sacrificed.

She left the dining room and walked out into the hall. She didn't need to check her phone because she could see Jace's car from the window, parked at a peculiar angle right in the middle of the driveway, with no thought of aesthetics or etiquette. She watched him from the safety of the hall for a moment. He was tapping the steering wheel with an anxious hand. He didn't look happy.

Robyn took a deep breath and opened the door, walking down the steps and crunching across the gravel before knocking on his window.

‘Jesus!' he shouted, unwinding the window. ‘You scared me half to death.'

‘Did you want to see me or not?' Robyn said.

‘Of course I bloody want to see you! What sort of a question is that?'

‘Because you don't look very happy.'

‘I'm not very happy,' he said. ‘Get in the car, Robyn.'

‘I'm not leaving Purley.'

‘Just get in the car. I want to talk to you without the whole world watching,' he said, nodding to his rear view mirror. Robyn turned to see what he'd spotted, and she groaned when she saw the half dozen faces staring back at her from the dining room.