A Weekend with Mr. Darcy (13 page)

At last Dame Pamela took up her position again to read out the results. ‘In third place, with twenty-two points, is Darcy's Girls.'

Robyn gasped. ‘They stole that name from us!' she said, turning round and seeing that it was Mrs Soames's little gang.

‘I wouldn't be a bit surprised,' Katherine said, quite sure that Mrs Soames had probably been listening in on some of their answers to the questions too.

There was a round of applause as Dame Pamela motioned for Mrs Soames and her team to collect signed photographs of herself.

‘In second place, with twenty-seven points, is Purley Queens,' she said, and the group members—Rose, Roberta, and dear Doris Norris—made their way to collect their own signed photographs.

‘Great group name, ladies,' Dame Pamela said, greeting each of them with an air kiss before handing them their signed photographs.

‘And that just leaves the winners,' Dame Pamela said.

Robyn looked at Katherine and took a deep breath.

‘With an astonishing
thirty-five
points, it's Bennets and Bonnets!'

Robyn squealed with delight and practically leapt out of her chair. Katherine and Warwick stood up and they all hugged each other before going to receive a powdery kiss from Dame Pamela and collect their signed photographs and collector's editions of the six Jane Austen books.

‘They're gorgeous!' Robyn said with a sigh of delight as she was handed her prize. ‘Thank you.'

‘You're entirely welcome, my dear,' Dame Pamela said. ‘You are a true Janeite.'

Robyn was floating with happiness at having been on the winning team of the quiz and she wanted to take her much-prized new books up to her room. As she left the library, she was greeted by many congratulations and much cooing over the beautiful white-and-gold books, and even the snooty remark from Mrs Soames that the books were inferior to a set she'd bought recently couldn't touch Robyn.

Reaching her room, she thought about the two teammates she left downstairs. Everyone had been mingling and chattering away after the quiz—apart from Katherine and Warwick. Robyn wasn't sure what they were talking about, but it looked much too intimate and intense for a third person to join in.

She walked across to her window and saw a glorious full moon behind the cedar tree, casting enormous shadows across the front lawn. It was like a scene from a nineteenth-century poem, Robyn thought, and she knew she had to go outside and be a part of it.

In true Austen style, she grabbed a warm shawl to wrap around her shoulders and headed down the stairs and out the front door. When she rounded the side of the house, her soft shoes crunched lightly on the gravel. She could hear the chatter and laughter from the library and spied the scene through the window as she passed. There was Doris Norris, her face wonderfully red from the consumption of mulled wine, and Higgins the butler walking around the tables with a small silver tray laden with yet more chocolates. And there—in their quiet corner of the room—were Katherine and Warwick. Robyn watched them for a moment. It was like a silent film, with the hero and heroine about to divulge something very important.

‘Where's the volume switch when you need it?' Robyn said in frustration, but she didn't really need to hear what they were saying. She could see it in Warwick's eyes and the way he was holding Katherine's hand.

She turned away, feeling that she shouldn't be watching anymore—that she'd strayed somewhere she shouldn't be. Taking a deep breath of balmy night air and hugging her shawl around herself, she took the path under the great cedar tree, passing by the swimming pool that had been covered over since Dan's swim. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have a midnight swim, she thought. But then her mind strayed to places it shouldn't, and she thought it best that she move as far away from the pool as possible.

She entered the garden, her shoes sinking softly into the grass. The house was behind her now, and she turned to look at it. Most of the windows glowed with light, and it seemed to be smiling as if it were happy to be filled with people.

She walked across the lawn, found a bench to sit on and gazed up at the great fat moon, allowing her eyes to adjust until she could see the deep clear sky studded with stars. Living in Yorkshire, she was used to seeing the heavens unadulterated by light pollution. It was one of the joys of rural living, but the sight of it never failed to leave her awestruck.

She was wondering if she was looking at the same stars that Jane Austen would have once looked at, when she heard a voice.

‘Hello there,' it said softly from somewhere in the great hedge.

Robyn sat up abruptly, as if she'd been caught napping. ‘Dan?'

He stepped out of the shadows and the moonlight lit him up, casting his tall shadow across the lawn as he walked towards her. ‘I thought I'd find you in the garden tonight,' he said.

She looked up at him, curiosity in her eyes. ‘Did you?'

He nodded. ‘I had a feeling you'd like moonlit nights.'

‘You mean you thought I'd be a silly old romantic?'

He motioned to the bench and when she nodded, sat down beside her.

‘Moonlight was really important in Jane Austen's time,' she said. ‘They arranged events like dances for when the moon was at its brightest because it helped them travel at night. I don't think their roads were very good.'

‘No motorways lit up by lights,' Dan said.

‘Exactly,' Robyn said. ‘Imagine what it must have been like.'

‘I often go riding by moonlight,' Dan said.

‘Do you?'

He nodded.

‘But not tonight?'

‘No. I thought I'd miss you if I went out.'

She looked at him, surprised by his admission. What did he mean? But he didn't elaborate and seemed to be thinking about something else now.

‘Pammy loves these events,' he said. ‘She loves a house full of guests. It's what these places were built for, really. Although she loves having it to herself too, but not all the time. She's such a gregarious person and can't bear to be alone for long.'

‘It's certainly wonderful being a guest,' Robyn said. ‘I feel like I've stepped back in time. Like I might have arrived here by carriage in the moonlight.'

They sat for a few moments, each looking out across the silvery lawn towards the lake.

‘How are you getting on with
Pride and Prejudice
?' Robyn dared to ask.

Dan smiled.

‘You haven't read it, have you?' she said.

‘I have!' he said. ‘Just not all of it.'

‘And you won't, either, will you?'

He looked affronted. ‘What makes you say that? Because I'm a man?'

‘Yes,' Robyn said.

‘That, Miss Love, is outrageously sexist.'

‘But terribly true, I'm afraid.'

Dan laughed and then turned to look at her, his eyes fixing on hers. His face had a stern expression that was somewhat unnerving.

‘What?' Robyn said.

Dan's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at her. ‘I'm just wondering if you have a pair of fine eyes.'

Robyn's eyes—fine or not—widened with delight. ‘That's the phrase Darcy uses to describe Elizabeth's eyes! You
have
been reading it!'

‘Well, I told you I had. Don't sound so surprised.'

They sat in silence for a moment.

‘I'm sorry,' she said at last.

‘For what?'

‘Not believing you,' she said. ‘I guess I was judging you by—well, what I know of men.'

‘And that's not much?'

She stared at him. ‘Are you insulting me?'

‘No!' he said quickly. ‘Just making an observation—like you did about me.'

She smiled. ‘I suppose that's fair, then.'

‘What I mean is—' he stopped.

‘What do you mean?'

He shifted his legs in front of him. ‘Well, it seems to me like you've been with this man of yours for some time now. Am I right?'

Robyn adjusted her shawl around her shoulders. ‘How do you know that?'

He shrugged. ‘Just your body language around each other. If you don't mind my saying, you look as if you annoy the hell out of each other and have been doing so for some time now.'

Robyn was shocked by his audacity and stared at him openmouthed.

‘If you don't mind my saying,' he repeated.

‘And what if I do?' she asked.

‘Too late now,' he said with a small smile. ‘I've said it. Me and my big mouth.'

Robyn sat back on the bench and pouted.

‘Why are you with him?' Dan asked.

‘Why are you asking?'

‘Because I want to know,' he said simply. ‘You don't look suited. You don't look happy.'

‘It's not really any of your business,' she said.

‘Maybe not,' he said. ‘But I care about you.'

She looked at him. He was staring into the distance, and she stared at his profile which seemed to be carved out of marble in the moonlight—so perfectly formed. This man—this handsome stranger—cared about her.

‘Why?' she said, the word escaping her before she had time to check it.

He looked around, and his face was filled with surprise at her question. ‘Why? Because I like you. You're a romantic, like me, and you're as much in love with Purley as I am. You don't mind getting covered in dog hair, and you like the smell of horses as much as I do. And I like talking to you. I really like being with you. It feels…' he paused. ‘Right. Is that a good enough reason?'

***

Perhaps it was the second glass of mulled wine that did it but Katherine didn't think so. She knew what it was. It was Warwick—pure and simple. His charm, his mischievous eyes, that wicked smile, and the fact that she and he seemed perfectly attuned to each other. It was like Marianne and Willoughby in the heady early days.

Yes, but look what happened to them!
a little voice told her.

No, don't!
another little voice said—the voice she really wanted to hear.
Just enjoy it.

The two had been swapping secret little smiles for what seemed like an eternity. First he would look up and catch her attention, and it would seem casual, but then he would hold her gaze for a fraction longer than was necessary. She'd look away, enjoying the flirty flustery feeling that she was sure was colouring her face.

It wouldn't be long before she lifted her gaze again, and there he would be—looking right at her. Katherine felt like a teenager all over again. It was the same heady feeling that comes from knowing that the attraction you are feeling for somebody is returned two-fold. And it was not knowing what was going to happen next, like a great book that keeps you turning pages as you're held in suspense.

When Warwick leant across the table in the library and took her hand in his, Katherine's skin seemed to catch fire. How long it had been since somebody had touched her in that way! It was so simple a gesture, yet the message it sent was irrefutable.

‘I want to take you upstairs,' he said in a voice barely audible in the chatter around them, but he needn't have uttered a single word, for she understood him perfectly, and they got up to leave.

‘Won't you join us, dear?' Doris Norris asked them as they walked by her table. ‘We're making a team to play cards, just like in Jane Austen's time. You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?'

‘Katherine needs to lie down,' Warwick told Doris in a firm voice that was going to brook no opposition.

‘Oh, dear,' Doris said. ‘Not feeling well? Too much of that mulled wine, I expect. Wasn't it delicious?'

Katherine almost gasped at Warwick's lie and couldn't get out of the room fast enough. Once at the stairs, Warwick took her hand in his and they laughed their way to the top, and then things became serious.

‘You shouldn't have said that,' Katherine said, feigning outrage.

‘Why not? You didn't want to stay and play cards, did you? Because if you did, we can go back downstairs.' He held her gaze, and his eyes were dark and intense.

‘You're teasing me,' she said.

‘I'd never do that,' he said, the tiniest of smiles playing around his mouth. ‘Well, I might,' he added. ‘In the right circumstances.'

Still holding her hand, he let his fingers circle the delicate skin of her palm until she felt quite weak with desire, and then he led her to his bedroom, fishing his key out of his pocket and opening his door.

There were no lights on, but none were needed, for the curtains were open and moonlight spilled into the room, casting its magical silvery light onto the bed.

Warwick closed the door behind them and took a step towards her. ‘You're so beautiful,' he whispered to her, moving closer and holding her face in his hands.

They felt warm against her skin, and she closed her eyes as he bent down to kiss her.

Katherine shivered with pleasure at the touch of his lips.

‘I couldn't keep my eyes off you all evening,' he said, his fingers stroking the oh-so-soft part of her neck before trailing through her dark hair. ‘You've bewitched me.'

‘Warwick,' she said, his name sounding delicious on her tongue, ‘I didn't expect this. It's all happening so quickly.'

‘I know,' he said. ‘I know.'

‘This weekend—I—it's all so—so…' she struggled to find the right words and failed. Here she was, a doctor of literature, and she couldn't express herself. Well, not in words, anyway, so she kissed him again and allowed her hands to circle around to his shoulders. He felt strong and muscular. Was this from the rock climbing he'd been telling her about? If so, she was deeply appreciative of what the Peak District could do for a man's physique. She felt her pulse quicken when she touched him.

‘You're okay with this?' he whispered. ‘Because we can slow things down if you want. We don't have to hurry things. You're worth waiting for, Katherine.'

Katherine smiled. ‘You haven't had to wait that long for me,' she said.

‘I've waited my whole life for you,' he said.

She closed her eyes at his words. They weren't the most original in the world, she knew that, but nobody had ever said them to her before, so they sounded like the most exquisite poetry.

His lips hovered over hers, and she felt the warmth of his breath. Did she want to slow things down? Was that what she really wanted? She moved a fraction of an inch towards him and pressed her lips against his.

‘I'm okay with this,' she said.

‘And this?' Suddenly Warwick was kissing her neck.

‘Yes,' she gasped. ‘That's okay too.'

She was floating, and it was the best feeling in the world. It was—dare she think it—even better than a good book.

***

Robyn got up from the bench and walked across the grass. The moonlight seemed to be pulling her towards the lake, and she didn't try to fight it.

‘I'm sorry if I pried,' Dan said, following behind her. ‘You're not mad at me, are you?'

‘No, I'm not mad,' Robyn said. ‘It just feels strange.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘That you've been watching me, making these observations about my life.'

‘If you don't mind my saying, I think most of the people at this conference will have been making observations about your friend's performance the other night.'