A Weekend with Mr. Darcy (5 page)

Once Katherine climbed the steps and entered Purley, the naughty novels of Lorna Warwick would have to be forgotten as the weekend promised wall-to-wall Jane Austen. There was no room there for the imitators, the pastiches or the sequels, however good they might be. This was Purley Hall, and nothing but the original Jane Austen was accepted.

Katherine couldn't help feeling a little sad that Lorna wasn't going to be there. She felt quite sure she'd enjoy the experience. They'd talked so much about Austen's novels in their letters to each other and Katherine knew that Lorna's presence would have made the weekend an absolute treat. How much they would have to talk about! They would probably be like a couple of naughty students, chatting and giggling at the back of the lecture rooms, swapping comments and anecdotes.

I wonder what she looks like, Katherine thought as she entered the grand hall of Purley, marvelling at the double staircase and smelling the intoxicating lilies that sat in their vases like marble sculptures above the fireplace. It didn't really matter what she looked like—Katherine knew that, and yet she'd still Googled the name, only to come up with innumerable images of Lorna Warwick novels from around the world. There were no photographs of the writer—not even on her website. Anyway, she wasn't going to be there so what did it matter?

When Katherine looked around the room, one thing was certain. She might not have any idea of what Lorna looked like, but if she were attending the conference, Katherine was sure to recognise her immediately. It would be like old friends meeting up after years of separation.

As she made her way towards the crowded reception desk, she heard a voice, and a chill iced her spine. Oh, no, she thought as she turned around and saw the woman she'd dreaded seeing: Mrs Soames. They'd crossed paths before, and Katherine remembered all too well the woman who could cloud over the loveliest day just by entering a room. She was the kind of woman who found something to complain about in even the simplest of tasks. Nothing was beyond reproach. Whether it was a day's excursion or a cup of tea, Mrs Soames was bound to find something in it that was worth complaining about.

Katherine did her best to sneak by her as she was shouting some orders at a man who seemed to be crawling underneath her suitcase. She could barely make out a pair of long legs ending in smart brown leather shoes poking out from one side of the enormous suitcase and the top of a tousled head of hair at the other end.

‘What do you think you're doing?' Mrs Soames said. ‘
That's
not going to do any good!'

‘I think I can loosen it here,' the man's voice said. ‘Yes, that ought to do the trick.'

Katherine watched as the dark-haired man stood back up to full height, pushing the suitcase in her direction as he did so.

‘Ouch!' Katherine screamed. ‘My foot!'

‘Oh, my God! I'm so sorry,' the man said, turning around to look at her. ‘Are you okay?'

‘No, I'm not okay. You've run over my foot with a two tonne suitcase!'

‘I beg your pardon?' Mrs Soames said. ‘Oh, it's you, Dr Roberts.' There was no trace of concern in her voice for Katherine's poor foot.

Katherine bent down to rub her bruised toes.

‘May I help you?' the man asked, his bright eyes filled with concern.

‘You're meant to be helping
me
!' Mrs Soames said, her mouth set in a firm line.

‘Of course,' the man said. ‘Look, I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do—'

‘Just give me some space,' Katherine said, wincing as she hobbled away with her own suitcase.

***

Robyn took a deep breath and approached the young girl at the desk.

‘Hello. I'm here for the conference.'

‘What's your name?' the girl asked.

‘Robyn. Robyn Love.'

‘Oh! What a gorgeous name!'

Robyn gave a shy smile. ‘I'm usually told how strange it is.'

‘I've met stranger,' the girl said with a giggle, and Robyn wondered what she meant. ‘You've got a welcome pack?'

‘Yes, thank you.'

The girl looked down at her register. ‘You're in the cedar room. Up the stairs and turn right. It's at the end of the corridor.'

The cedar room, Robyn said to herself. She liked the sound of it.

‘Mark will help you with your bags.'

Robyn turned and came face to face with a young man who immediately took her suitcase from her.

‘Oh, just a minute, Mark,' the young girl said. ‘Here's Dr Roberts. She's just opposite, in the river room.'

Robyn turned to see a beautiful woman with dark hair swept up in a severe bun. She was wearing a crisp white shirt and a knee-length black skirt that was pencil-thin over her shapely legs.

‘Hello,' Dr Roberts said to the girl who handed her a badge. She then turned to smile at Robyn. ‘Please, call me Katherine,' she said, but then she winced.

‘Are you okay?' Robyn asked.

Katherine nodded. ‘Some idiot just wheeled a suitcase right over my foot. I fear I'll be hobbling the rest of today.'

‘Oh, dear!' Robyn said. ‘We'll have to find a handsome Willoughby to carry you up the stairs.'

Katherine laughed. ‘I think I can make it up myself.'

Mark picked up Katherine's suitcase and led the two women up the stairs.

‘Have you travelled far?' Katherine asked Robyn.

‘North Yorkshire.'

‘A bit farther than me, then. I've only come from Oxford.'

‘You're the lecturer, aren't you?' Robyn said excitedly. ‘I've read your book!'

‘For pleasure?'

‘Oh, yes!' Robyn enthused.

Katherine laughed. ‘I'm forgetting that everyone here enjoys Austen. I lecture at St Bridget's in Oxford, and I'm afraid the students there aren't all as enthusiastic about our Jane.'

‘It must be a hard job,' Robyn said, full of admiration for her new friend.

‘Some of the time,' she said, ‘but I'm teaching the subject I love and, of course, I get to come to events like this.'

Robyn nodded. ‘I wish I'd had the chance to go to study. I would have loved it. It's one of the reasons I like coming to things like this. I learn so much.'

Katherine smiled. ‘Learning is a lifelong pleasure.'

The two women climbed the left-hand staircase which joined the right one in the middle and led them up to the first floor where the bedrooms were.

‘This is such an amazing house,' Robyn said, gazing back down the stairs to the hall below, her feet making no sound on the plush red carpet.

‘This is called the Imperial Staircase,' Katherine told her. ‘One of the finest in the country.'

Robyn suddenly stopped.

‘What is it?' Katherine asked.

‘That man,' Robyn said, nodding to a dark-haired gentleman at the bottom of the stairs. ‘He's been watching us. Do you know him?'

Katherine's gaze followed Robyn's. ‘Oh! It's that dreadful man who attacked me with a suitcase.'

Robyn watched as the man turned away. ‘He's rather good-looking,' she said.

‘Well, if you like that obvious tall, dark, and handsome look,' Katherine said.

‘Tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt you?' Robyn asked with a grin.

Katherine's gaze met hers. ‘Something like that.'

They walked on, reaching the top of the stairs and turning right down a corridor lined with portraits.

‘We're at the end,' Mark said, stopping outside two bedroom doors. ‘Dr Roberts here,' he said, opening the door on the right. ‘Miss Love here,' he said, opening the door to the left. ‘Enjoy your stay at Purley.'

Robyn smiled, confident that she was going to do just that.

***

Warwick was mortified. Of all the people to run over with a suitcase, he had to go and pick Katherine. What a way to finally meet her. He recognised her instantly, of course, but the memory of the look she gave him was enough to make him give up and go home right then.

He helped Mrs Soames to her room with her suitcase and quickly returned to the hall, hoping to apologise to Katherine again and make some sort of amends, but she was on her way up the stairs by then with the young woman in the silver sandals.

He stood and watched, getting his first proper look at Katherine, and what he saw surprised him. What had happened to the long, luxurious hair he'd seen in the photograph of her online? Instead of cascading over her shoulders, it had been tugged into a tight bun, flattened and lifeless at the back of her head. He took in the business-smart outfit in black and white, and the author in him wanted to rewrite her, dressing her in a vibrant colour and unpinning her dark hair.

He watched as she talked to the girl with the corkscrew curls and followed their progress up the stairs. He hadn't meant to stare. That stance wasn't the heroic one he'd planned at all and he felt such a fool when he was spotted.

First impressions were important, he thought, thinking of the disastrous one that had befallen Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy, and Austen herself had realised the role they played when she'd given
Pride and Prejudice
the original title of
First Impressions
. Warwick groaned. He'd completely missed his opportunity to make a good first impression—
twice
. Still, he was an author and was quite used to rewriting plots that didn't work. He'd just have to wait for another opportunity and make sure he got it right next time.

The cedar room was absolutely perfect and Robyn was immediately in love with it, rushing over to the great sash window in excitement and sighing like a lovelorn heroine at the view that greeted her. The perfect emerald lawn stretched before her, and the cedar tree stood sentinel-like to her right.

She looked at the double bed and felt guilty that it was for her and her alone and that Jace would be sleeping on his own, but that certainly wasn't her fault. She hadn't asked him to chauffeur her to and from the conference, had she? It was his fault if he was going to be stuck in a bed and breakfast bored out of his mind for the next few days. Robyn was quite determined that he wasn't going to ruin her weekend. She'd looked forward to it for too long.

Flinging open her suitcase and finding her hairbrush, she entered the bathroom and did a quick repair job on her travel-worn tresses. She'd worn her hair long all her life and couldn't imagine it being any other way. It was much admired and Jace loved it but it did take some upkeep, and Robyn often wondered what life would be like with a nice neat bob.

She emptied her handbag of everything she didn't need, which included two paperbacks and a bumper packet of mints, then left her room.

She was halfway down the grand staircase when she caught the eye of Katherine in the hall.

‘Robyn!' she called. ‘Come and sit with me.'

Robyn joined her in the hall and Katherine linked her arm through hers.

‘Now, we're just like a pair of Austen heroines, aren't we?' she said.

Robyn smiled and the two of them walked to the back of the house and entered the room known as the Yellow Drawing Room. It was filled with mellow afternoon light and the windows looked out over the gardens down to the river.

‘I have this view from my window,' Katherine boasted.

‘It's beautiful here,' Robyn said. ‘I don't think I'll ever want to leave.'

‘I know,' Katherine said. ‘I always feel like that too. It's part of the magic of the conference. They know you'll be back year after year. It gets ahold of you and never lets you go.'

There were three enormous sofas in the room and lots of armchairs in brilliant colours and filling in the gaps some wooden chairs had been placed to accommodate all the guests.

‘How many people are here?' Robyn asked.

‘There are usually twenty to thirty, but not everyone stays in the hall. There are only enough rooms here for about eighteen. Everyone else stays in nearby B and Bs.'

Robyn swallowed as she thought of Jace again. She wished she could stop doing that.

‘Let's get a cup of tea,' Katherine said, bringing Robyn back into the Austensian world of Purley that was filled with china tea cups rather than the Jace world which was filled with beer cans.

Taking a cup of tea and a piece of sugary shortbread, they sat on a big squashy sofa the colour of lemons.

‘Hey, there's that suitcase man again,' Robyn said, nodding towards the door as the dark-haired gentleman walked in.

‘Oh,' Katherine said.

‘He
is
very handsome, don't you think?'

‘He's very clumsy,' Katherine replied, turning away.

Robyn smiled. She could feel a romance coming on; she was quite sure of it. ‘He's so fit-looking,' she persisted. ‘But not in that awful I-spend-all-my time-in-a-gym way. He looks more like an athlete or something. Nice shirt too, don't you think?'

‘I'm doing my best
not
to think about him,' Katherine said.

Just as Robyn was contemplating an Austen-style declaration of love from the dark-haired gentleman to her new friend, a gentleman in a scarlet waistcoat entered the room, stood in front of the window and cleared his throat, instantly hushing the room.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to welcome you to Purley Hall and to the Jane Austen Conference. Please put your hands together to welcome your hostess, Dame Pamela Harcourt.'

A wondrous expectant hush befell the room, quickly followed by a riotous round of applause as all eyes turned to the door and the actress made her entrance.

Robyn felt a strange fluttery feeling in her chest. She was actually nervous. She'd been a fan of Dame Pamela's for years. In her youth, she had played an enchanting Elizabeth Bennet and a dazzlingly wild Marianne in TV adaptations, and now she struck terror into the heart of viewers with her portrayals of Fanny Ferrars Dashwood and Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Robyn's head swivelled towards the door and her mouth dropped open as Dame Pamela made her entrance in a sweep of lilac. Her silvery hair had been swept up in a full meringue style that was pure theatre, and her smile radiated warmth and pleasure at being the centre of attention.

‘My dears!' she announced, her hands raised and sparkly with diamond rings. ‘My
wonderful
guests! Welcome to my home which, for this all-too-brief space of time, is your home too. I can't tell you how much I look forward to this weekend every year, and each year is invariably better than the last so welcome to the best-ever Jane Austen Conference yet!'

There was another round of applause and Dame Pamela smiled and began to mingle.

***

Warwick didn't stay for the mingling.

Idiot! Imbecile! Stupid, stupid man!

He didn't spare the curses as he left the Yellow Drawing Room. What had happened to him? Hadn't he been going to recreate the role of hero and stride across the room to introduce himself to Katherine? If so, what had happened? Well, once he'd caught sight of her again, he'd frozen. For ages he'd gazed at the beautiful curve of her neck which, as her hair was still swept up into a bun, had been left exposed for the express purpose of tormenting men. Then she'd turned round and caught him staring.

Like a ridiculous school boy,
he said to himself, leaving the scene of his crime and flying up the stairs as fast as he could.
What must she think of me? She must think I'm a jerk to be avoided at all costs, and I've not even spoken to her yet.

When he reached his room, he slammed the door behind him. What was he going to do? What would a hero do, he thought. What would Darcy do? Write a letter, probably, but he couldn't do that. For one thing, Katherine would recognise his handwriting. Anyway, there wasn't time.

He could try explaining himself, but what was there to explain? That he was some sort of neck pervert? She'd have him arrested. No, there was only one way to deal with this, which was to pretend that the whole staring thing hadn't happened at all, rather like Mrs Bennet's sudden memory lapse at the bad behaviour of Lydia once she found out that her daughter was married.

Yes, he thought, the new improved Warwick would banish any bad memories of the old one.