What Would Lizzy Bennet Do? (13 page)

‘No need. Stay on; you’ve handled him beautifully so far. I’ll take Lady.’

And so it was decided. At ten-thirty Hugh and Lizzy were mounted and ready to ride as well, and the three of them cantered out of the paddock and galloped across the fields, into the warm brilliance of an early June English morning.

***

‘What’s that place?’ Holly called out as she reined Thor in forty-five minutes later and shaded her eyes against the sun with one hand. ‘It’s very striking.’

A Georgian house, imposing but not half so large as Cleremont, overlooked a grassy slope that rose just ahead of them. It was fronted with white columns and rows of perfectly symmetrical windows that reflected the sun, with an identical wing on either side of the main house.

Hugh rode up beside her. ‘That’s Rosings,’ he said. ‘My godmother, Lady de Byrne, lives there.’

‘Should we go and visit?’ Lizzy said, and smirked. ‘Lady de B is always
such
fun.’

‘I ought to stop and see how she’s getting on,’ Hugh admitted. ‘She doesn’t have many visitors these days.’ He cast a glance skyward. ‘But it’s nearly noon, and we should start back before long if we don’t want to get caught in a storm later.’

‘There’s not a cloud in sight.’ Lizzy followed his gaze upwards and turned her horse towards Rosings. ‘Besides, the horses need a rest. I say we soldier on and go and visit the old dragon – I mean, Lady de Byrne.’ She grinned and gripped her reins. ‘Come on, you two – race you to Rosings!’

***

When Hugh and Holly and Lizzy were seated in Lady de Byrne’s drawing room and duly presented with glasses of iced tea by the aged butler, Holly glanced around her in mute awe. Everything, from the moiré-papered walls and silk-upholstered loveseats and chairs to the brocade drapes and rugs, was a variation of pink, and the furnishings consisted of white and gold French provincial pieces with delicately turned legs.

‘Does your godmother live here,’ Holly murmured as she looked at Hugh in amusement, ‘or Barbara Cartland?’

Lizzy leaned forward. ‘Don’t be fooled by all the pink, Holly,’ she warned in a low voice. ‘Lady de B is positively terrifying. She’ll probably want to quiz you now that you’re engaged to her godson.’

‘Quiz me?’ Holly’s fingers tightened around her glass of tea. ‘About what?’

‘About your antecedents, of course.’ Lizzy’s smile was mischievous. ‘And you’ll no doubt be found as wanting in that department as I am.’

‘It is very rude, young woman,’ an imperious voice called out from the doorway, ‘to whisper – and to gossip – in mixed company.’

‘Lady de Byrne,’ Hugh said, setting his glass aside in haste as he rose to his feet.

Holly and Lizzy scrambled to follow suit.

‘What have we here?’ Hugh’s godmother asked as she entered the drawing room. Her iron-grey hair was cut in a short and becoming style, but the pugnacious set to her jaw and upturned nose spoke of a strong will. She wore very little make-up but her eyes were as bright and shrewd as a jackdaw’s.

Holly half expected her to enter the room trailing a full-length bombazine gown, like Queen Victoria; but she wore an ordinary shirtdress of – what else? – pale pink cotton, belted around a trim waist.

Hugh made the introductions. ‘Tell me, Lady de Byrne,’ he said when he was done and they were all seated, ‘how are you getting on?’

‘I manage as well as can be expected,’ she replied. She lowered herself onto a loveseat. ‘Age makes one a prisoner. I cannot walk so often nor so far as I once did, and I seldom ride, as I fear a fall would break my hip and land me in hospital.’

‘Very sensible of you, Lady de Byrne,’ Lizzy offered.

‘And how is your father doing, Miss Bennet?’ Hugh’s godmother enquired. ‘What does he do to fill his days now that he no longer leads the village flock?’

‘He bakes,’ Lizzy replied. She exchanged a glance with Hugh and tried not to laugh. ‘Scones. Dozens of them, every day.’

‘My goodness.’ Lady de Byrne’s hand rose to her chest. ‘What does he do with all of them?’

‘He gives them away, mostly. The rest, I regret to say, we must endeavour to eat.’

Hugh’s godmother chuckled; the sound was rusty, like a pump scarcely used that needed priming. ‘Thank you for telling me. I shall consider myself warned if he visits bearing a basket of his baked goods.’

‘You look very well,’ Hugh said. ‘Country life agrees with you.’

She lifted her brow. ‘You’ve always had perfect manners, but a poor ability to lie. That, at least, hasn’t changed.’ She smiled as if to take the sting out of her words. ‘Thank you, Hugh. Now, then.’ She brought her bright gimlet eye to rest on Holly. ‘You’re Holly James, are you? I must say – you’re tolerably pretty. But your hair could do with a brush.’

Holly was far too surprised to summon a word in response. She heard Lizzy suppress a snort of laughter beside her. ‘We’ve been riding,’ she managed at last. ‘My hair’s in a tangle.’

‘That is why one normally ties one’s hair back,’ she observed with asperity. ‘Who are your people, pray tell?’ Lady de Byrne asked imperiously.

‘My… people?’ Holly echoed, her eyes widening. Who did this old battleaxe think she was, anyway? Lady Catherine de Burgh? ‘I was born in London, but my sister and I grew up in the Cotswolds, in Chipping Norton. My father owns fifty per cent of Dashwood and James department stores,’ she added with just a trace of smugness.
Take that, you old cow
.

‘A merchant,’ Hugh’s godmother sniffed. ‘How very disappointing. And what of your mother? Has she a title to recommend her?’

‘No,’ Holly shot back. ‘She has warmth and beauty and intelligence to recommend her.
And
a degree from Oxford.’

‘Well done, you,’ Lizzy whispered, and giggled.

‘Too much education is never a good thing in a woman. And tittering and whispering while others speak is most unbecoming in a young lady,’ Lady de Byrne added, fixing a gaze of disapproval fully on Elizabeth. ‘I see you’re still lacking in manners, Miss Bennet. Did your mother teach you nothing?’

A dull flush of anger mottled Lizzy’s cheek. ‘My mother taught me a great deal,’ she said, her words even. ‘She taught me how to use my cutlery at dinner, how to say “please” and “thank you”, and how to make a proper introduction. And,’ she added, ‘from a very young age, she taught me how to recognise snobbery and condescension.’

There was a small, uncomfortable silence.

‘Well. That’s me put in my place, has it not?’ Lady de Byrne said.

Although she spoke without inflection, there was a gleam of approval in her eye as she studied Lizzy, and Holly thought she recognised in the Bennet girl a more worthy adversary that she had perhaps initially supposed.

‘Tell me – how is your daughter, Lady Georgina?’ Hugh asked, and leaned forward.

‘I scarcely know. Imogen rarely speaks to me except in passing these days. She married a most unsuitable man in haste, as you know, and now,’ she added as she fixed her jackdaw’s eye on Holly, ‘she is repenting at leisure.’

Holly bristled. What was
that
supposed to mean?

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and with the sound Hugh stood. ‘I’m sorry to cut our visit short, Lady Georgina, but I’m afraid we must be on our way,’ he told her. ‘The forecast is calling for storms later today, and we really should head back to Cleremont now.’

‘Of course. Horses are notoriously skittish in thunderstorms,’ she said, and rose as well. ‘Thank you for visiting, and for introducing me to your fiancée.’

‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady de Byrne,’ Holly gritted. ‘I hope to see you again at our wedding.’

‘Oh, I daresay you’ll see me before then. I shall call on Lady Darcy very soon to discuss the impending nuptials. Good day, Miss James, Miss Bennet.’

‘Good day,’ the girls echoed.

Banks reappeared to show them out, and as Hugh remained behind to speak with his godmother for a moment, the girls followed him across the entrance hall and out the door. As it shut behind them, Holly let out a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding.

‘God, that was the most painful visit
ever
,’ she exclaimed.

‘I told you she’s a gargoyle,’ Lizzy agreed. ‘Even her daughter won’t speak to the old cow.’

‘Why? What happened?’ Holly asked, curious.

‘Well, you heard Lady de B – in her opinion, Imogen didn’t marry the right sort of man.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Not to gossip, but I heard she married a high-flying City stockbroker. She thought he had scads of money, and so did everyone else in London. But he had nothing but debt and only married her to get his hands on
her
money. She’s divorcing him but he’s taking her, as they say, to the cleaner’s. It’s all very ugly.’

‘How awful,’ Holly agreed. ‘Poor girl.’

‘Yes, I imagine she will be, once the dust settles. She’ll literally be
very
poor, and probably end up back under her mother’s thumb.’ Lizzy paused. ‘I hear footsteps. Hugh’s coming.’

The door opened, and Banks bowed as Hugh Darcy emerged and turned to give the butler a nod. ‘Thank you, Banks. Good day.’

‘Good day, sir, ladies.’

Hugh joined them as the door closed. Thunder grumbled again in the distance, and he moved past them down the front steps. ‘We’d best get going.’

‘You’ll get no argument from me,’ Lizzy said, and followed him down the steps. ‘Still – the sun’s out, and there’s only a couple of clouds in the sky.’

Several puffy white cumulus clouds looked down on them benignly. ‘Lizzy’s right. Looks pretty tranquil to me,’ Holly agreed. ‘Why the hurry to get back?’

‘We’re not that far from the coastline,’ Hugh reminded her. ‘Storms can blow up quickly off the bay.’

‘All right, then, let’s go.’ Lizzy untied Lady and swung up into the saddle. ‘Why don’t we make it interesting?’ she added as Hugh and Holly untied their mounts. ‘Who’s for a race back to Cleremont?’

‘A race?’ Holly eyed the bay, pawing now at the ground restlessly, with misgivings. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. Thor seems a tiny bit skittish. Maybe you should ride him back and let me take Lady.’

‘Oh, piffle! You’ll be fine. Just keep a firm grip on the reins,’ Elizabeth said over her shoulder as she turned the dapple grey. ‘And don’t forget to let him know you’re in charge, not him.’

‘Well…’ Holly caught her lower lip between her teeth as thunder growled again in the distance – sounding a bit closer now – and tensed as Thor whickered restively.

‘Come on,’ Lizzy coaxed. ‘A nice, brisk race – it’ll be fun. We’ll outrun the storm.’

‘We need to leave, Holly,’ Hugh called out with a trace of impatience from atop his horse. He cast a glance at the distant darkening of the sky. ‘There’s no time to dawdle. Let’s go.’

Praying that Thor would be as easy to handle going back as he’d been on the way to Rosings, Holly mounted and settled herself in the saddle, and with a deep breath gathered the reins and urged the bay into a gallop after the others.

Chapter 19

The wind whipped at the trees and the sky was an odd shade of green as Charlotte tucked her knees beneath her on the window seat and gazed outside.

Good thing she hadn’t snuck out to Cleremont today after all – this storm looked to be a bad one and she’d have been caught out in the fields on her way home and soaked through to the skin.

A smile curved her lips as she lost herself in imaginings. Perhaps Ciaran would’ve seen her, walking alone across the fields in the rain, and come to her rescue. She saw him swing her up into his arms and carry her off, just like he did with his leading ladies in films, wet and shivering (but with her waterproof mascara and long-last lip gloss firmly in place, and looking, of course, luminously beautiful), back to his trailer. Then he’d lock the door behind them and throw her onto the bed and make wild, passionate, Heathcliff-and-Cathy worthy love to her.

And she’d no longer be a bothersome virgin.

There was a knock on the door. ‘I’ve brought tea,’ her father announced as he came in and set the tray down on her desk.

‘Oh. Thanks, Daddy.’

His glance went to the window. ‘Looks like a corker of a storm brewing out there. I do hope my roses survive the winds.’ He frowned as the rain began pelting down outside. ‘Is your sister back yet?’

‘Lizzy?’ She turned away with a shrug. ‘No, I don’t think so. At least, I haven’t seen her. Where did she go?’

‘Riding, with Hugh and Holly, to Rosings.’

‘Oh! That’s not good. But I’m sure she’ll be home any minute.’

‘I hope so.’ Still frowning, Mr Bennet went to stand beside her and stared out apprehensively. ‘This is the sort of unpredictable weather that makes horses nervous. I do hope she and the others return soon.’

***

Holly, Hugh and Lizzy hadn’t ridden far, perhaps two miles, when the wind began to whip at the trees and the sky turned a peculiar shade of green. The rain held off until they reached the edge of the property. It pelted down, soaking them to the skin within seconds.

‘We should turn around and go back to Rosings,’ Hugh called out. ‘The horses are frightened. We’ll never make it back to Cleremont in time.’

The bay hunter shied uneasily beneath Holly, and she gripped the reins more tightly. She was terrified of lightning. ‘Can’t we just wait here under this tree until the storm ends?’

‘It’s not safe,’ Hugh said. ‘Waiting under a tree is the absolute worst thing one can do…’

He’d barely finished speaking when a jagged bolt of lightning streaked across the sky just to the left of them, hitting an alder tree with an earsplitting crack barely fifty yards away. Thor, already terrified, let out a whinny of fear and reared back on his hind legs; the minute his forelegs hit the ground, he bolted.

Holly barely heard Hugh’s and Lizzy’s shouts behind her, so focused was she on clutching the hunter’s mane and keeping her seat as Thor pelted across the field, his hooves eating up the ground with dizzying speed as he galloped towards Cleremont.

She whimpered and held on as tightly as she could, oblivious to the sting of the rain against her face or the wind whipping her hair; nothing mattered but keeping a grip on Thor’s mane and staying in the saddle and away from those churning hooves.