What Would Lizzy Bennet Do? (26 page)

‘Really?’ She looked surprised but pleased. ‘And do call me Lady Sarah… Holly. Surely there’s no need for us to be so formal?’

She longed to point out that it was Lady Darcy who’d insisted on the formality from the first instant they’d met, but refrained.

‘Come into the drawing room,’ Hugh’s mother went on, and drew her arm through Holly’s. ‘I’ll tell you about the time Hugh tied palm fronds to his arms, and tried to fly off the stable roof…’

***

Emma was just turning onto Litchfield Road to take them home when Lizzy spotted a dusty green Range Rover, a trailer full of sheep hitched behind it, coming towards them.

She leaned forward in the front seat. ‘Isn’t that Lord Darcy?’

‘It is,’ Emma agreed, and slowed the Mini. ‘Hugh’s with him. And a trailer filled with sheep.’

‘Eew.’ Charli wrinkled her nose. ‘I can smell them. The sheep,’ she added with a giggle, ‘not the Darcys.’

Lizzy wound down the window – Mr Bennet’s Mini was not equipped with power windows, alas – as the two vehicles drew alongside each other. ‘Hello. Bought some sheep, did you?’

Hugh nodded. ‘A dozen Derbyshire Gritstones. We’re just on the way home to unload them.’

‘They’re a much-needed addition to the herd,’ Lord Darcy added. ‘Now if you’ll excuse us, we’d best get back to Cleremont and unload these animals before dinner.’

‘We won’t keep you, then.’ Lizzy gave Hugh a tentative smile. ‘We’ll see you later, I hope?’

‘I expect I’ll see you at the regatta on Saturday,’ he said, and smiled back. ‘All of you,’ he added. ‘Goodbye Lizzy, ladies.’

‘Goodbye,’ they chorused and, with a wave, Emma put the car in gear and drove forward.

‘Bye, Hugh.’ With another smile, Lizzy wound her window up and sank back against her seat, and wished fervently that Saturday would hurry up and arrive.

***

‘We just got back.’

Holly looked up from her dressing table to see Hugh standing in her bedroom doorway with a weekend bag in his hand. Despite the weariness etched on his face, the sight of his thick, dark hair and his tentative but endearing smile swamped her with happiness.

‘Hugh!’ she exclaimed, and launched herself at him. ‘I missed you, so much.’

Laughing, he dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Not half so much as I missed you, believe me. It’s been a very long day.’

She kissed him, beyond hungry to feel his lips on hers, then drew back after a moment and wrinkled her nose. ‘You smell like sheep.’

‘The hazards of four hours spent travelling with a trailer full of Gritstones, I’m afraid.’

‘Well, dinner’s soon. You’d best go and take a shower. Unless,’ Holly added, and lifted her brow suggestively, ‘you’d rather take one here, with me…?’

‘You know how much I’d love that.’ His smile held regret. ‘But there’s no time, unfortunately. Perhaps tomorrow?’

She nodded, and held his face in both hands as she kissed him once again. ‘And don’t think I’ll forget. I won’t.’

He picked up his bag and turned to go, then paused. ‘Oh – wait. I brought you something back. A present.’

‘Ooh, how exciting! What is it?’

‘Well, I can’t tell you, can I, or it won’t be a surprise. Hold on, let me just find it.’

Holly all but danced with impatience. ‘Do hurry. You know how I hate to wait.’

Hugh bent down and rummaged in the side pouches of his travel bag until he unearthed a small package wrapped in silver foil and tied with a length of curly lavender ribbon, then straightened and held it out. ‘For you.’

‘Thanks. I can hardly wait to unwrap it.’ She took the present and tore it open. ‘Oh, Hugh… it’s adorable!’ She held up a silver bracelet with a single charm dangling from it – a tiny, black-faced sheep. ‘I
love
it!’

‘I thought it might go some way to making you a little less cross with me for leaving so suddenly.’

‘I
was
cross,’ she agreed, and slid her arms around his neck. ‘Really cross. But I’m not, now.’

His dark eyes studied hers. ‘And am I forgiven?’

In answer, she kissed him again, with an enthusiasm that left no doubt as to her feelings or her capacity for forgiveness. ‘You’re
completely
forgiven.’

As he left to go and get ready for dinner, Holly decided her questions about Jacinta, and his former engagement to the famous model, could wait until later.

***

‘Did you girls find yourselves some swimsuits in Longbourne?’ Mr Bennet enquired that night at dinner.

Emma nodded and handed him a plate of sliced roast chicken with a generous helping of peas and roasted potatoes. ‘We did. And I can honestly say that I think even you won’t find fault with our choices.’ She glanced at Charlotte with an upraised brow. ‘Of course, Charli wanted to buy an orange bikini.’

‘You’re such a tattletale,’ her sister shot back. ‘I didn’t buy it, did I?’

‘Only because I said you mightn’t.’

‘Whatever.’ Charli glared at her.

‘Now, girls,’ Mr Bennet interjected, ‘enough of that. Tell me, Charlotte – what sort of a swimsuit did you end up getting in lieu of the…’ he reddened slightly. ‘In lieu of the orange bikini?’

‘A red tank with a racerback,’ she answered, and pursed her lips. ‘It’s not half bad. But it wasn’t what I wanted.’

‘If it were up to
you
,’ Lizzy observed, ‘you’d wear a thong and pasties.’

‘No,’ Charli said sweetly. ‘That’d be you, Lizzy, dressing – or
un
dressing, should I say – for the love of your life, Hugh Darcy.’ She feigned swooning.

Lizzy scowled and dropped her fork with a clatter. ‘Do shut up, Charli.’

‘Or what?’ her sister challenged, spoiling for an argument.

‘Or I’ll tell Daddy what you’ve been doing.’

A sudden silence descended on the table. The clink of forks and knives, the rise and fall of conversation, the muted jangle of Emma’s charm bracelet – all came to an abrupt stop at Lizzy’s words.

‘What do you mean?’ Charli locked eyes with her sister.

‘Yes,’ Mr Bennet said, his words measured as he regarded his middle daughter. ‘What, exactly,
do
you mean, Elizabeth? What has Charlotte been up to that I don’t know about?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing, really,’ Lizzy said, letting the moment stretch out long enough to cause her youngest sister the maximum amount of panic. ‘Only, she buys up every one of those trashy tabloids whenever we’re at the newsagent’s in Longbourne – the ones you don’t like her to read. She spends every bit of her allowance on gossip, and fold-out posters of boy bands with no shirts and staples in their navels.’

Charlotte cast her a slit-eyed glare.

‘Well,’ their father said, and reached for the basket of roll, ‘I can think of worse things. You liked the very same things when you were Charli’s age. I seem to remember posters of footballers papering your own walls.’

Lizzy shrugged. ‘Yes, it’s true. However,’ she added with a pointed glance at her sister, ‘then I grew up, and put all of that childish stuff behind me.’

‘Not all of it.’ Charli cut into her chicken. ‘You still have a poster of Beckham in your closet. I’ve seen it.’

‘Guilty as charged. Pass the peas, please.’

As Emma handed her the bowl and Lizzy helped herself to more peas, Mr Bennet pushed his plate away. ‘I’m finished. That was an excellent dinner, Emma. Thank you.’ He thrust his chair back and stood. ‘Now, if you girls will excuse me, I have a phone call to make.’

‘To Araminta?’ Lizzy enquired.

‘Possibly. I’ll see you all later.’

And with that, Mr Bennet look his leave and went into his study to make his call in private, shutting the door.

‘Well, I need to go and soak the roasting pan,’ Emma said, and stood up as well. ‘Or it’ll never come clean. When you’re finished, come and help clean up. It’s the least you can do since neither of you offered to help with dinner.’

‘Okay.’ Lizzy finished her milk. ‘We’ll be in soon.’

The minute Emma left, Charlotte leaned forward and hissed, ‘You little snitch! You nearly told Daddy
everything
, didn’t you?’

‘I did.’ She regarded her sister calmly. ‘Say one more word about Darcy,’ Lizzy promised, ‘and he’ll know about more than just your trashy reading habits. I’ll make sure he knows you’ve been sneaking out to see Ciaran Duncan, too.’

‘I’m not sneaking out to see him any more. And that’s blackmail!’

‘Call it whatever you like.’ Lizzy threw her napkin down. ‘If it means I don’t have to listen to any more of your taunts or teasing about my feelings for Hugh Darcy, it’s well worth a bit of blackmail.’

They glared at each other until Charlotte scraped her chair back and stood to leave.

‘Do you want to wash, or rinse?’ Lizzy asked.

‘Rinse,’ Charli snapped, and flounced out of the dining room.

Chapter 32

‘Please relay my compliments to the chef, Higgins. The lemon chicken is excellent tonight,’ Lord Darcy pronounced.

The butler inclined his head. ‘He’ll be very pleased to hear it, your lordship.’

‘Well, Richard,’ Lady Sarah said as Higgins left and she cut into her grilled asparagus, ‘don’t keep us in suspense. Was the trip to Derbyshire successful?’

‘Indeed it was. We’ve added twelve sheep to the herd,’ he replied. ‘Six tups and six ewes.’

‘Tups?’ Holly said.

‘Rams,’ Hugh explained. ‘For breeding. Gritstones are bred to be resilient and tough, but for all that, they’re at risk.’

‘Oh? Why is that?’

‘Low numbers mean that an outbreak of disease – such as hoof and mouth – put them at greater risk than more numerous breeds.’

‘I didn’t know,’ Holly said, and laid her fork and knife aside. ‘It seems I have a lot to learn.’

‘I did warn you,’ Lady Sarah said, and sipped her Sauvignon Blanc with a complacent smile. ‘There’s more to having a title – and running a stately home – than heading up the church flower rota or hosting the annual hunt. And one has certain responsibilities to help those less fortunate, as well.’

Although the conversation moved on to other things – Saturday’s regatta race being the main topic – Holly was preoccupied. There was so much to learn, so much she didn’t know, that she despaired of ever getting up to speed.

She wasn’t much of a horsewoman, she didn’t know the first thing about sailing or hosting a charity ball or a hunt, she’d never managed a phalanx of servants (or a phalanx of anything, for that matter), and all she knew about sheep was that they produced wool, and… lamb chops.

‘You’ve gone quiet.’ Hugh, sitting beside her, spoke in a low voice as his father and Harry debated the relative merits of sailing versus power boating. ‘You didn’t let my mother’s comments about responsibility and
noblesse oblige
earlier upset you, I hope.’

She hesitated. ‘Perhaps, a little. She’s right, Hugh – I’m not remotely prepared to be your wife or to be the next Lady Darcy. I don’t know anything about running a stately home, or breeding sheep, or riding to hounds, or – or anything about aristocratic protocol. I scarcely know the different between a viscount and a baron, or an earl and a marquess. I’ll make a total muck of everything.’

‘You’ll learn.’ He reached up and covered her hand with his. ‘When she married my father, my mother didn’t know any of those things, either. But she learned, and she muddled through.’ Hugh smiled. ‘And you will, too.’

Although she returned his smile and squeezed his hand, Holly wasn’t convinced.

‘Are you and Holly going to the regatta ball on Sunday night?’ Lady Darcy asked Hugh as the dinner plates were removed. ‘I hear the committee’s really splashed out this year. The theme is “Neptune’s Triumph”. Oh – and Lady de Byrne will be there,’ she added, and turned to her husband. ‘She’s bringing Imogen.’

‘All the more reason to avoid the ball,’ he muttered.

‘Richard!’ Hugh’s mother regarded him in mild shock. ‘Lady Georgina is Hugh’s godmother, and Imogen is her daughter.’

‘I don’t need reminding of either of those facts, thank you very much.’

‘I haven’t asked Holly yet if she’d like to go,’ Hugh said, and glanced at her. ‘I’ll warn you, these things are usually excruciatingly dull.’

‘The worst,’ Harry agreed, and grimaced. ‘But attendance is pretty much
de rigueur
for us Darcys.’

‘I think it sounds like fun,’ Holly said. ‘I didn’t pack a ball gown, though.’

‘Oh, I’m sure we can find you something to wear.’ Lady Sarah eyed her. ‘You’re about the same size as Phoebe; there’s bound to be something in her closet upstairs. Or perhaps,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘you and I could go into town and shop for a gown. Make a day of it.’

Holly grabbed her water goblet and took a fortifying sip. She’d rather have a full Brazilian wax without benefit of aspirin than spend an entire day shopping with Hugh’s mother. ‘Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary…’ she began.

‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ Hugh agreed, and leaned over to give her a brief kiss. ‘I’ll give you my card and you can buy whatever you need. Shoes, gown, a wrap – the evenings get a bit chilly in Longbourne when the breeze comes in off the harbour.’

‘How thoughtful.’ Holly’s smile was more of a grimace. ‘Thanks
so
much, darling.’

‘We’ll go tomorrow,’ Lady Darcy decided, ‘if that suits your plans, Holly?’

‘Oh, erm… perfectly. I look forward to it.’

After all, Holly thought resignedly as Higgins arrived with dessert – Peach Melba with raspberry sauce – there was really nothing more to be said, was there?

***

The next morning Lady Darcy slotted the Aston into a spot along the Longbourne high street and shut off the engine.

‘Here we are,’ she announced as she reached back for her handbag. ‘Off we go to – what is it they say? – shop till we drop.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Holly said, and climbed out of the car with a smile plastered to her face. What she really meant was
I can’t wait until this bloody day is over.

But, needs must. She needed a proper ball gown, so she had to endure the shopping trip from hell with Hugh’s mother to get it. She eyed the high street with misgivings.

There wasn’t a Zara or a Topshop to be seen.

Her gaze came to rest on the only dress shop, its window featuring clothing that looked like it had been there since the Second World War – the Longbourne Dress Shoppe – and her heart sank.