Katie Oliver - What Would Lizzy Bennet Do?

The profusion of elegantly wrapped wedding gifts piled on the dining room table had to be removed and returned. Mr Bennet took delivery of the wedding cake that morning (it being too late to cancel) and whisked it away to a local hospital before Emma might see it.

It had been a horrible, trying time.

‘I have plenty of compassion. But right now, I’m tired of being understanding,’ Lizzy grumbled. ‘I was in a good mood when I came home, and now it’s ruined. Why must we always jolly Emma up? It’s been almost a year. She needs to move on.’

‘There isn’t a timetable for these things, Elizabeth,’ her father reproached her. He smiled. ‘I know it isn’t your strong suit, but you must try and be patient.’

Lizzy leaned forward. ‘Bother being patient. She’s miserable, and wants everyone else around her to be miserable, too. Well,’ she added as she got up, ‘I refuse to coddle my sister any longer. I’m done being nice to Emma. She isn’t the only person who’s ever had her heart broken, after all.’

And she got up and stalked back into the house.

***

Hugh adjusted his tie and regarded himself critically in the mirror. ‘Will I do?’ he asked as he turned to Holly.

She smiled, her gaze taking in his dinner jacket and his dark, uncertain gaze, and slid her arms around his neck. ‘You’ll do, Mr Darcy.’ She kissed him and, after a few, blissful moments, sighed against his lips. ‘Let’s stay here and you can ravish me. We’ll start on your bed, then we’ll move to the rug, and then that nice, cushioned window seat over there…’

‘You sound like a choreographer.’

‘Come on, Hugh,’ she coaxed. ‘Let’s skip dinner with your family and stay here. We’ll tell them we’re tired after the trip down from London.’ She began to nibble his earlobe.

‘Stop it, Holly,’ he warned, only half joking as he pulled away, ‘or we’ll be late to dinner.’

‘And we can’t have that , can we?’

If he noticed the trace of irritation in her voice, he gave no sign. ‘I’m sure my mother’s had the servants pull out all the stops for you tonight.’

‘I’m sure,’ Holly agreed, and toyed with his lapel. ‘Twelve courses, finger bowls and ice sculptures, no doubt. Only…’

He caught her hand in his and regarded her with a questioning expression. ‘Only what?’

‘Why can’t we share a room?’ she asked. ‘It’s barbaric that you’re here in the east wing, and I’m stuck in the west.’

He kissed her on the cheek and turned back to the mirror to adjust his tie once again. ‘It’s a matter of propriety, I suppose, and keeping my mother happy, that’s all. I don’t think my father cares a jot what we get up to.’ He raised his brow at her reflection behind him in the mirror. ‘And it’s not like you can’t sneak out and slip into my room in the middle of the night, you know.’

‘Ha! Like I’d ever find my way from there to here, and in the dark,’ she grumbled. ‘I’d end up in the scullery, or something.’

‘Then I’d go and find you.’

Holly came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. ‘Your mother hates me,’ she sighed, and rested her chin on his shoulder. ‘She put me in the west wing deliberately, to keep us apart. And she still calls me “Miss James”.’

‘These things take time. Wait until I make the announcement that we’re engaged; then she’ll warm up to you. Besides…’ He paused and turned around to take her back into his arms. ‘It might do us good to be separated for the duration of our visit.’ He leaned closer and nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear. ‘When we do finally manage to get together, it’ll make things that much more exciting. Incendiary, even.’

‘Hmmph.’ Holly wasn’t convinced. ‘Fifty Shades of Longing, you mean?’

He rested his forehead against hers. ‘Exactly,’ he murmured. ‘Although I don’t know if I can stand the wait.’

‘I know I can’t.’ The scent of his aftershave – something rare and expensive by Creed, no doubt – was making her long to tear his clothes off, right now.

‘I love you, Holly,’ Darcy said, his eyes serious on hers. ‘I want my family to fall in love with you, too. And they will do.’

‘Come on, then,’ Holly sighed, resigned to their imposed celibacy and the long evening ahead. ‘It’s time we went downstairs and joined the others.’

***

The dining room table at Cleremont was so long that it could’ve easily doubled as an airplane runway, Holly reflected as she took a seat in the eighteenth-century chair Hugh held out for her.

She glimpsed more tall windows, more claw-footed chairs and sideboards, more enormous (and no doubt priceless) paintings hung on walls that were painted a deep Chinese red.

‘Do the film crew stay here in the house while they’re filming?’ she asked, and reached out for her water glass.

‘Oh, dear me, no.’ Sarah let out a shocked little laugh. ‘They stay in trailers behind the estate office, or at the local hotel. They aren’t allowed to move so much as a stick of furniture when they film here, not without permission. And certainly, no eating,’ she added with a shudder. ‘Too many antiquities, you understand.’

She smiled at Holly in polite condescension, making it plain that she didn’t expect someone as middle class as the James girl to understand, at all.

‘Do you remember the Sheraton table?’ Lord Darcy said to his wife. He glanced at Holly. ‘Several years ago, when they were here at Cleremont filming Tess of the d’Urbervilles , a costume assistant decided to iron a maid’s apron… and used an eighteenth-century gaming table built by Thomas Sheraton to do it. The surface was ruined.’

‘No, Richard,’ his wife corrected, ‘you’re mistaken. I’m sure it was Far from the Madding Crowd , and you’re thinking of the demi-lune Hepplewhite card table.’

He folded his napkin across his lap with deliberate motions. ‘I’m not mistaken. I may be getting on a bit but I’m hardly senile. It was Tess and it was the bloody Sheraton.’

A frosty silence descended on the table. Holly glanced across at Hugh in mild alarm.

‘I’d like to make an announcement, if I may,’ Hugh said quickly, and reached out for his glass of wine.

‘Oh, yes, your announcement,’ Harry said, and leaned forward in anticipation. ‘Wait, don’t tell us! You’ve decided you don’t want the title when Dad pops his clogs after all, and instead plan to hunt big game. And so you’ve come home to announce that you’re giving Cleremont over to me and you’re leaving for Africa,’ he joked. ‘With Holly, of course.’

‘Harry, really,’ his mother reproved. ‘This isn’t the time or the place for your little jokes.’

‘Sorry, but I’ve no plans for big game hunting in my future.’ Hugh smiled at Holly, seated next to him, and lifted his glass. ‘I’ve already landed the most spectacular prize any man could possibly want,’ he added.

Holly could have pointed out that perhaps referring to her as a ‘prize’ in this day and age was a bit – well, sexist – but she remained silent as Hugh went on with his announcement.

‘I met Holly last summer while I was working at Dashwood and James – the department stores her father, Alastair, owns,’ he added. He glanced at Holly with a wry smile. ‘It wasn’t exactly love at first sight, was it, darling?’

‘No,’ she agreed, and smiled back at him. ‘At first I thought Hugh was a bit stuffy. Not to mention incredibly opinionated. I was engaged – briefly – to Ciaran Duncan, the film star. Hugh tried to warn me away from him,’ she added, and took a fortifying sip of wine. ‘More than once, in fact. But of course I didn’t listen, until it was nearly too late.’