Читать книгу What Would Lizzy Bennet Do? - Katie Oliver - Страница 18

Chapter 8

Sunday morning, for the Darcy family, meant church.

After a light breakfast of eggs, toast and tea, Lord and Lady Darcy rose from the table and made their way to the dining room door.

‘Don’t be long, darling,’ his mother reminded Hugh. ‘You know Father Crowley frowns on latecomers.’

‘We’ll be along shortly.’ He glanced at Holly, who looked at him with a trace of apprehension, and reached out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Harry pushed himself away from the table as well. ‘Gotta go. See you later.’

‘You’re welcome to ride with us to St Mark’s if you like,’ Hugh offered.

‘Thanks, but I need to get to church a few minutes early. I promised Father C I’d help with the Offertory this morning.’

‘I never pegged you for the church-going type.’ Holly set her coffee cup down.

‘I’m full of surprises.’

‘So I’m learning.’

‘Come along, then, darling,’ Lady Darcy urged. Harry followed them into the entrance hall and out the front door.

Holly couldn’t help but notice, as she laid her napkin aside and pushed her own chair back to leave, that Harry, normally so quick with a joke or a clever comment, hadn’t said above a dozen words during breakfast.

‘What’s up with Harry?’ she asked as she followed Hugh out to the hire car. ‘He didn’t say much beyond “good morning”, “please pass the butter”, and “see you later”.’

Hugh held the door open and waited as she slid inside, then went round and got behind the wheel. ‘I’ve no idea. He seemed fine to me, just quiet.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s probably nothing. Never mind.’

They arrived at St Mark’s a short time later, and Holly studied the gothic stone edifice as she emerged from the car and waited for Hugh to park the Mercedes. Ancient trees shaded a cemetery on the far side of the church, its gravestones enclosed within an iron fence; the car park where she stood took up the opposite side.

Hugh appeared beside her a few minutes later and held out his arm. ‘Ready?’

She nodded as she took it, and confessed, ‘I haven’t been to church in a very long time, I’m afraid.’

He laid his hand atop hers. ‘Nor have I,’ he admitted. ‘Not since the last time I was at Cleremont.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Promise you won’t tell my parents.’

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

Hugh led Holly down the aisle to the Darcy family pew in the front of the church, and as she took her place at the far end with her fiancé and his family, she studied her surroundings.

Tall windows lined the length of the nave, leading up to an altar fronted by fresh-cut flowers and bracketed on either side by a pair of candles on tall candlesticks. A pulpit of Devon marble stood to the left, with the chancel and choir on the right. The scent of incense from an earlier service lingered on the air.

Over the rustling of pages and the clearing of throats, Holly heard footsteps advancing down the aisle. She glanced back to see the Bennet family as they filed in – she knew, because she recognised Emma – each kneeling briefly in turn before they entered the pew across the aisle from the Darcys.

She studied them with covert curiosity. Mr Bennet was stout, with reading spectacles perched on the end of his nose and a pleasant if unremarkable face; his daughters, however, were another matter. They sat alongside him on the pew like three beautiful swans.

Emma, the girl with the dark hair whom she’d met only yesterday, sat next to her father. As if sensing Holly’s eyes on her, the eldest Bennet girl met her gaze and nodded slightly, then turned her attention back to the Book of Common Prayer in her hands.

A blonde, fidgety girl in trendy clothes, who Holly judged to be the youngest daughter, sat beside Emma. Her face was partly hidden beneath the brim of a stylish navy blue hat, and she made no secret of her boredom or of her desire to be elsewhere.

But it was the middle Bennet girl, the one sitting furthest from her father on the end of the aisle, who caught Holly’s attention.

This, she realised, must be Elizabeth Bennet.

Unlike her sisters, who whispered and giggled behind their hands at something amusing they’d just seen, Elizabeth stared straight ahead, looking neither to the left or the right. Her hair was neither dark nor light, but an indeterminate shade of brown. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap.

And her expression, Holly realised, was desolate.

She felt a surge of sympathy for the girl. She must’ve taken the news of Holly’s engagement to Hugh very hard. Guilt assailed her.

After all, it was because of her that Elizabeth had lost Hugh Darcy; if the two of them hadn’t met at her father’s department store and fallen in love last summer, Elizabeth might very well have ended up as Hugh’s fiancée, not her.

And that, Holly suspected as she saw Lady Darcy’s attention focused on Elizabeth, was the outcome Hugh’s mother would probably much prefer.

As if she, too, felt Holly’s eyes upon her, Elizabeth looked up and their gazes met. Unlike Emma, she didn’t smile, or nod.

Instead, just for a moment, she levelled a cold stare at Holly, leaving no doubt as to the direction of her feelings or the depth of her dislike for Hugh Darcy’s new fiancée.

Then she turned away, and the service began.

***

Afterwards, as service ended and everyone stopped to greet Father Crowley on the church steps, Holly left Hugh talking to a knot of parishioners and paused in the vestry as Lady Darcy called out to her.

‘Miss James, before you leave, there’s someone here I’d very much like you to meet.’

She turned, and found herself face to face with Mr Bennet and his trio of daughters.

‘It’s a very great pleasure, Miss James,’ their beaming father said, and took Holly’s hand in his. ‘I’m William Bennet and these young ladies are my daughters, Emma, Elizabeth and Charlotte.’

They smiled and greeted her in turn, except for Elizabeth, who gave Holly a curt nod and regarded her coolly.

‘I adore your outfit,’ Charlotte piped up, eyeing Holly’s black-and-white-striped dress and rope-soled espadrilles in envy. ‘Those shoes are Topshop, aren’t they?’

‘Yes. You have a very good eye.’

‘She ought to,’ Emma said, and rolled her eyes. ‘She’s always got her face stuck in a fashion magazine.’

‘Better that,’ Charlotte retorted, ‘than moping around the house like Anna bloody Karenina all the time.’

‘Girls, girls,’ Mr Bennet chided. He turned his attention to Holly. ‘Miss James, if you and Mr Darcy are free next Sunday, and if you’re so inclined, we’re having a small garden party at Litchfield Manor. I’d be honoured if you could attend.’

Hugh joined them and reached out to clasp Mr Bennet’s hand. ‘We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Holly?’

She glanced at Hugh, and then at Elizabeth, who turned pointedly away to greet a neighbour.

‘Yes, of course we would,’ Holly said, and managed a smile. She took a deep breath. ‘We’d love to come to your garden party next Sunday, Mr Bennet. I can’t think of anything I’d like better.’