Читать книгу A Weekend with Mr Darcy: The perfect summer read for Austen addicts! - Виктория Коннелли, Victoria Connelly - Страница 15

The Cedar Room was absolutely perfect and Robyn fell 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 away before her and the cedar tree stood sentinellike to her right.

She looked at the double bed and couldn’t help feeling 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 so 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.

Emptying her handbag of everything she didn’t need -which included two paperbacks and a bumper packet of mint humbugs, she 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 into the room at the back of the house known as the Yellow Drawing Room. It was filled with mellow afternoon light and the windows looked out over the gardens down to the lake.

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

‘It’s so 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 a hold 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 in order to accommodate all the guests.

‘How many people are here?’ Robyn asked.

‘There’s usually twenty to thirty but not everyone stays in the hall. There are only enough rooms for about eighteen. Everyone else stays in nearby B&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 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.

It was just as Robyn was contemplating an Austen-style declaration of love from the dark-haired gentleman to her new friend when a gentleman in a scarlet waistcoat entered the room, standing in front of the window and clearing his throat and 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 which was quickly followed by a riotous round of applause as all eyes turned to the door as the actress made her entrance.

Robyn felt a strange fluttery feeling in her chest. She was actually rather 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 meringuelike 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 got into him? Hadn’t he been going to recreate the role of hero and stride across the room to introduce himself to Katherine? 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 schoolboy! 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 prat to be avoided at all costs and I’ve not even spoken to her yet.

Reaching 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 recognize 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 and that 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.