Lizzie Bennet joked with her sister Jane that she realized she was in love with Mr. Darcy the moment she laid eyes on Pemberley. For me, seeing Sebastian’s home, as stunningly fairy-tale perfect as it is, only assures me beyond a whisper of a doubt that he and I could never be together.
Any misguided feelings I have for him need to be left to wither and die.
“You coming, Em?” Kennedy asks, interrupting my train of thought.
I pull myself back to reality. “Of course.” I collect my things and make my way to the exit.
Outside the bus, the place is even more overwhelming. There’s an ornate fountain that looks like it could have been transplanted from Florence, a bunch of topiary trees and shrubs running past the house, and sitting right on top of the highest level of the house, there’s a flag pole, proudly flying the Union Jack.
As if we need a reminder that we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
We go through the process of collecting our luggage and are then grouped together in front of the house, mics attached and cameras at the ready. Although it’s summer here, the temperature has dropped about a hundred degrees from the unrelenting Texan heat we were used to, and it takes determination not to throw on a sweatshirt over my Timothy apparel.
“Mr. Darcy will be stepping out of the front door onto these steps in about thirty seconds time,” Carl, one of the crew informs us, and my belly does a flip at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again. “I want you looking super happy to see him, and excited to be here at ‘Pemberley.’ Okay?”
“We are super happy to see him and excited to be at ‘Pemberley,’” Shelby says, and a bunch of the contestants agree.
“Awesome,” he replies with more than a hint of sarcasm before he yells, “Quiet on the set!”
Right then the oversized wooden doors at the top of the stone steps swing open and Sebastian appears, looking quite the gentleman of the manor in his Mr. Darcy breeches, buttoned up jacket, and top hat.
The sight of him has my tummy doing flips, and I find myself wanting to slip behind the contestants so he doesn’t see me.
There’s a ripple of excitement that flows through the group, and every eye in the place watches as he strides through the door and out into the weak English sun.
“Ladies, welcome to Pemberley,” he says with a smile.
We all murmur our thanks, then fall silent once more.
“I trust you travelled well, and are happy to be here at ‘Pemberley.’” He shifts his weight and I wonder whether he’s uneasy giving his much-loved Martinston the fictitious name.
“I wonder where Johnathan is,” I hear Phoebe whisper behind me.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s lurking in the house somewhere,” Camille replies.
“He probably got lost. The place is huge,” Reggie comments.
“Once you are settled and changed into attire befitting a lady of Pemberley, we shall all meet for drinks on the terrace. Until then, adieu.” He smiles at us all and then turns and walks back through the large doors and into the house.
Sometime later, we are allocated our rooms up the huge staircase on the second floor. I am beyond excited to find that not only am I no longer sharing with Reggie the snorer and Lori the sleep talker, but I’ve got Kennedy, my new bestie, in a room all to ourselves. And our room is off-the-charts gorgeous. It’s massive with its own seating area and a huge four-poster bed, complete with a top canopy and curtains to make us feel like princesses. There’s a second bed near the ornate fireplace that looks like it has been added so that we can both sleep comfortably. The view is of the formal gardens below, with their boxed hedging and sculptures, and the most gorgeous stone pergola atop a low-lying hill in the middle distance.
“Em, this place is incredible,” Kennedy says, her eyes wide as she also takes in the room. “It’s like stepping back in time to a really, really rich person’s house. Which it is, when you think about it.”
I drop my luggage on the chaise at the bottom of one of the beds and gaze out the window. “It sure is something.”
“Are you kidding me? Did you see the portraits on the walls as we came up the stairs? All the art, the tapestries, the furniture? I didn’t quite realize it back in Texas.”
I turn back to face her. “Realize what?”
“Sebastian is an actual gentleman. As in a sir or something.”
I bite my lip, my insides churning with too many emotions. “He lives a different life from us, that’s for sure.”
A life I know I could never be a part of.
Chapter 20
It’s the first soirée at ‘Pemberley,’ and we’ve been instructed to wear our Regency clothes and curl those ringlets around our faces once more. With a sigh of regret for my twenty-first century self, I pack my Timothy activewear in the room’s chest of drawers. Sebastian followed through on his promise to allow me time to showcase my designs. Now it’s my turn to play the part of one of The Lizzies.
The place is abuzz with chatter as Kennedy and I reach the terrace. It’s a beautiful, mild evening, and as usual, the drinks are flowing. Again, as usual, once Sebastian arrives, he’s surrounded by a gaggle of eager women vying for his attention, their voices high and loud, interspersed with frequent giggles.
I’m sitting with Kennedy, Reggie, and Phoebe, sipping a glass of wine, the ever-present cameras hovering nearby.
“Welcome back to 1813, ladies,” Kennedy says as we settle back against the firm cushions of one of the wrought iron sofas.
I take a sip of my wine. “I know, right? We had a small taste of our fashion freedom, and now it’s been ripped from us once more.”
“I like it,” Reggie declares. “It seems right to be wearin’ these in a place like this. It’s romantic.”
“I agree,” Phoebe says.
“Do y’all have huge rooms with four-poster beds like we do?” Reggie asks. Her Southern drawl oddly seems to fit in the English aristocratic surrounds.
“Yup. Our room is amazing,” Kennedy replies.
Reggie whistles. “That’s a lot of bedrooms, and that doesn’t even include Mr. Hottie over there, or his family, who I expect to be lurkin’ ‘round here somewhere.” She gestures at Sebastian and I look in his direction. Camille is now smiling broadly as she leans up against him as though he were a man-wall, placed there for her benefit. He looks happy enough, but then the cameras are perpetually trained on the guy, so who knows? It could be all for show.
The lines are definitely blurred between what’s real and what’s not on reality television.
I turn my attention back to my friends. “It was a workout just to walk down here tonight, this place is so huge.”
Kennedy waves her glass in the air. “I am not looking forward to all those stairs tonight after a few of these.”
“Right?” Reggie agrees. “I wish there was an elevator.”
I scrunch up my nose. “I’m not sure they had those in 1813.”
“You know what I wish?” Phoebe says. “I wish I could Google Sebastian. Find out about him and his family. I bet the history of this place would be fascinating.”
“I’d like to Google him to find a photo of him with no shirt on,” Reggie says as she eyes Sebastian across the terrace. “Am I right, ladies?”
“Heck, yes,” Kennedy replies and I smile as I try not to think of Sebastian without his shirt on ... and fail.
Has the temperature suddenly risen about twenty degrees out here?
“Back in the States, I figured he was just some guy acting the part,” Kennedy says. “Sure, you could tell he’s English, and clearly came from a fancy family. Now, being here, you see he’s the real deal. I saw his family crest in the house, and it looked old. Not like those ones you can buy off of the Internet.”
“You can buy a family crest off of the Internet?” Phoebe asks and Kennedy nods her assent.
I roll my eyes. “Remind me to do that when I get back home to my tiny rented apartment on the wrong side of town.”
“Oh, yo
u won’t be headin’ there anytime soon,” Reggie says.
“What makes you say that?”
“He’s into you, darlin’. It’s plain as day.” She leans forward and adds, “Whatever your secret is, please let me in on it. That man does things to me I’m not tellin’ my mama about, if you know what I mean.”
My heartrate kicks up. “He’s not into me.”
“You sure about that?”
“Look out, girls,” Phoebe says as she sits more upright in her chair. “He’s coming our way.”
A moment later, Sebastian arrives. “Good evening, ladies,” he says in that sexy accent of his, and I have to work hard at resisting the urge to leap into his arms.
I have got to get a hold of myself. If he reciprocated my feelings, he would have kissed me when he had the chance.
“How are you all this evening?” he asks.
“Good,” I reply, feeling thoroughly awkward as the others chat with him about the house and the journey here. He smiles and answers everyone’s questions, even Reggie’s about whether he’s ever gone for a swim in his pond in just a pair of pants and a see-through white shirt, like Colin Firth in the famous BBC adaptation I used to watch with my mom.
“I have not,” he replies with a twinkle in his eyes. “But I’ll certainly add it to my to-do list.”
“As long as you tell us when you’re doin’ it. We would hate to miss the show,” Reggie purrs.
“I’ll be sure to do that, Reggie,” he replies smoothly.
After talking with us for a while about his home and how we’re finding the place, he says, “Emma, would you like to go for a walk with me? I would like to show you the garden shrubs we were discussing earlier.”
We both know we didn’t discuss plants of any kind. “Garden shrubs. Sure.”
He stands up and I do the same.
“Until later in the evening, ladies,” he says to the group.
“I’ll be holdin’ you to that,” Reggie says as we turn to leave. “I’ve got a sudden fascination with your garden shrubs myself now, too. Maybe we can go for a walk later?”
“I would enjoy that,” he replies.
Sebastian offers me his arm, and I hook mine over it all lady-like as we walk away.
“Shrubs, huh?” I ask.
“Actually, I wanted to show you the gardens. I think you’ll like them.”
“The fact you said ‘gardens’ with an ‘s’ tells me they’re going to be a whole lot more impressive than my little window box.”
“You have a window box?”
“Don’t pretend to be impressed.”
“I imagine it’s a lot less work than our gardens.”
“Watering a few gerberas every day or two isn’t exactly work, you know.”
“Are you all settled in? Do you like your room?”
“Oh, it’s totally gorgeous,” I can’t help but gush.
The skin around his eyes crinkle as he smiles at me. “I’m glad you think so.”
“It would be hard not to. Your house is seriously amazing. You’ve got to know that.”
“It’s not my house, per se. It’s my family’s. We all live here. My mother, my grandmother, and my sister, too.”
“A bit crowded, huh? I hope no one hogs the bathroom in the mornings.”
He smiles and asks, “Which room are you in?”
“Why? Are you planning to pop in for tea and crumpets?”
He shrugs. “I’m interested, that’s all.”
“I’m staying with Kennedy in the most incredible room with a massive four-poster bed, which I gave to her.”
“Because you’re so magnanimous?”
I know he’s using my word to describe myself, and his playful tone has me relaxing from a tightly bound knot. “You got it.”
“You’ll need to narrow the room down for me. All the guest accommodations have four-poster beds.”
“How awful for you,” I jest. “You’ve got too many guest rooms to keep track of. If you stayed with me, you’d be lucky if you got half the sofa. Frank would claim the other half.”
“Frank?”
“My tabby cat.” I think of my fur kid and my heart gives a squeeze. “I miss him. He’s so cute and fluffy. He can be quite prickly though, even with me, but we’ve come to an understanding: I feed him and let him do whatever he wants and he doesn’t maul me with his sharp cat claws.”
“He sounds charming.”
“Oh, he’s the best. He was a rescue. The shelter said he was mistreated before I got him. I figured he’d gone through some crap, so he could keep his foibles.”
“As well as his fur balls?”
I look at him in surprise. “Is that a joke, Mr. Darcy?”
“I do believe it is, Miss Emma.”
“Next time, how about you put your hand up so I know when you’re joking? That way I can make sure to laugh.”
“It’s reassuring to know you care so much for my ego,” he says with a laugh. “Now, what color is your wallpaper and bedding?”
“Blue.”
“Light or dark?”
“How many bedrooms have you got?”
“A few. Light blue or dark?”
“Light.”
“In that case, you’re in the Peacock room.”
“I’m glad we cleared that up.”
He smiles and warmth spreads across my chest, and it’s then that I know I’m sunk. Everything about him draws me in and holds me there. I want to spend time with him, even in front of the cameras. I want to get to know him, to learn all about him. I want to be with him. Period.
Only, despite signs to the contrary, it’s clear he doesn’t want to be with me.
He comes to a stop and turns to face me. “Tell me, Emma, what do you think of my home?” he asks softly.
“It’s breathtakingly beautiful.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Who wouldn’t? It’s got these beautiful grounds and all those bedrooms you seem to find so hard to keep track of. And the staircase? That thing is insane!”
“It’s quite something, isn’t it? It was designed in the eighteenth century during extensive renovations to the original Elizabethan design.”
A fresh smile spreads across my face.
Sebastian notices and says, “What?”
“You’re very knowledgeable.”
“Isn’t everyone about the place they live in?”
I let out a laugh. “All I know about my place is that it was built in the ‘90s with the thinnest walls known to humanity, the AC can be temperamental, and my rent is a pain in the butt. But then you wouldn’t have any clue about rent, would you? You get to live in this spectacular place, where your parents lived and their parents before them, forever and ever back to when Adam was a cowboy.”
“You’re right,” he replies after a beat and resumes walking through the pretty garden. “But we all have our crosses to bear, Emma. Just because I live here doesn’t mean I don’t have mine.”
“You mean like having to remember how many bathrooms you’ve got?”
“Something like that.”
We’ve reached the edge of the terrace now, and I notice several of the contestants approaching us with eager looks on their faces.
“There you are, Sebastian,” Camille says as she hooks her arm through his and literally tries to pull him away from me. I let go of his arm and his eyes find mine briefly before he turns to Camille.
She pouts. “I’ve missed you. I hope Emma hasn’t been boring you talking about her label.”
God, she’s horrible.
“On the contrary, Camille. Emma is quite delightful,” he replies, and I can’t help but shoot her a smug smirk. I’m delightful. Take that, Camille.
Clearly nonplussed, she ignores me and tugs on Sebastian’s arm. “Can we go for a little chat? I want to learn all about life at Pemberley.” She glares at me and adds, “Alone.”
“Of course. Shall we go for a walk?”
“Actually, I’ve got
us a place to sit and chat, just over there.” She points at the picturesque swing seat flanked by topiary bushes in the garden. “Doesn’t it look adorable?”
“Adorable is exactly the word I’d use,” he replies.
I look down and allow myself a small smile. The Sebastian I’ve come to know would never use the word “adorable.”
As he and Camille leave, and the cameras with them, I spy a spot on a sofa next to my reality bestie, Kennedy, and plunk myself down against the comfortable cushions.
Kennedy hands me a glass of wine. “Nice chat with Mr. Darcy?”
“It was fine,” I reply noncommittally.
She props herself up and eyes me. “You like him, don’t you? Like, genuinely like him.”
If I were smart, I’d deny it. What use would it serve to admit to my feelings when I never planned on a) falling for the guy, and b) being here for this long? Not to mention our mics are on and we’re being filmed.
Only, I’ve realized I want to stay, and it’s not for my label. I want to be here for Sebastian.
And it’s probably the least sane thing I’ve wanted in my whole life.
Instead of replying, I deflect. “What about you? Do you like him?” I ask.
“Off topic.”
“It’s totally on topic. We’re all here to date Mr. Darcy, remember?”
“I admit, I had wondered about him. I mean, the guy’s hot, he was very sweet on our date, and I’m only flesh and blood.” She gives me a sardonic smile. “But then I saw the way he’s been looking at this friend of mine lately, you know, when he thinks no one is watching him? He’s all gooey-eyed and smiley.”
Does he do that? My tummy does an involuntary flip.
“No, he doesn’t look at me all gooey eyed.”
“Oh, honey, he does. I worked out pretty fast there’s no point in even trying, not when he’s got it bad for my friend Emma.”
I do my best to ignore the hope rising inside me. “No, he doesn’t,” I reply weakly. “He’s being nice, that’s all.”
She takes a sip of her drink. “Sure he is.”
Kennedy’s words catapult around my head. Sure, he pulls me aside to talk with me at the soirées, and he can be very flirty with me when we’re alone, away from the cameras. But nothing has ever actually happened between us. And even if he did feel something for me, how do I know he doesn’t have feelings for the other girls, too?
Dating Mr. Darcy: A romantic comedy (Love Manor Romantic Comedy Book 1) Page 16