Summer in Sorrento

by Melissa Hill

  Not that Darcy required a man to have movie star good looks of course, but what on earth did her aunt think that she would see in Oliver Martin? Other than they were both book geeks, they were likely to have absolutely nothing else in common.

  ‘Oliver!’ Katherine commanded, putting a proprietary arm around his shoulders and not in the least bit mindful of interrupting the conversation he’d been having with another guest. ‘I want you to meet my niece, Darcy Archer. With you being new to the city, I thought the two of you should have the opportunity to get acquainted.’

  Darcy opened her mouth to speak, unsure of how she was going to extract herself from the situation, when Oliver beat her to it.

  ‘Do you game?’ he asked, looking her up and down.

  She blinked, unsure of the question, and looked at her aunt who quickly smiled before she sauntered off.

  Darcy smiled politely at him. ‘I’m sorry but I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘Do you game?’ Oliver asked again, as if repeating the question would help her understand it. ‘Gaming? On a computer, TV or gaming system?’

  ‘Oh.’ She bit her lip, and felt a fresh wave of exasperation come over her. She glanced helplessly over her shoulder towards her aunt, who had by now disappeared into the crowd. What on earth had Katherine been thinking?

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t, I’m a bit of a Luddite actually.’ The dusty old Vaio laptop she owned was so old it still ran on Windows 98, and was only used now and again for the creation of flyers for Chaucer’s. Darcy was completely bewildered by Facebook, Twitter or any of the social networking systems that lately seemed to be rapidly replacing face to face communication. And as an advocate of the written word, computers were almost an anathema to her way of life. To her, time spent online was precious time away from reading real books and while she knew she was old-fashioned and completely behind the times, was there really anything terribly wrong with that?

  But upon this admission Oliver’s face immediately went blank, as if he had nothing else to say to her. Darcy took a sip of her wine and thought quickly for something else to chit chat about. ‘So Katherine said you’ve just moved to New York. Where from?’

  ‘San Diego,’ the author replied simply.

  ‘Oh, California, wonderful,’ she enthused, nodding. ‘Quite a departure from this part of the world. Weather wise, especially.’ She motioned towards the window where snow was now falling heavily outside, the gentle snowflakes illuminated by lamplight and mesmerising in their descent.

  Oliver’s expression showed no recognition whatsoever that the New York climate was any different to where he’d moved from. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  Darcy swallowed. Did he not go outside then…ever?

  ‘I’m originally from Wisconsin and only lived out west for one reason; Comic-Con. Ever been?’ Again he looked at her expectantly.

  ‘Um, no. Never actually,’ she said, her mind conjuring up what little she knew about the event, and she pictured a bunch of grown men dressed up as Spiderman or Thor. Not exactly her scene.

  ‘Oh, you should totally go,’ he said by way of a command.

  She plastered on a smile, and surreptitiously glanced down at her watch. This was beyond awkward. Usually Katherine’s choices in matchmaking were a little bit closer to the mark. Was she now so desperate to get her niece paired off that any man would do?

  She thought back to the last author her aunt had tried to foist on her possibly a year or so ago – a Valentino-clad egotistical thriller writer who had more in common with the macho series character at the centre of his bestsellers than any real-life person. The guy might have been wealthy, mega-successful and movie star handsome, but he had the personality of a dishrag.

  Still personality aside, at least GI author had some things going for him.

  ‘I’m not sure it would be my scene really,’ Darcy told Oliver Martin. ‘It’s not something I know a lot about. My taste in literature is quite differ—’

  Oliver cut her off. ‘Oh? So what do you read then?’

  ‘Well, I’m a fan of Jane Austen, the Brontes, and most of the classic Regency romances, as well as Dickens and Shakespeare of course. I do enjoy much of our more contemporary literature too - really, my interests span across multiple genres and—’

  Oliver cut her off again. ‘Have you read my books?’

  Darcy automatically felt her face flush. Authors almost always asked that question and nine times out of ten the answer wasn’t the one they wanted to hear. She remembered the thriller author’s disbelief that Darcy wasn’t (like most of the female reading population it seemed) head over heels in love with Max Bailey, fictional hero of his bestselling series –a kickass, crime-fighter styled as a modern-day James Bond. ‘It’s just… I must admit that I don’t read all that much science fiction,’ she fudged. ‘I’ve heard it’s a wonderful book though, and the reviews have been —’

  Oliver looked impatient. ‘It is good. It’s great, actually. But I can’t believe you prefer sappy Austen to something with real merit. What is it with all you women who’d rather read about Colin Farrell in a dripping shirt than something of substance?’

  Darcy’s mouth dropped open at the man’s blatant rudeness, and was about to retort that Austen was anything other than ‘sappy’ when at that moment, her mobile phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and looked at the screen. It was a text from Ashley asking if Darcy wouldn’t mind moving her shift around tomorrow. The graduate daughter of a successful city real estate developer, and thus only in the job for the fun rather than the money, twenty-something Ashley was notoriously undependable, but very sweet and the customers adored her.

  It meant that Darcy would be opening up first thing, but given that the evening had been going rapidly downhill from the outset, there was little point in her staying around here for much longer. It might actually be a blessing in disguise.

  She looked back at Oliver and realised that whatever retort she might make would be wasted on this overgrown teenager. He might be the current hot-shot in publishing and in talks with Spielberg, but he was sorely lacking manners, and indeed literary knowledge.

  ‘I think it’s Colin Firth you’re referring to actually, not Colin Farrell. And you know what they say; you should never judge a book by its movie.’ Smiling tightly, she turned on her heel. ‘You will have to excuse me; I need to make a call. Good luck with your book. Nice meeting you,’ she lied, taking her leave as quickly as possible.

  Darcy made her way to the front of the restaurant and typed an affirmative response to Ashley. At that moment, Katherine approached her from behind.

  ‘Where are you going? Why aren’t you talking to Oliver?’

  Darcy glanced over her shoulder to where Oliver Martin was now chatting animatedly with a man holding an Iron Man helmet, guessing that that conversation would be much more to his liking. She wondered briefly if the guy had worn the helmet here.

  ‘Aunt Katherine, please. Before you start. I am not talking to that man because we have absolutely nothing in common. He might be involved in books, and I might be interested in books, but a match that does not make. ‘

  Her aunt sighed deeply. ‘Oh you are just impossible sometimes. How are you ever going to find someone? Such a shame. You do know that the movie based on Will Anderson’s books opens this week, don’t you? I knew at the time that he was an incredible catch, and of course now his career’s about go even more stellar. I know he was interested in you too -’

  ‘The same guy was already madly in love with someone else, Aunt Katherine,’ Darcy argued tiredly. ‘His own reflection. When are you going to release that I’m just not interested in men who are all about success and career? I want someone who’s fun and intelligent, and who can actually hold a conversation with someone other than themselves.’

  ‘Don’t we all?’ her aunt replied airily. Then she sighed. ‘I just want you to be happy, darling. This city’s not an easy place to be alone, especially around the holidays and -�
�

  ‘But I’m not alone. I have lots of friends, and I have you too, don’t I? OK I know you’re heading to St Bart’s for Christmas this year -’

  Notwithstanding that her aunt would be going out of town, she and Katherine just didn’t have that sort of relationship.

  Darcy thought about their first Christmas together, over twenty years ago – not long after her parents’ accident. She was still only a child though she felt like she’d grown up almost overnight upon losing her beloved family, and moving in with her mother’s younger sister who in truth she barely knew. Her forbidding and somewhat austere aunt had always frightened Darcy a little, and she seemed to possess little of Lauren’s natural warmth and gentle ways.

  She recalled how that Christmas Katherine’s modern Brooklyn condo had barely been decorated for the season; nothing but a small, artificial tree in the corner of the living room and a holly wreath on the door - a sharp contrast to the lavish and cheery festive adornments of her family’s classic brick townhouse in the older part of the borough at that time of year.

  There was no lovingly prepared Christmas dinner on the day - Katherine ordered Thai take-out - nor a big fuss that same morning around the opening of presents like Darcy was used to.

  In fact, it was almost as though her aunt had forgotten about the holiday altogether, and Darcy wasn’t sure if this was down to Katherine’s still-raw grief over losing her only sister a few months before, or her bewilderment at the sudden overwhelming responsibility of a twelve-year-old girl. Most likely a combination of both.

  Though given her own heartbreak following the accident, Darcy hadn’t felt like there was much to celebrate. Still, Christmas had always been one of her favourite times of the year and the lack of any traditional nod towards the festivities merely served to highlight her loneliness and the gaping difference between her old life and the new.

  Over the years, and mostly through her own efforts, Darcy had gradually brought her aunt round to celebrating the season, though Katherine typically preferred to spend the holidays in warmer climes, whereas Darcy couldn’t conceive of being anywhere else but Manhattan at this time of year

  And even though in reality she and Katherine had spent only five years living under the same roof, Darcy had always felt that she’d been cramping her vivacious aunt’s style, which was why she’d tried to stay as independent as possible and make her own way in life as soon as she could. She wasn’t sure why her aunt’s sense of responsibility now seemed to extend to finding Darcy a mate - perhaps if she was coupled or married off, then in Katherine’s mind that burden of duty (perceived or otherwise) would finally end? There was no denying that Katherine took a business-like approach to most things in life. It was part of the reason she’d been so successful in navigating Manhattan’s cut-throat events scene. Darcy knew that her own lack of ambition was another aspect of her character that her aunt didn’t understand, but she was happy with her life and her job and her beloved books. Sure, she guessed she could do with a little more excitement in her life, but she figured most people felt like that from time to time.

  Katherine put a hand on Darcy’s arm in a rare show of tenderness. ‘Of course you have me.’ She watched in surprise as Darcy started to take out her gloves and scarf. ‘You’re not leaving now, are you? But you just got here! I promise I won’t introduce you to any other…’

  ‘No, honestly, thanks, but I think I have had enough for one night. Besides, I have an early start in the morning.’

  ‘Well if you insist. But you certainly can’t ride that bike home now,’ her aunt argued indicating the now thickly falling snow outside. ‘It’s too dangerous and it’s getting late. We will catch you a cab and they can put your bike in the trunk.’

  Moments later, Darcy was tucked into a Yellow Cab with her aunt peering in the window. The cab driver pulled away from the kerb, as her aunt hit one resounding hand on the roof of the car. Darcy waved a weak goodbye and stared forward as the driver made his way down the street.

  ‘You said West Houston?’ the driver asked as he turned the corner.

  ‘No,’ she said resolutely, ‘change of plans. Just take me up a couple blocks and turn right. I can get my bike out and go from there.’

  Snowflakes landing on her cheeks was one of her favourite sensations, and she would much rather brave the elements than be cooped up in an airless vehicle. ‘In this weather?’

  Darcy nodded.

  ‘In this weather,’ she repeated in a tone that indicated the conversation was over. ‘But thanks anyway,’ she added, not wanting to be rude.

  Moments later, as the driver unloaded her bike and she reached into her messenger bag to get his fare, her hand touched her old dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice. She felt a sudden longing to get home as quickly as possible, make a cup of chamomile tea, change in to her pyjamas and get under the covers with her namesake, Mr Darcy. Her mum had been a big fan of Austen too, she thought smiling fondly as she recalled when her mum had first introduced her to her all-time favourite novel. Darcy had been too young to understand much of the subject matter or theme at the time, but over the years found herself returning again and again to Austen’s famous tale, finding comfort in the story and she supposed, viewing it as a kind of tangible connection to her late mum.

  She slung a leg over her bike as the cab driver got back in his vehicle and disappeared. Alone on the cold street, the snow fell across her shoulders and she tentatively pushed off, knowing she would have to ride with caution.

  Darcy stared in front of her and navigated the empty streets as snowflakes danced in front of her, happier now in the knowledge that she was in control of her own destiny and would be home soon.

  In the words of Groucho Marx, she thought wryly, I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it.

  Chapter 3

  ‘Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you’ Marsha Norman

  The setting sun dropped languidly behind the small pond that ran along the back of the Pemberley Estate. Here it was mid-summer, and the heat added to the mood that now enshrouded Darcy as she took a tentative step towards the horizon.

  Although she was a lady and shouldn’t be inclined to so-called animal urges, it was indeed difficult to curb the anticipation that soared through her chest at that moment. It seemed the faster she breathed, the more her tight whalebone stays drove into her chest and constricted her fluttering heart. But, it looked as though her efforts to still herself would not take hold. She could barely contain her racing heart and her thoughts of what would happen.

  Would he be here? she wondered

  She knew she was breaking all the rules just then. She understood that she was facing damage to her reputation if anyone saw her alone with him. But still, she couldn’t seem to care about her reputation. Not in light of the ecstasy she felt when she was in his presence, how alive she felt at the heady sense of wonder that sprang up in her heart when she was around him. This shocked her, considering they hadn’t got off onto the best of starts. And that was saying the absolute least.

  She adjusted her parasol and quickened her pace as the lake came into full view before her. Suddenly, hearing the clattering of hooves behind her, her pulse spiked. Quickly, she turned towards the sound as her breath caught in her throat.

  There he was. His gaze met hers as he pulled his great steed to a stop and quickly dismounted. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul and she placed a quivering hand against the bosom of her empire waist gown.

  A tentative smile flitted across her face even while his expression remained unreadable in the setting sun. Wondering what she should do next, it was he who made the first move. First, taking a slow step in her direction, and then seeming to have made up his mind about something, he closed the space between them quickly with his long stride.

  Before she knew what was happening, he was in front of her, so close she could smell the intoxicating male aroma of the brandy he had been sipping after dinner and
the pipe tobacco she knew he kept in his coat pocket. Her lips parted breathlessly.

  ‘You’re here,’ he said simply.

  ‘I am,’ she replied, feeling a blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks. His gaze found her lips and at once she understood what would happen next. As if on cue, his eyes turned a smoky shade of gray and determination crossed his face. He moved his head ever so subtly toward hers and her heart threatened to explode from her chest. He was going to kiss her! Mr. Darcy was going to kiss her!

  ‘Miss Archer …’ he said quietly.

  “Yes?” she replied breathlessly as she met his eyes.

  BUZZ…BUZZ…BUZZ…BUZZ.

  Confused, and unwilling to miss what he was about to say next, she shook her head, as if trying shoo away an annoying insect that had begun to buzz around her brain.

  She looked around out of frustration, trying to figure out just who was interrupting what had to be the most romantic moment of her life

  BUZZ…BUZZ…BUZZ…BUZZ.

  Darcy sat up in bed, and pushed her wayward curls out of her face, trying to get a handle on where she was. She put her hand on the ringing phone lying next to her on her pillow, where she must have left it after texting Katherine the night before to confirm that she was safely home.

  She’d spent the rest of the evening reading in bed, and realised she must have dozed off before setting her alarm. And had spent much of her slumber enjoying a recurring dream that was just about to reach a most satisfactory conclusion, only to be interrupted at a critical moment.

  Darcy sighed. Looking blearily at the phone display, she discovered that she had multiple missed calls and frighteningly, that it was almost ten am! She was more than an hour late for work, and poor Joshua had been phoning steadily for the last hour and was trying to call her right then.

  Feeling panic rise in her chest, she fumbled with the keypad to answer the call. Fully awake now, she hit the accept button.