Mr. Darcy Forever

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Mr. Darcy Forever Page 3

by Victoria Connelly


  Hopping in the back of a taxi a moment later, Mia closed her eyes. She was so looking forward to her trip to Bath, but something was worrying her, something she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on too much.

  Sarah.

  She hadn’t spoken to her sister for three years. Prior to that, Bath had been their special place where they went together, taking part in as many Jane Austen activities as they could. But since their trip to Barton Cottage, Mia hadn’t been to Bath for fear of running into Sarah.

  ‘As long as she isn’t there this year,’ Mia said to herself.

  But what if she was?

  Chapter 4

  Barton Cottage

  Edward Ferrars is such a wimp!’ Mia said through a mouthful of crisps.

  ‘Edward Ferrars is not a wimp.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Mia asked, leaning forward in the squashy sofa and throwing a cushion at Sarah, who was sitting opposite her. ‘He’s bullied by his sister, he never speaks his mind, and he almost loses the woman he loves because of it.’

  ‘But he’s trying to do the right thing,’ Sarah said. ‘It almost breaks his heart to think that he might lose Elinor, but he’s intensely honorable and stands by Lucy Steele, even though he knows they’ll be miserable together.’

  ‘Oh, that’s ridiculous! What sort of a man would marry somebody like Lucy Steele, when he’s in love with somebody else?’

  ‘An honorable man,’ Sarah said. ‘But perhaps honor isn’t something you admire in a man. Perhaps you would have preferred Edward if he’d been more like Willoughby.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean you’re easily pleased. All you look for is a handsome face and a little bit of charm—you’re just like Marianne.’

  ‘And you’re just like Elinor.’

  ‘I am not like Elinor,’ Sarah said.

  ‘You so are! I can’t believe you can’t see it.’

  ‘I can’t see it because it’s not there to see.’

  ‘Oh, let’s not have this conversation again.’ Mia groaned. ‘Every time we watch Sense and Sensibility, we end up fighting.’

  ‘That’s only because you have no common sense. You’d have forgiven Willoughby, wouldn’t you? You’d have taken him back and had him break your heart all over again.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t have.’

  ‘Yes, you would.’

  Mia stretched to her right and picked up another cushion, throwing it across the room at her sister.

  ‘Hey!’ Sarah yelped when it hit her on the head. She grabbed a cushion of her own and hurled it back toward Mia. There then ensued a major cushion fight, with both sisters grabbing every piece of soft furnishing they could find.

  Finally, Sarah stood up. ‘Enough!’ she bellowed. ‘I can’t breathe!’

  Mia fell into a giggling heap on the floor. ‘I haven’t laughed like that in years,’ she said.

  ‘I think I’ve pulled something in my back,’ Sarah said, but she was still laughing. ‘God, I can’t believe I’m thirty. I feel so old.’

  ‘You’ve always been old,’ Mia said from the carpet.

  ‘Thanks very much. It’ll come to you soon enough.’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ Mia said. ‘I’m only twenty-one. You’ve got almost a decade on me.’

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open. ‘What a thing to say! And to think I could have invited anyone here.’

  ‘No, you couldn’t have. You haven’t got any friends. Who would put up with you as I do? Nobody, that’s who.’

  ‘You are a cruel, cruel sister!’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Mia said. ‘I’m just unrelentingly honest—like Marianne.’

  ‘Yes, you are like Marianne, and that’s your problem.’ Sarah was smiling, but Mia knew she wasn’t joking.

  ‘Well, at least I can relax,’ Mia said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, look at you—we’re on holiday, and you’re still dressed as if you’re about to be interviewed.’

  Sarah frowned and looked down at the neat pair of cotton trousers she was wearing and the slightly baggy blouse. For her, that was slumming it.

  ‘You’ve got to learn to relax more.’

  ‘I am relaxed,’ Sarah said.

  Mia sighed. She gave up on her sister—she really did. Mia had taken an early shower and was in a pair of comfy pajamas. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was halfway through a family-sized bag of crisps. Sarah didn’t wear night clothes until she was ten minutes from getting into bed.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re watching Sense and Sensibility in the very cottage where it was filmed,’ Mia said, deciding to change the subject. She didn’t want to fight with Sarah, even if it was a good-natured sort of a fight with cushions and everything.

  Sarah sat down on the floor next to Mia. ‘I’ve been wanting to bring you here for ages. One of my clients came here with Pride and Prejudice Tours and showed me the photos. I couldn’t believe you could actually hire it.’

  ‘Well, it’s the best birthday present ever,’ Mia said, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder.

  There was a sudden knock on the door, and the sister’s sprang apart.

  ‘Oh, my goodness! It’s Willoughby! We’ve conjured up the spirit of Willoughby,’ Mia said excitedly, scrambling up from the carpet.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m trying to see who it is.’

  ‘Well, can’t you answer the door properly?’ Sarah said.

  ‘I can’t answer looking like this,’ Mia said, motioning to her pajamas.

  ‘Well, I haven’t got any makeup on.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t see who it is,’ Mia said.

  ‘Who on earth could be knocking? We’re in the middle of Devon.’

  ‘The owner?’ Mia suggested. ‘A mad axman?’

  ‘Don’t even joke about such things.’

  Mia jiggled the curtains. ‘It’s no use. I can’t see him.’

  ‘How do you know it’s a “him,” then?’

  ‘Just wishful thinking,’ she said.

  ‘I thought we made a pact to swear off men,’ Sarah said. ‘At least for a week.’

  Mia shrugged. ‘Those sorts of pacts never last.’

  There was a second knock on the door.

  ‘He’s not giving up, whoever he is,’ Mia said, and then she dived behind the curtain. ‘Oh, my goodness! I think he saw me!’

  ‘Is it a “he”?’

  Mia nodded. ‘A young he, too.’

  Sarah got up from the floor and joined her sister by the curtain before daring to look out of the window herself. ‘What do you think he wanted?’

  ‘To meet two young beautiful women, of course.’

  ‘Do you think we should call him back?’

  ‘I’m still in my pajamas,’ Mia said.

  ‘You’re right. We’ll have to hope he calls again. Do you think he will?’

  ‘I should think so,’ Mia said, little knowing what problems it would cause them.

  Chapter 5

  Shelley Quantock was eagerly looking out of the window of her Georgian terrace. Mia was late, not that there was anything new in that. In all of their years together at drama school, she’d never known her friend to be punctual. Still, it didn’t stop Shelley from hoping, and she continued to pace back and forth between the window and the bookcase until her friend arrived.

  At least it was a nice room to pace in, she mused, thinking of the last phone call she had with Mia and how she hated the thought of her friend stuck in a grimy bedsit in London.

  ‘Why don’t you move in with me? There’s plenty of room,’ Shelley had pleaded.

  ‘I can’t leave London,’ Mia said.

  ‘Why not? I did, and it hasn’t done me any harm.’

  ‘Yes, but you don’t want to set the world on fire, do you?’

  It was true. Even at drama school, Shelley hadn’t ever really burned with the same sort of ambition that most of the other students did. Was that a failing? she
wondered. She’d never wanted to set the world alight—she’d only ever wanted to have fun. That’s all drama school had been for her, an entertaining way of passing the time, but she knew that her friend was different. Her friend pined for the big time—of making a name for herself and seeing it up in lights, but if Shelley were absolutely honest, she herself rather preferred the quiet life. For all her loudness and easy confidence, she really couldn’t imagine hankering after a life in the public eye, although she had once had a brief brush with fame doing the voice-over to one of her father’s herbal tea commercials.

  Hugh Quantock was huge in herbal teas and could quite easily have bought Shelley and Mia a deluxe flat in the very best part of London when they graduated, but he refused. A couple of years later, however, he purchased 6 Southville Terrace in Bath, a beautiful honey-colored house with a huge bay window. It had been an investment, he said, not wanting his daughter to think she was being mollycoddled. Besides, Bath was the gateway to the South West—an area he had his eye on, in terms of business development. Shelley felt as if she didn’t deserve such a beautiful house, because she’d never really worked a day in her life, but her father bought it as an investment and expected her to pay him rent. As a result, she got a part-time job at Tumble Tots nursery and surprised herself by how much she loved to look after the little ones, which was funny, because she never imagined herself working with children.

  As an only child, Shelley had no experience looking after anyone other than herself, but there was something very satisfying about picking up a child who had fallen over or buttoning up a coat before home time or wiping a nose that needed wiping. She’d always thought of herself as the least maternal of women, but perhaps things were changing.

  She laughed at the thought. She’d have to get a love life before she had a child, and that prospect didn’t look very likely at the moment. The only man in her life was a strange lodger called Pie. Shelley wasn’t even sure if that was his first name or last name, because he didn’t say much—he just sort of drifted in and out of 6 Southville Terrace on his way to and back from goodness only knew where. Even if he had been able to hold a half-decent conversation, he wasn’t her type at all, spending most of his time filling the enormous armchair in the front room whilst watching dreadful sitcoms, his mop of brown hair hanging loose and hippie-like over his shoulders.

  Here she was, living a contented life in Bath. It really was one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and she knew it was a privilege to live there. She still got a buzz from walking around the streets and discovering crescents and squares that Jane Austen and her family would have known. It was amazing to be living in the very city her idol once lived in.

  Jane Austen was the reason that Shelley and Mia had bonded so quickly at drama school. Shelley would never forget walking into rehearsals one day and seeing Mia slumped against the wall, totally absorbed in a book that turned out to be Sense and Sensibility.

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Shelley had exclaimed. ‘I just love that book.’

  ‘You do?’ Mia said, looking up from her book in surprise.

  Shelley slumped down on to the floor next to her. ‘I have to admit to being just a little bit in love with Willoughby.’

  Mia giggled. ‘Me too. Apart from his breaking Marianne’s heart and almost being the cause of her death, that is.’

  ‘Well, that goes without saying, but he’s no different from most of the men I’ve dated. They were all handsome heartbreakers too.’

  Mia nodded in sympathy. ‘They’re the best and the worst, aren’t they?’

  The two of them had been friends ever since.

  It was whilst Shelley was remembering this that a taxi drew up to the curb and a crumpled-looking figure emerged.

  ‘Mia!’ Shelley cried, running to the front door and flinging it open. She watched as Mia struggled with her suitcase and a large bin bag.

  ‘What on earth is all this?’

  ‘Oh, you know me—I could never travel light.’

  ‘Is it your costume?’

  ‘Yes; don’t crumple it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ Shelley said. ‘Is it the old standby?’

  Mia nodded. ‘I couldn’t afford a new one.’

  ‘Well, we can retrim it and make it a bit special, can’t we?’ she said, daring to peer into the bin bag.

  ‘Do you have any money for the taxi?’ Mia interrupted just as the taxi driver honked his horn. ‘I’m absolutely broke.’

  Shelley nodded, running into the house and coming back out a moment later to pay the red-faced cabbie.

  The two women then embraced.

  ‘Gosh, I’ve missed you!’ Shelley said.

  ‘I’ve missed you more,’ Mia said. ‘London’s not the same without you.’

  ‘Well, of course it isn’t, but you wouldn’t expect the inhabitants of Bath to do without my scintillating wit and vibrant personality, would you?’

  ‘I wish you’d come back.’

  Shelley linked Mia’s arm, and the two of them went inside with the bags. ‘I can’t come back. I’ve got this place now, and I’ve even got a job—a proper job, this time.’

  ‘You mean you’re not busking outside the abbey anymore?’

  ‘I haven’t done that for years!’ Shelley said. ‘I’m working at the nursery down the road.’

  ‘A nursery? As in plants?’

  ‘No, as in children.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Mia said. ‘You’re not getting broody, are you?’

  ‘I might be,’ Shelley said, the traces of a faint flush coloring her cheeks.

  ‘What happens to our “No men, no children, just fame and fortune” plan?’ Before Shelley could reply, Mia caught sight of somebody sitting in the front room.

  ‘Who on earth is that?’ Mia asked in a hushed tone.

  ‘Oh, that’s just Pie. He lives here.’

  ‘He’s not your—’

  Shelley’s mouth dropped open before Mia could even finish her offending question. ‘No way! He’s here so I can pay my father his blasted rent.’

  A strange scraping sound came from the hallway at the back of the house.

  ‘Oh, Pie! I thought I told you to close the kitchen door.’

  An enormous chestnut beast hurled itself along the corridor and almost knocked Mia on her back.

  ‘Oh, Bingley!’ Shelley shouted, grabbing hold of the dog’s red collar and trying to restore some sort of order. ‘Are you okay, Mia? He didn’t mean to scare you. He’s friendly, really.’

  ‘What breed is he?’ Mia asked with a grin. ‘I can’t tell.’

  Shelley shook her head. ‘He’s a cross.’

  ‘What’s he crossed with?’

  ‘I don’t know. Something fat and greedy.’

  ‘He’s lovely, though.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ Shelley said. ‘Nobody wanted him, and I’m beginning to see why.’

  ‘I had no idea you had a dog.’

  ‘No, and neither does my father. He’d kill me if he knew I had an animal here.’

  Mia bent down to pat the dog. ‘He is rather beautiful,’ she said. ‘I can see why you fell for him.’

  ‘You can take him home, if you want.’

  ‘I think Mr Crownor would be even less sympathetic than your father to my having a dog.’

  ‘You’re not still in the awful bedsit, are you?’

  Mia nodded. ‘Just for the time being.’

  ‘I know,’ Shelley said, ‘fame and fortune are just round the corner, aren’t they?’

  Mia smiled, but there was a sad look in her eyes, and the first time, Shelley saw doubt there.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s have a cup of tea.’

  Mia looked anxious.

  ‘A proper cup of tea,’ Shelley added, ‘although Dad sent his usual testers, if you fancy giving them a try.’

  ‘And what have we this week?’

  ‘Erm, Camomile Dreams, Nettle Surprise, and Fennel Twist.’

  ‘I think I’ll give
those a miss, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘That’s probably a good move. I mean, Camomile Dreams isn’t too bad, but you really don’t want to smell the Fennel Twist. I came home last night, there was the strangest fug imaginable, and I found Pie in the kitchen with a mug of the stuff. I swear the whole kitchen had turned green.’

  ‘You’d better let your dad know.’

  ‘Yes, I think I shall fine him this time, say six months’ rent.’

  The two of them ventured into the kitchen, but luckily there was no green fug to greet them.

  ‘There’s nothing like Quantock Teas to put you off herbal for life,’ Shelley said as she reached for a canister filled with regular tea bag.

  ‘Hey, that’s a pretty good slogan, if you wanted your father’s business to go bust overnight.’

  Shelley laughed.

  ‘What happened to your commercial?’ Mia asked.

  ‘Daddy withdrew it,’ Shelley said.

  ‘Why? I thought it was brilliant! How did it go again?’

  Shelley took a deep breath and then recited the commercial for which she’d done the voice-over. ‘Tick-tock. Quantock. It’s time for tea.’

  Mia roared with laughter at the husky voice Shelley used. ‘Daddy said it was way too sexy and gave the completely wrong impression about the tea bags.’

  ‘I bet sales would have soared if he’d let it run its course.’

  ‘I guess we’ll never know,’ Shelley said, silently bemoaning a lost career as a voice-over artist.

  Mia looked out the kitchen window onto a small patch of emerald lawn.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she suddenly asked, seeing a man in the garden next door across the low fence that divided the terrace.

  ‘That’s Gabe Sanders,’ Shelley said, her eyes lighting up. ‘You’ll like him. In fact, I must introduce you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’re single.’

 

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