Mr. Darcy Forever

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘Me? Whatever for?’

  He laughed, and Sarah found that she was soon laughing with him.

  ‘You are funny,’ he said at last. ‘Don’t you know how fascinating you are?’

  Sarah’s eyes crinkled in merriment. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

  ‘Why would I be joking?’

  ‘Because—well, just because.’

  He leaned forward and fixed her with a penetrating stare. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Your life story. I want to know everything.’

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed in suspicion behind her sunglasses. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why not?’ he said.

  ‘Well, there really isn’t much to tell.’

  ‘All the really interesting people say that,’ he said.

  ‘But it’s true. You should be talking to Mia. She’s far more interesting than I am.’

  ‘But she’s already told me everything. I want to know about you.’

  Sarah felt uncomfortable. She was never happy when the attention was fully on her, but she was doubly uncomfortable with Alec’s attention, because it seemed so clear to her that he’d been flirting with her sister. Why did he now seem so interested in her? Maybe it was to get around her, so that she wouldn’t object to his being with Mia. Perhaps he saw her as a parent figure, a person who might stand in the way of him and Mia.

  ‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind your seeing Mia.’

  ‘What?’ Alec asked, looking baffled.

  Sarah didn’t get a chance to explain, because Mia came running up the garden.

  ‘Hey!’ she shouted, waving at the two of them. ‘Don’t you both look lazy sitting there in the sunshine? What have you been talking about? Me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah said. ‘What else?’

  Chapter 19

  It was the second day of the Jane Austen Festival, and Mia and Shelley were in the kitchen, looking out onto a bright Sunday morning sky.

  ‘Are we wearing our dresses again today?’ Shelley asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Mia said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to wearing mine all year. I can’t very well wear it in London, can I?’

  ‘Imagine the looks you’d get on the tube!’ Shelley said.

  Mia collected the breakfast dishes and piled them into a bowl of hot soapy water.

  ‘Your neighbor’s out,’ Mia said casually.

  Shelley got up from her chair to look. ‘Oh, just look at the poor lamb.’

  Mia looked up from her soapy water and saw the rather pathetic sight of a man with a sling trying to hang a basket of washing out on the line.

  ‘Do go and help him, Mia,’

  ‘Why don’t you go?’

  ‘Because I’m doing the dishes,’ she said, suddenly pushing Mia out of the way.

  Mia rolled her eyes. ‘You are the most unsubtle of matchmakers,’ she said. ‘I’ve told you, I’m not interested in men at the moment.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. What is it Mrs Smith said in Persuasion? “Every man is refused… till he offers.”’

  ‘But how am I even meant to help him? There’s a great big fence between us.’

  ‘Yes, but a bit’s broken toward the back, courtesy of Bingley. Just nip through there.’

  Mia rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to get any peace until she acquiesced, was she? Walking the length of the garden until she came to the gap in the fence, she looked back at the window. Shelley nodded her forward, her eyes wide and eager, and Mia slipped through the fence, careful not to snag her clothes on the Bingley-sized gap.

  ‘Hello,’ she said as Gabe looked up from his washing basket. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not a burglar. Shelley thought you looked like you needed a hand.’

  Gabe turned around and gave her a smile that really was quite cute—for an older man, that is, Mia thought.

  ‘I certainly could use another hand,’ he said. ‘It isn’t easy with just one.’

  ‘I hope you’re not left-handed.’

  He shook his head. ‘Luckily, no.’

  Mia bent down and picked up a checked shirt from the laundry basket and pegged it on the line. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d hung washing outside. In her little flat in London, one had to do one’s best with an airer above the bathtub and a rotating system on two small radiators, which fogged up the windows and caused the wallpaper to curl. It was rather nice to have a washing line and to see the clothes fluttering about in the warm autumn breeze.

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ Gabe said.

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ Mia said.

  ‘I mean, it’s very good of you, but I can manage. Sort of.’

  Mia smiled. ‘I’m actually quite enjoying it. I don’t have a washing line.’

  Gabe stared at her as if she were an alien.

  ‘I live in a bedsit in London,’ she explained.

  ‘As I did too. A long time ago.’

  ‘Oh, did you?’

  ‘Whilst I was training to become an architect. Had to slum it for a few years in dreadful accommodations, but got out as soon as I could.’

  ‘Yes, it’s lovely here. Shelley’s lucky to have such a great place.’ Mia bent down and retrieved a white shirt, clean and crisp, and pegged it on the line. It was followed by a pair of black boxer shorts, and Mia felt a blush creep over her cheeks.

  Gabe cleared his throat. ‘Sorry,’ he said, taking them from her.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Mia said it, but she still felt embarrassed. It wasn’t the sort of situation to befall the heroine from a Jane Austen novel, was it? She delved back into the basket and chose a safe T-shirt, allowing her blush to ebb away.

  ‘Thanks so much,’ he said, a smile tickling his mouth as the last shirt was pegged onto the line.

  ‘That’s okay,’ Mia said before hopping back through the broken fence.

  ‘I was just going to make a cup of coffee,’ Gabe called after her. ‘Would you like one?’

  Mia hesitated and looked back at the kitchen window, where Shelley was flapping her hands, as if to shoo Mia back whence she came.

  ‘Okay,’ Mia said, entering Gabe’s garden again. She followed him into his house, taking one last look at Shelley, who was giving her the thumbs up.

  The kitchen was a lovely bright room with pale blond cabinets and a fabulous gray slate floor, and there wasn’t so much as a tea bag out of place. Having only dated young men or those who had recently graduated whilst she was at drama school, Mia was used to a totally different kind of kitchen. She grimaced as she remembered the filthy, sticky floors and sinks overflowing with crusty dishes. She’d never have accepted a cup of coffee from one of those kitchens. Perhaps there was something to be said about the older man, after all. Perhaps a modern-day Willoughby would have a kitchen that looked like a student’s, whereas a modern-day Colonel Brandon’s kitchen would be more akin to Gabe’s.

  She watched as Gabe rolled up his sleeves, displaying strong, toned arms, and went to put the kettle on. She gave his clothes the once-over. His shirt was checked and looked a little old-fashioned and made him look as if he’d stepped out of the magazine, Country Life. He was wearing fawn-colored corduroy trousers that also gave him the look of a landowner. All he needed was a Labrador and a couple of rifles slung over his shoulder.

  ‘How do you like your coffee?’ he asked, startling her out of her rural daydream.

  ‘Milk, one sugar, please.’

  A moment later, he handed her a terra-cotta mug and invited her into the living room next door.

  Gabe’s house was a mirror image of Shelley’s, but unlike Shelley’s, it seemed far less chaotic, even though it was crammed full. Mia whistled when she saw the book-lined front room. The far wall was packed from floor to ceiling with books, and there were neat bookcases along the other two walls as well. The rest of the wall space was taken up by framed prints of buildings that Mia didn’t recognize. Perhaps they were buildings Gabe had designed.

/>   ‘So you’re here for the festival?’ Gabe asked, sitting down on a dark red sofa and motioning for Mia to do the same, but she was too much of a fidget to sit. Besides, she was still looking around.

  ‘Yes, I came through from London,’ she said. ‘I used to come every year, but… well, things get complicated, don’t they?’

  Gabe’s eyebrows rose a fraction, as if he wanted her to explain. ‘And you’re obviously a Jane Austen fan?’

  ‘Of course. I don’t think anybody should live in Bath unless they adore Jane Austen.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mia said. ‘Why—don’t you?’

  ‘Well, adore is a pretty strong word. I’m not sure I adore her, but I’ve read a bit.’

  ‘A bit?’ Mia stared in wide-eyed horror. ‘What—bits from each book?’

  Gabe laughed. ‘I read Pride and Prejudice once. It was a long time ago, and I don’t remember much about it. Is that awful?’

  ‘Yes!’ Mia said. ‘That’s really awful!’

  ‘Then I shall try and remedy the situation. Which books would you recommend?’

  ‘You have to want to read them,’ Mia said. ‘They shouldn’t be forced upon you.’

  ‘But I do want to read them. Perhaps then I’ll understand what all the fuss is about.’

  Mia sighed. ‘You’ll have to read all of them. There are only six, and you really shouldn’t take any shortcuts. But I suppose you should start with Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, as they are both set in Bath. They were also her first and last completed novels, so they’re a bit special.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I shall buy myself some copies straightaway.’

  ‘Good,’ Mia said, nodding her approval.

  Gabe smiled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You don’t mince your words, do you?’

  ‘No,’ Mia said. ‘You have to say what you think in this life. There’s no point hiding your feelings. That would just be a waste of time.’

  Gabe nodded.

  ‘You agree, then?’

  ‘Although I’m not sure I’m able to follow your lead.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because if I told all my clients what I was really thinking, I’d never have any employment at all.’

  Mia frowned. ‘But how can you keep your thoughts back?’

  ‘I hide behind a very thin veil of politeness. I listen to what my clients have to say, and if I disagree with them, I bite my tongue and then try to coerce them around to my way of thinking.’

  ‘But doesn’t that drive you crazy?’

  Gabe shrugged. ‘It’s all part of the job. I just have to get on with it.’

  ‘Oh, I always have to speak my mind,’ Mia said.

  ‘And doesn’t that get you into trouble?’

  ‘All the time,’ she said and then gave a little laugh. ‘But I can’t be any other way, I’m afraid.’

  Gabe stared at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I admire that,’ he said. ‘There aren’t enough people who are honest and open in this world.’

  ‘Shelley is,’ Mia said.

  ‘Oh, yes. Shelley’s brilliant. Have you been friends long?’

  ‘Since drama school.’

  ‘She’s been a really good friend to me,’ Gabe said.

  Mia smiled. ‘Well, she certainly seems to like you.’

  Gabe frowned and his eyes narrowed. ‘What’s she been saying?’

  ‘Nothing. Only that you are very nice,’ Mia said with a little blush.

  ‘Shelley means well, but she’s a meddler, I’m afraid—in the nicest possible way.’

  ‘You mean she’s tried to match you before?’

  ‘Every other week,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, dear.’

  ‘I mean, I don’t mind. I’ve actually met some very interesting young ladies, like Mary the Goth, with the purple lipstick and eyes like a giant panda.’

  Mia smiled.

  ‘And Janice, who didn’t stop talking the whole two hours she was here.’

  ‘I suppose friends always think they know best,’ Mia said.

  ‘I think Shelley expects the world to be like one of those romantic novels she’s always reading.’

  ‘That’s the only problem with novels,’ Mia said. ‘They give readers such high hopes that the real world can often be a bit of a letdown.’

  Gabe looked as if he was about to say something, but a sudden mass of chestnut fur tore into the room.

  ‘Bingley!’ Mia said in shock.

  ‘I must have left the back door open again,’ Gabe said. ‘He’s always finding his way here.’

  Mia watched as Bingley made himself at home by Gabe’s feet.

  ‘We’re old buddies, aren’t we?’ Gabe said, bending down to pat Bingley’s head.

  ‘He certainly looks at home here. You really should adopt him. I don’t think Shelley can handle him.’

  ‘Oh, you’d be surprised. I’ve seen her with him, and she’s brilliant. I think she just puts on an act about his being too much for her. We all like something to moan about, don’t we?’

  ‘I suppose so. What’s yours, then?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Aches and pains here and there.’ He nodded to his arm. ‘Exercise seems to do me more harm than good now.’

  ‘But you’re quite old now,’ Mia said. ‘I suppose that’s to be expected.’

  Gabe laughed. ‘Don’t sugar coat it for me, will you?’

  Mia bit her lip. ‘I didn’t mean to sound rude, and I’m sorry if I did but…’

  ‘What?’

  Mia looked at him. ‘Well, you said Shelley has been trying to matchmake, you but… well… do you think you will find someone? I mean if you haven’t found the right person by now.’

  ‘But I did find the right person.’

  Mia frowned. ‘Then what happened? Didn’t she love you? Was it unrequited love?’ she asked, imagining him writing reams of poetry to a callous woman who didn’t return his affection.

  ‘No, it wasn’t unrequited love. In fact, we married.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re divorced? I’m so sorry.’

  Gabe shook his head. ‘It wasn’t divorce that took her. It was meningitis.’

  ‘She died?’ Mia’s eyes were wide with horror. ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t know.’

  ‘Nobody does. It happened before I came here, and I try to keep that part of my life private. I’d hate to think of the pity that would be laid at my doorstep if someone like Shelley knew the truth.’

  ‘Was your wife very young?’

  ‘Twenty-nine.’

  Tears brimmed in Mia’s eyes. ‘That’s awful. That’s only a few years older than me.’

  Gabe nodded. ‘We’d been married only three years.’ He paused for a moment, bending down again to pat Bingley’s comforting head. Mia looked around the room.

  ‘Is this her?’ she asked, gazing down at a small silver photo frame on the bookcase. The photograph was of a young woman with long red hair and a smiling face.

  ‘Yes,’ Gabe said, looking at the photo.

  ‘She’s beautiful.’

  Gabe got up from the chair and picked up the photo, and for one terrible moment, Mia thought he was going to cry. Her and her big mouth. Why was she so nosy, and why did she always have to ask too many questions?

  ‘What was her name?’ she said, knowing it was probably wrong to ask yet more questions but quite unable to help herself.

  ‘Andrea,’ he said.

  ‘How did you meet her?’

  Gabe smiled. ‘It was a mutual friend.’

  ‘Like Shelley trying to matchmake you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Only she managed to get it right the first time.’

  ‘Then it was love at first sight?’

  ‘Not exactly. Well, not for Andrea, but it was for me.’

  Mia smiled and noticed that his eyes were bright and wide, as if remembering the first time he’d seen Andrea.

  ‘We’d both b
een invited to one of those awful dinners where you just know it’s going to be awkward and that the host is setting you up. Anyway, I was sitting opposite Andrea. She’d been introduced to me but had immediately struck up a conversation with the host’s husband that seemed to go on for hours, and I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.’

  ‘That’s very rude of her.’

  Gabe smiled. ‘She told me later that she’d done it deliberately because she was too shy to talk to me.’

  ‘Was she really shy?’

  ‘Until the coffee was served, and then she looked up and smiled at me, and I was lost.’

  Mia gasped. It was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard. He was lost. Had she ever had that effect on a man? She doubted it.

  ‘I couldn’t take my eyes off her after that. I must have looked like a fool, but I didn’t care. Then, when we were about to leave, she held out her hand to shake mine and placed a little piece of paper in it with her phone number on it.’

  ‘And you called her?’

  ‘The very next day.’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  Gabe’s forehead creased. ‘You don’t really want to know all this, do you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mia said. ‘I’m an Austen fan. There’s nothing I like more than a love story.’

  Gabe smiled. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell you, but you have to let me top up that coffee first.’

  Mia looked down at her empty cup. She couldn’t actually remember drinking it, because she’d been enthralled by his story.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘But then I want all the details.’

  Chapter 20

  Shelley had a dilemma. She and Mia were due to head down into town to attend a walking tour of Jane Austen’s Bath, but Mia hadn’t yet come back from Gabe’s.

  ‘Do you think I should go and get her?’ she asked as Pie walked into the living room, his mass of dark hair obscuring half his face. ‘She’s been in there for ages.’

  Pie grunted his response, which wasn’t very helpful at all.

  ‘I mean, I did send her round there, but I thought she’d be gone only five minutes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted that things seem to be going well, but I’m just a bit worried. What on earth can they be doing?’

  Pie grunted again.