Dreaming of Mr. Darcy

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘And I’m the only person who can change it,’ she said to herself.

  Chapter 35

  Kay was in the kitchen when she heard the front door again. She put down the cookery book. The black forest gateaux was far beyond her capabilities anyway, but the lemon drizzle cake had come out a treat.

  ‘Just wait there,’ she told the cake before venturing through to the hallway. ‘Hello?’ she called.

  ‘Hello, my lovely,’ a voice said.

  ‘Oli!’ she said. ‘Come through to the kitchen. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

  His eyebrows rose, and he followed her through. ‘What’s all this, then?’

  Kay pulled the rose-festooned tin towards her and prised off the lid to reveal the cake.

  ‘For me?’

  ‘I made it this afternoon,’ Kay said, thinking it was probably wise not to mention the help she’d had. ‘Would you like some?’ She rushed forward to open a cupboard. She reached in for two pretty yellow plates, which she deemed perfect for lemon cake. ‘Oli?’

  When she turned around, she saw that his eyes were closed and his face looked as pale as the moon.

  ‘You look absolutely drained,’ she said, placing the plates on the worktop.

  ‘I am absolutely drained.’

  ‘Is there anything I can get you?’

  He opened one eye and looked at her. ‘What are you offering?’

  Kay blushed. ‘I was thinking of a drink—maybe a mug of hot chocolate?’

  His other eye opened, and he grinned. ‘What a sweetheart you are.’

  ‘Is that a yes, then?’

  ‘Don’t you have any whisky?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Okay—hot chocolate it is, then.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and sit down in the living room? Here,’ she said, quickly cutting a thick slice of cake, ‘take this with you. Keep up your strength.’

  Oli eyed the plate proffered to him and nodded before leaving the kitchen. He hadn’t looked at all enthusiastic about the cake. Maybe it wasn’t as good as she first thought. No, he’s just tired, she thought. He puts all his energy into his work. You can’t expect boundless enthusiasm after hours, she told herself as she got a milk pan out from the cupboard.

  As she stirred a generous heap of cocoa powder into the milk and added sugar, she checked her reflection in a metal spatula and decided that a touch of lip gloss wouldn’t go amiss. She’d hidden one in the tea towel drawer for such occasions and brought it out. Then, placing the yellow mugs on a tray, she went to find Oli.

  He didn’t look up when she entered the living room. His eyes were closed, and Kay wondered if he’d fallen asleep on the sofa. It was easy for her to think that he was there as her boyfriend and not as a paying guest. That was the trouble with living in one’s workplace, she thought; lines were easily blurred.

  ‘Oli?’ she whispered, putting the tray on the coffee table in front of him.

  ‘Tibs?’

  Kay frowned. ‘It’s Kay.’

  He opened his eyes and smiled and was instantly forgiven.

  ‘Who’s Tibs? A cat?’

  Oli didn’t answer. ‘I forgot where I was there.’

  ‘I’ve got your chocolate,’ she said, handing him a mug. ‘It’s hot. Be careful.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, you haven’t eaten your cake,’ she said, her disappointment undisguised.

  Oli cleared his throat and leant forward. ‘Was just about to,’ he said.

  Kay smiled and did her best not to watch him like a hawk as he took his first bite.

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘Delicious,’ he said, wolfing down the rest of it.

  ‘I made it for you,’ she said and then blushed. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out.

  ‘Did you? What a doll you are!’

  ‘So, how was your day?’ she asked.

  ‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?’ he said.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Kay lied; she’d have loved to have heard all about his day on the set. Instead, she watched as he downed his hot chocolate in one long gulp. The door opened, and Les Miserable came in followed by Teresa and a hobbling Beth.

  Kay got up to greet them. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  Teresa didn’t answer, and Beth shook her head and almost crashed into the hallway table. Only Les answered.

  ‘Don’t worry about us,’ he said. ‘We’ve all eaten.’

  ‘There’s some cake if you want it,’ Kay said and watched everyone file upstairs. ‘Guess not.’

  Oli appeared in the doorway. He watched the retreating figures.

  ‘Good night,’ he called up after them.

  ‘’Night,’ Les called.

  ‘’Night, Oli, sweetheart,’ Beth said, turning around and flashing a scarlet-painted smile at him.

  Teresa didn’t say anything.

  ‘I need some air,’ Oli said. ‘You want to come with me?’

  Kay nodded. It was an easy decision to make.

  ***

  Gemma did not go back to the bed and breakfast after she and Oli left Monmouth Beach. She hung back somewhere along Marine Parade and then doubled back to buy herself an ice cream from a nearby shop that was still open. She knew she should eat something proper, but she couldn’t face a crowded pub that evening—not when her mother might make her presence felt at any given moment—so Gemma took her strawberry cornet and sat down on the low wall that overlooked the beach, kicking her shoes off and feeling the sand beneath her toes.

  It almost felt as if she were on holiday, a feeling she hadn’t had for a number of years now. Not since—when? That terrible trip to Spain with a friend who abandoned her as soon as she clapped eyes on that handsome DJ. Why did so much of a woman’s life revolve around men? It was the same in Jane Austen’s time, but surely things had moved on since then. After all, a woman didn’t need a man anymore. She could make her own way in the world now, so why did modern-day heroines insist on finding a hero? Couldn’t a girl be happy on her own?

  No, a little voice said. Life would be pretty dull without them.

  No, it wouldn’t, Gemma thought. It would be calm and contented. It would be a place free from impossible crushes and gut-wrenching heartache, and it would allow you to focus on other things, like your work.

  But you don’t like your work, the little voice said.

  Then I’d have more time to find out what it is I really want.

  ‘Hello,’ another voice said—one from outside her private thoughts. She looked up, and there stood Rob, a great fat ice cream in his hand. ‘Great minds and all that,’ he said. ‘Is this wall taken?’

  Gemma shrugged, and he took it as invitation enough.

  ‘Mint chocolate chip,’ he said with a wink. ‘Best flavour in the world. What’s yours?’

  ‘Strawberry.’

  ‘And I had you down as a double chocolate sort of a girl.’

  ‘Did you?’

  He nodded, and Gemma didn’t like to ask what made him draw such a conclusion about her taste buds.

  ‘You didn’t want to join the others in the pub?’ he said, motioning to The Harbour Inn behind them.

  Gemma shook her head. ‘Too much noise.’

  ‘And it’s been a noisy day too, hasn’t it? I mean on the set.’

  Gemma nodded.

  Rob gave a long, low whistle. ‘I don’t think we’ll ever get this film finished,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, don’t say that!’

  His eyebrows rose at her exclamation. ‘You know, you’re the least likely actress I’ve ever met.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Gemma said, immediately on the defensive.

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t get me wrong, because I didn’t mean you couldn’t act—I think you’re one of the best actresses we have in this country, and I’d be very surprised if Hollywood didn’t snap you up and whisk you away, but—well—it doesn’t seem to suit you.’

  Gemma frowned. ‘I don’t know what you
’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ Rob said, completely undeterred by her unwillingness to engage with him on the subject. ‘I’ve been watching you, and—’ he held his hand up as he tried to deflect the glare directed at him by such an admission, ‘I can’t help noticing how unhappy you look. Don’t deny it! I’ve seen you.’

  Gemma didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. Acting was nerve-wracking enough without knowing that people were watching you off set as well as on.

  ‘Watch it!’ Rob pointed to her ice cream. ‘You’ve got a drip—right there!’

  ‘Where?’

  Rob laughed. ‘The other side,’ he said, pointing to her cone.

  Gemma twisted it around, but not before the drip travelled the length of her arm, leaving a brilliant pink squiggle behind.

  ‘Can’t take you anywhere, can we?’ Rob said, his eyes crinkling in delight.

  Gemma opened her handbag, reached in to retrieve a clean tissue, and dabbed at the strawberry trail. ‘What a mess!’ she said.

  ‘All part of the seaside experience,’ Rob said.

  Gemma finished tidying herself up and then thought it best that she ate the rest of her ice cream as quickly as possible before there were any further strawberry-related incidents.

  ‘How’s the knitting going?’ Rob asked, eyeing the contents of her bag. Gemma reached down and closed it. Had he been secretly watching her knitting as well?

  He frowned. ‘Can’t I take a look?’

  ‘It’s—it’s not finished.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a look.’

  ‘No, really, it’s not—’

  He reached down and opened her bag, reaching inside and lifting out the little pink jacket. ‘Well, I never!’ he said. ‘This is good. Better than my mum’s, and she was the best. I had four sisters and two brothers, and my mum knitted all our clothes until we went to college. Actually, she insisted we still wore her clothes then too. I think she would have knitted my sisters’ wedding dresses if she thought she could get away with it.’

  Gemma laughed.

  ‘You could probably make a living from this, you know,’ he said.

  Gemma almost choked. She’d been wondering the very same thing herself for ages. She knew it didn’t sound very glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t on a par with acting, as far as public recognition was concerned, but all Gemma wanted to do was sit at home and knit. She had constant daydreams of the garments she could create and drew little designs on the back of her script. She thought of all the luxurious wools and the glorious colours she could bring together, but could she really make a living from it? ‘Teresa likes it too,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ Rob said. ‘It’s wonderful. You really should pursue it. Maybe create a website and sell on the Internet. I think it would be great.’

  Gemma found that she was smiling. She had never talked to anyone about her secret dreams.

  ‘You should give it a go—if you’re serious about it.’

  ‘Oh, I am,’ Gemma said.

  ‘I can tell,’ he said. ‘And I believe you can make a go of anything, if you put your mind to it. It’s like your acting. You’re really good, Gemma, but I can see your heart isn’t in it.’

  She stared at him for a moment. He had the most intense eyes she’d ever seen, and they seemed to be staring right into her very soul. Who was this man who seemed to know more about knitting than the Northanger Abbey Henry Tilney knew about muslin?

  ‘Look what you’ve achieved in your acting career so far,’ Rob said.

  ‘But this is only my first film,’ Gemma protested.

  ‘But you did the TV film too.’

  ‘I know that, but it wasn’t very—’

  ‘You’re always putting yourself down,’ he interrupted, ‘but you’ve achieved so much. What I’m trying to say is that you’ve done all that without having your heart in it. Just imagine what you could do if you really put your mind to it.’

  Gemma realised that she was smiling. ‘You really think I could do it?’

  ‘I really do.’

  ‘You’re funny,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you could be getting the pints in with the lads, but you’re sitting on a wall eating ice cream and talking about knitted jumpers.’

  He leaned towards her a little and smiled. ‘I’m with you,’ he said. ‘And that’s all that matters.’ Before Gemma could say anything, he leaned forward and kissed her. Gemma was taken completely by surprise, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she closed her eyes and kissed him back, the harsh shriek of the gulls filling the air around them.

  She could taste the faintest trace of mint chocolate chip, and she wondered if he was enjoying her strawberry-flavoured lips as much.

  Chapter 36

  The light was fading as Kay and Oli left Wentworth House and an inky night was creeping in from the sea and sky. The harbour looked magical at night. The water looked almost violet. Not for the first time, Kay felt thankful that she could call Lyme Regis her home. It was a bittersweet feeling, though, because her good fortune had come at a cost—her dear friend Peggy’s life. She missed Peggy. There were so many moments in every day that she thought about her dear friend. How Kay wished she could tell her about Oli! Peggy would love Oli; Kay knew she would. For a moment, Kay wondered what it would be like introducing Oli to her. She would have been able to tell he was the perfect hero, even though her eyesight had been appalling at the end.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ Oli asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  ‘A friend of mine,’ she said. ‘She would have loved you.’

  Oli smiled. ‘Would have?’

  ‘She died.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Oli said.

  ‘So am I,’ Kay said. ‘She was a sweetheart.’

  ‘And so are you,’ Oli said, picking up Kay’s hand and bringing it to his lips. Kay gasped.

  ‘I’m not in disguise,’ she said, realising that they’d come out without a single wig or pair of dark glasses between them. For a moment, Kay thought Oli was going to say that he didn’t want their love disguised anymore and he didn’t care how many paparazzi might be hiding behind the Cobb wall—he was going to flaunt his love for her in front of the whole world. But he didn’t.

  ‘It’s pretty dark now,’ he said. ‘I’d be very surprised if anyone recognised me.’

  Kay blinked. He still wasn’t happy about being seen with her, was he? But could she really blame him? Imagine what would happen if their relationship were discovered. Kay would be swept up in chaos. It would be a media frenzy in Lyme Regis with journalists camping out on the doorstep of Wentworth House and photographers snapping her when she tried to go shopping. She’d hate that, wouldn’t she? That’s what Oli was trying to protect her from, wasn’t it? He had nothing but her best interests at heart.

  As they walked along the front, a magical moon shone high in the sky above the sea and was reflected in it perfectly. The warm night had brought out the crowds, and happy voices were heard wafting from the pubs and the restaurants along the front, but Oli was right—nobody seemed to be paying them much attention. They were just another couple enjoying the night air.

  Like with most people, the pull of the Cobb was inevitable, and they soon found themselves climbing the steps onto its stone bulk. Kay sighed with pleasure. In her short time as a resident, she had climbed onto the Cobb many times and always got a thrill. She loved looking back across the harbour from its height and spying the yellow walls of her beloved home. She adored the almost Mediterranean view across the bay to Golden Cap and the equally magnificent view of the Undercliff, which stretched into verdant Devon. There also was the uninterrupted view of the sea ahead of them, but all this was muted in deep blues, for the sun was long gone.

  Oli had his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, and Kay wished he were holding her hand again. Still, it was amazing being there right then, walking along the Cobb with Captai
n Wentworth.

  You must stop thinking of him like that! her inner voice said.

  But I can’t help it, Kay thought. Persuasion was one of her favourite novels, and here she was with its hero.

  But he isn’t the hero. He’s just an actor.

  I know. I know! Let me fantasise for a moment, won’t you? Kay glanced at Oli. He was staring out to sea. She wished she could read his thoughts, but she didn’t interrupt him by asking him questions.

  It was just amazing to be walking along Jane Austen’s Cobb. It wasn’t really Jane Austen’s Cobb—it was an ancient monument, after all, but wouldn’t Austen fans always think of it as being Jane’s? A few literary traitors might think of the Cobb as belonging to John Fowles, but Jane got there first, and nobody would ever be able to rival her portrayal of it in fiction.

  Kay loved that she was following the same curve of stone and seeing the same views that Jane Austen would have seen. What had she thought when she was walking here? Kay wondered. Had she known she would write about it one day and set one of her most moving love stories here? Had Captain Wentworth swept by her on her visit to Lyme? Kay remembered that Jane had visited in 1803 and 1804 but hadn’t written Persuasion until 1816, which meant a gap of twelve or thirteen years. The place had obviously stayed with her during those years of absence, weaving a wondrous spell in her memory until she was ready to write her story.

  Before Kay knew it, they had walked right to the end of the Cobb.

  ‘It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?’ she said as they looked out across the rocks into the flat expanse of endless sea.

  ‘What’s that?’ Oli said, turning around.

  ‘I said it’s a beautiful night.’

  Oli looked up at the moon and nodded, as if he were seeing it for the first time.

  ‘You’ve been miles away,’ she said. ‘What are you thinking about?’

  He frowned. ‘Women always ask that, don’t they?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Kay said. ‘No woman’s ever asked me that.’

  He grinned. ‘You’re lovely,’ he said. ‘Shall we head back? You must be cold.’