‘What?’ Mia asked.
‘It’s all happening so quickly. I don’t know if I’m ready.’
‘Nobody thinks they’re ready, Sarah. Nobody can be ready - not really - because it’s such a huge thing to happen.’ Mia laughed. ‘And I don’t mean to scare you because it’s the most wonderful thing in the world to happen. You’ve just got to give in to it and go along for the ride.’
‘But I’ve never given in to anything. I’ve always been in control,’ Sarah said.
‘Yes, I know, but you’re not in control now. That little person growing inside you is in control and you’ve got to take a back seat,’ Mia told her. ‘I know that’s going to be really hard for you but it’s the only way you’ll get through all this and keep sane.’
‘I don’t know if I can do that,’ Sarah said, her shoulders sagging.
‘Of course you can. If I can do it, you most certainly can!’
‘But motherhood is different for you,’ Sarah said. ‘You’re a natural.’
‘But you will be too,’ Mia said.
‘No, I won’t. I’ll be terrible!’
‘Of course you won’t be. You can’t be any worse than me. You’ve seen the chaos I live in.’
Sarah nodded, thinking of the little terrace in Bath she shared with Gabe and how it had been transformed from a neat bachelor pad into a toddler’s paradise since Mia had descended with little William.
‘Exactly my point,’ Sarah said. ‘You like chaos. Chaos suits you but it doesn’t suit me. I don’t know if I’m really cut out to be a mother.’
‘Sarah – you’ll be a brilliant mother!’ Mia assured her.
She shook her head. ‘But how will I cope with all the mess? A baby is messy, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but with you and Lloyd as parents, it’s bound to be born with OCD already built in. It will probably be the tidiest baby in the world.’
‘You think so?’
Mia nodded. ‘It’ll be changing its own nappy and have the house all set to rights before you and Lloyd are even out of bed in the morning.’
Sarah laughed.
Mia rested her head upon her sister’s shoulder. ‘Do you know if it’s a boy or girl yet?’
‘No,’ Sarah said.
‘Are you going to find out?’
‘No. We’ve decided to wait.’
‘And have you got any names in mind?’
Sarah sighed. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said.
‘Let me guess – Elinor for a girl and Edward for a boy.’
‘How did you guess?’ Sarah asked in amazement.
Mia laughed. ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly rocket science! Does Lloyd approve?’
‘He’d be happy with any name, I think. I could call it Lydia or Wickham and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.’
‘You’re going to be great parents,’ Mia said.
‘And you’re going to be a great aunt,’ Sarah said.
Mia smiled and Sarah knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘Just like Jane Austen,’ she said and Sarah nodded.
Katherine was late getting up. It made a nice change from her college timetable with her early morning starts, driving through the Oxfordshire countryside and then walking through the streets of Oxford to St Bridget’s College.
‘What’s it looking like out there?’ she asked from the deep, warm folds of bedding as Warwick drew the thick red and gold curtains back.
‘Deep and crisp and even,’ he said. ‘The perfect Christmas Eve.’
‘Come back to bed!’
‘I’ve just got to write something down.’
Katherine sighed. Warwick was like a jack-in-the-box when he was writing the first draft of a novel. Meals were interrupted, phone calls were cut short and he’d be in and out of bed several times a night sometimes.
She watched as he reached for a notebook and scribbled something down in his scratchy handwriting that she frequently made fun of.
‘You really should’ve become a doctor with your handwriting,’ she teased.
‘As long as I can read it,’ he said, closing the notebook a moment later. ‘Okay, what’s on the programme this morning?’
‘I suppose it’s too cold for the “Undressing Mr Darcy” session, isn’t it?’ Katherine said.
Warwick grinned at her. ‘Probably but you might be in luck because I hear there’s an “Undressing Warwick Lawton” show instead.’
‘Oh, really?’ Katherine said with an arched eyebrow.
‘Yep!’ he said, slowly peeling off the jumper he’d put on for his early morning writing session. ‘Only this session is for an audience of just one.’
‘Let me think,’ Katherine said. ‘Can Warwick Lawton possibly compete with Mr Darcy?’
Warwick strode across the room and leapt into bed beside Katherine. ‘You’re forgetting something very important,’ he said.
‘What’s that?’
‘Mr Darcy can’t do this to you.’ And with that, he kissed her for a very long time indeed.
After breakfast, there was a demonstration on bonnet trimming in the library and everyone was given their very own bonnet - even the men. Dame Pamela had arranged the most gorgeous array of ribbons, feathers, artificial flowers and fruit including grapes, cherries, plums and apricots – just the fruits Jane Austen had once noted in a letter to her sister, Cassandra. Indeed, every Janeite in the room picked up on this immediately and started quoting ‘flowers are very much worn and fruit is still more the thing’.
There was a bit of a scrum for the prettiest pieces of ribbon with the sky-blue, rose-pink and purple being the most popular. There was also some very pretty pieces of lace and, once everybody had gathered everything they needed, the serious task of bonnet trimming began.
It had to be said that there were some members of the group who seemed born to trim a bonnet and others who struggled. Doris Norris was a natural with a needle and thread and her little bonnet was blooming with a pretty cluster of flowers in next to no time whereas Mrs Soames was definitely struggling, her large fingers causing her to curse. At one point, she turned as red as the strawberry she was trying to sew onto her bonnet and the tutor had to step in before she did irreparable damage.
Sarah’s bonnet was an elegant, understated masterpiece of green ribbon and red and gold flowers whereas Mia had crammed as much as possible onto hers.
‘Your head can’t possibly support all that fruit,’ Sarah warned her.
‘But I can’t bear to choose between any of it. It’s all so gorgeous!’
And Warwick was doing very well indeed until he came to do a ruffled ribbon trim and then he became all fingers and thumbs. Even Jackson Moore was having a go but he wasn’t as calm-headed as Warwick and kept cursing under his breath and twitching his moustache as he dropped all of his strawberries and then several cherries on the floor.
Finally, after everyone had finished, a central aisle was cleared and a mini fashion show was held with everyone modelling their bonnets to great applause. Dame Pamela then declared Mia the winner.
‘For her wit and ambition in using every possible ingredient on her bonnet!’ Her prize was a book about Regency costume full of exquisite illustrations. Mia was delighted and couldn’t resist teasing Sarah who was still of the opinion that her sister’s bonnet had more fruit than any head had a right to.
After lunch, there was meant to be a talk on music in Jane Austen’s time but the speaker hadn’t been able to attend because of the snow so it was decided that there’d be a showing of the 2005 film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice instead and nobody complained. Well, nobody except Mrs Soames.
‘I don’t know what anybody sees in that version. That Mr Darcy is still wet behind the ears!’ But she watched it all the same, harrumphing every time Matthew Macfadyen strode onto the screen only to be shushed by everybody else in the room.
Dame Pamela was too nervous to sit down and watch the film with everybody. She was pacing in her study, fretting over what Higgins had said to her. He’d planted a nasty
little seed of doubt in her mind and now she was wringing her hands like a bad actress.
‘But what does Higgins know?’ she said to the empty study. He was one of the most cautious people she’d ever met and was one of the few people she’d ever been able to count on in her life for good, solid advice but what did she really know about him? He’d been in her employment for so long that she didn’t know of any life outside of Purley Hall for Higgins. His parents had died a long time ago and he had a sister in a care home in Devon. He’d never married, never talked about relationships and only took two weeks holiday a year which was always spent in the same holiday cottage on the north Norfolk coast.
But, whatever Higgins’s background, he had no business telling her what to do. Who was running this conference – him or her? He should stick to his own job, she told herself with an emphatic nod of the head. And, with her mind made up, she reached across her desk and picked up the item that had been causing so much trouble between them and placed it in her handbag.
Chapter 10
The great fireplace in the dining room had been lit and the orange flames licked over chunky logs, giving a homely feel to the grand room. Each table setting had the new white crockery edged with gold, bright silver cutlery, one crystal glass for water and a ruby-red one for wine. There was a cream linen napkin and an elegant cracker in emerald and gold and there were candles everywhere – snow-white and slim in silver candelabra and great fat red ones were lined along the fireplace.
Sparkling glass platters were piled high with oranges studded with cloves which scented the warm air, and there were pomegranates, grapes and pears, heaped and polished.
‘Are we meant to eat those?’ Mia asked Sarah.
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Sarah said, envisaging an avalanche of fruit if one so much as poked a grape.
‘What’s it going to look like on Christmas Day itself?’ Mia said.
‘Well, we don’t have long to find out,’ Sarah said.
Mia smiled. ‘I still feel so awful leaving Will and Gabe to come here.’
‘And Lloyd,’ Sarah said.
‘But I guess they’ve got to get used to life with a Janeite,’ Mia said. ‘We do need these little treats every now and then.’
On the other side of the room, Cassie lay in an old-fashioned pram which her doting Aunt Pamela had bought her, and Robyn and Dan sat either side of her.
‘I will never get over how beautiful Purley is,’ Robyn said to Dan. ‘Do you ever get used to it?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s something you never take for granted,’ he said. ‘It’s like a daily gift.’
Robyn nodded. ‘I don’t ever want to leave.’
‘You don’t have to,’ he said and they smiled at each other as if they’d already been given the best Christmas present in the world.
Benedict, who was sitting beside Robyn, looked at the pair of them and chuckled. Young love, he thought, remembering the time he’d leapt into marriage and leapt straight back out almost as quickly.
After dinner, a hush descended as Dame Pamela stood up at the head of the table. She was wearing a dress in royal blue and had a pair of sapphire and diamond earrings dangling from her ears, the stones as large as birds’ eggs.
‘And now, I have something I’ve been dying to share with you,’ she announced. ‘It’s a little Christmas present I bought for myself and I couldn’t wait a moment longer before telling you about it. You might have read about it in the news. It came up for auction in September although the buyer wasn’t named in the press.’
Everybody started whispering madly around the table. What could it be? It couldn’t possibly be what they thought it was. Or could it? They waited in hushed anticipation as Higgins handed Dame Pamela a gift wrapped in bright gold paper with a thick crimson ribbon tied around it. Dame Pamela slowly untied the ribbon and unwrapped the hidden gift.
‘It’s book-shaped,’ Rose whispered from the end of the table. ‘I know a book at fifty paces.’
The guests leaned forward, necks craning to get their first glimpse of whatever Dame Pamela had bought at auction. Jackson Moore’s eyes were out on stalks and Sarah was drumming her fingers on the linen tablecloth in anticipation. It couldn’t be, could it? That’s what everyone was thinking.
Sure enough, as the final fold of gold paper fell away to reveal a protective layer of fine tissue paper, they saw a book – or rather three books - but they weren’t just any books – they looked old. About two hundred years old.
‘It’s the first edition!’ Roberta screamed and everybody gasped, instantly knowing she was right. It would have been a very poor Jane Austen fan who hadn’t heard of the auction at Sotheby’s in September where a rare first edition of Pride and Prejudice had been sold to an anonymous bidder for a little under one hundred and eighty thousand pounds. And here it was, in this very room, in front of them, breathing the same air as them. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy – the first editon. The first book that had been sent out into the world to find its audience.
To look at it, you’d never know how very precious it was. It comprised of three slim volumes in dull brown boards with signs of water damage, and the spines were rough and had obviously seen some repairs. If it had been in a box at a car boot sale, most people wouldn’t have looked twice at it but this book had journeyed from 1813 to be with them today and it was a most welcome guest.
‘It’s probably not a good idea to pass it around at the dining table but there will be an opportunity for you all to get a closer look at it later,’ Dame Pamela promised as she wrapped up the three editions once more.
‘How extraordinary!’ Doris Norris said.
‘I can’t believe it!’ Katherine said.
‘Truly wonderful!’ Gemma enthused.
Dame Pamela left the room with the books and coffee was served.
‘I can’t believe she bought that first edition,’ Katherine said.
‘Why not when you’re as rich as Dame Pamela?’ Warwick said. ‘It’s too good an opportunity to miss.’
‘But think of the insurance!’ Katherine said.
‘Higgins has more than likely dealt with all the boring bits,’ Warwick said. ‘Dame Pamela’s probably got nothing more pressing to think about other than cherishing it.’
‘I can’t imagine owning something like that,’ Katherine said.
Warwick’s dark eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘But you already do.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘How many first edition Lorna Warwick’s do you own?’
‘Oh, Warwick! That’s not the same thing at all!’ Kay said.
He gave her a look of mock shock. ‘It might be – one day. Who’s to say which writers will be revered in two hundred years’ time. My books might become very valuable.’
Katherine laughed but then she took his hand in hers. ‘I’m sure they will be because you write wonderful stories.’
He smiled and took a sip of wine. Katherine watched as he drank and then her mind drifted back to the suitcase and his restless searching of the night before. As much as she loved him, she couldn’t help thinking that he was up to something.
There was a showing of Northanger Abbey that evening and a lively discussion ensued about the sexiness of JJ Feild as Henry Tilney. Was it true to Austen or had Andrew Davies been at it again with his naughty pen?
‘I think Henry Tilney is the sexiest of Austen’s heroes,’ Doris Norris said.
‘What about Mr Darcy?’ Rose asked.
‘Well, he has that reserved sort of attractiveness,’ Doris said. ‘It’s sexy but not overtly sexy, if you know what I mean.’
‘I think Henry Tilney should definitely have a twinkle in his eye,’ Mia said. ‘Remember when he’s dancing with Catherine and teasing her mercilessly? I've always imagined a naughty little smile in that scene.’
Discussion moved on - as it always did - to other Austen heroes.
‘Jeremy Northam has always been my favourite Mr Knightley and he would’ve made a w
onderful Tilney. His tone is just right,’ Roberta said. ‘He is serious yet subtle. Absolutely perfect.’
‘Having seen Jonny Lee Miller again last night, I rather prefer him,’ Doris Norris said.
‘Oh, he wasn't right at all,’ Mrs Soames said, her cheeks flaming in annoyance. ‘Too soft. Not enough of a match for Emma. Besides, he was blond.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Mia asked.
‘I don't think blond suits an Austen hero. Except Mr Bingley,’ Mrs Soames said.
‘So you didn't like Rupert Penry-Jones as Captain Wentworth?’ Mia said.
‘Captain Wentworth should not be blond,’ Mrs Soames asserted.
‘Why not? His hair might have been bleached blond by the exposure to the sun on his ship,’ Mia said.
‘But blond is so – well – feminine,’ Mrs Soames said.
Doris Norris gave a little chuckle. ‘I once went out with a blond man and there was nothing feminine about him, let me assure you,’ she said with a twinkle that was worthy of Henry Tilney himself.
‘Now I come to think of it, there aren't that many blond heroes at all, are there?’ Katherine said, enjoying the conversation immensely. It was just the sort of conversation she wouldn’t be able to condone at Oxford.
Everybody looked thoughtful for a moment.
‘There’s Daniel Craig,’ Rose suggested.
‘Hmmm,’ Roberta pondered. ‘I’m not at all convinced about a blond Bond.’
‘Colin Farrell went blond in Alexander,’ Gemma said.
‘And there was Dan Stevens in Sense and Sensibility,’ Katherine said.
‘But he was more feminine again - if you know what I mean,’ Roberta said.
‘Apart from that wood chopping scene,’ Mia said with a little giggle.
Christmas with Mr Darcy (an Austen Addicts story) Page 6
