resigned to their imposed celibacy and the long evening ahead. ‘It’s time we went downstairs and joined the others.’
***
The dining room table at Cleremont was so long that it could’ve easily doubled as an airplane runway, Holly reflected as she took a seat in the eighteenth-century chair Hugh held out for her.
She glimpsed more tall windows, more claw-footed chairs and sideboards, more enormous (and no doubt priceless) paintings hung on walls that were painted a deep Chinese red.
‘Do the film crew stay here in the house while they’re filming?’ she asked, and reached out for her water glass.
‘Oh, dear me, no.’ Sarah let out a shocked little laugh. ‘They stay in trailers behind the estate office, or at the local hotel. They aren’t allowed to move so much as a stick of furniture when they film here, not without permission. And certainly, no eating,’ she added with a shudder. ‘Too many antiquities, you understand.’
She smiled at Holly in polite condescension, making it plain that she didn’t expect someone as middle class as the James girl to understand, at all.
‘Do you remember the Sheraton table?’ Lord Darcy said to his wife. He glanced at Holly. ‘Several years ago, when they were here at Cleremont filming Tess of the d’Urbervilles, a costume assistant decided to iron a maid’s apron… and used an eighteenth-century gaming table built by Thomas Sheraton to do it. The surface was ruined.’
‘No, Richard,’ his wife corrected, ‘you’re mistaken. I’m sure it was Far from the Madding Crowd, and you’re thinking of the demi-lune Hepplewhite card table.’
He folded his napkin across his lap with deliberate motions. ‘I’m not mistaken. I may be getting on a bit but I’m hardly senile. It was Tess and it was the bloody Sheraton.’
A frosty silence descended on the table. Holly glanced across at Hugh in mild alarm.
‘I’d like to make an announcement, if I may,’ Hugh said quickly, and reached out for his glass of wine.
‘Oh, yes, your announcement,’ Harry said, and leaned forward in anticipation. ‘Wait, don’t tell us! You’ve decided you don’t want the title when Dad pops his clogs after all, and instead plan to hunt big game. And so you’ve come home to announce that you’re giving Cleremont over to me and you’re leaving for Africa,’ he joked. ‘With Holly, of course.’
‘Harry, really,’ his mother reproved. ‘This isn’t the time or the place for your little jokes.’
‘Sorry, but I’ve no plans for big game hunting in my future.’ Hugh smiled at Holly, seated next to him, and lifted his glass. ‘I’ve already landed the most spectacular prize any man could possibly want,’ he added.
Holly could have pointed out that perhaps referring to her as a ‘prize’ in this day and age was a bit – well, sexist – but she remained silent as Hugh went on with his announcement.
‘I met Holly last summer while I was working at Dashwood and James – the department stores her father, Alastair, owns,’ he added. He glanced at Holly with a wry smile. ‘It wasn’t exactly love at first sight, was it, darling?’
‘No,’ she agreed, and smiled back at him. ‘At first I thought Hugh was a bit stuffy. Not to mention incredibly opinionated. I was engaged – briefly – to Ciaran Duncan, the film star. Hugh tried to warn me away from him,’ she added, and took a fortifying sip of wine. ‘More than once, in fact. But of course I didn’t listen, until it was nearly too late.’
‘Oh. How extraordinary,’ his mother remarked, and flicked a glance at Holly, then back at her eldest son. ‘You never mentioned that Miss James was engaged.’
‘She isn’t, any more,’ Hugh said. ‘At least,’ he added quietly, ‘not to Ciaran.’
‘And thank God for that,’ Holly muttered, and suppressed a shudder. She couldn’t forget how the handsome actor had tried to blackmail her into marrying him, all so he could get his hands on her father’s money. Tosser.
‘Still – as you said, Miss James, Ciaran’s a film star, and quite a famous one,’ Lady Darcy observed. Her smile was patronising. ‘I’m surprised you let him go. You do know he’s here, filming at Cleremont, do you not?’ she added. ‘Perhaps you two can renew your acquaintance.’
‘Ciaran and I are over,’ Holly said, her words polite but firm. ‘Finished. Through.’
‘It’s all in the past,’ Hugh agreed. ‘Love prevailed, and now…’ He paused. ‘I’d like to raise a toast to my fiancée and bride-to-be, Holly James.’
There was a moment of surprised silence.
Then, ‘Here, here,’ Lord Darcy exclaimed, and lifted his glass.
‘Here, here,’ Harry echoed, and grinned. ‘Congratulations, you two! Well done, you sly dog,’ he added as he glanced at his brother. ‘I thought you’d be a bachelor well into your dotage. Didn’t think you’d ever get married.’
Holly realised that Lady Darcy had said nothing. She glanced at Hugh’s mother, seated at the head of the table beside her husband, and her smile faltered.
Sarah’s hand gripped the stem of her wine glass with white-tipped knuckles…
…and her expression could only be called grim.
‘Congratulations,’ Hugh’s mother said after a moment, and managed to produce a small, tight smile. ‘What very exciting news.’
‘Yes,’ Hugh agreed, his eyes lingering on Holly as they all drank to the couple’s heath. ‘Very exciting. However, I must ask that you all refrain from telling anyone else the news, at least just yet.’
‘What on earth for?’ his mother asked, and frowned. She cast Holly a scandalised glance. ‘You’re not…?’
Holly coloured. ‘No, I’m not,’ she retorted, and laid a hand atop her perfectly flat stomach. To be honest, she was getting just a bit annoyed with her ladyship’s poor opinion of her. She doesn’t even know me, Holly thought. It was all très unfair.
‘It’s just that…’ Hugh stopped.
He looked a bit uncomfortable, Holly noticed, and she wondered why he didn’t want to relay word of their engagement far and wide.
‘Just what?’ Holly prodded.
‘I want to tell Elizabeth the news first,’ he said, his words measured as he returned to his seat.
‘Who’s Elizabeth?’ she wondered. Although she kept her voice neutral as she asked the question, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of disquiet.
‘Elizabeth Bennet,’ Harry supplied. He paused as a servant brought the soup tureen round, and he served himself a generous measure of the pale pink crab bisque.
Holly
