father, Mr Bennet, was our vicar,’ Sarah explained. ‘He’s retired now.’ She sipped her wine. ‘The girls were a rather… late arrival, as he was unmarried for quite a few years. I must introduce you to the family at church on Sunday, Miss James.’
‘Forgive me, Hugh,’ Holly said, choosing for the moment to ignore her ladyship, ‘but why, exactly, don’t you want this Elizabeth Bennet to know that we’re engaged?’
‘It’s not that I don’t want her to know we’re engaged,’ he hedged. ‘It’s just… I need to break the news to her myself, first, because…’
‘Because Elizabeth fancies herself in love with my brother,’ Harry cut in. ‘Or at least, she used to do. I imagine she still does.’
‘Is that true?’ Holly asked. She met Hugh’s eyes. ‘Is she in love with you?’
‘Once upon a time, perhaps,’ he admitted, and picked up his spoon. ‘But it was ages ago, and it was gratitude, not love, only because I helped Miss Bennet through a difficult time after her mother died. She was sixteen.’ He laid his spoon back down and cleared his throat. ‘I mean to say, Miss Bennet was sixteen. Not her mother. Obviously.’
‘That’s not how I remember it,’ Harry said, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. ‘The pair of you were inseparable, as I recall.’
‘Enough, Harry.’ Lady Darcy spoke quietly, but her words were firm. ‘Of course we’ll keep the engagement to ourselves, darling, if that’s what you wish,’ she assured Hugh. ‘Until such time as you tell Elizabeth…’ She gave Holly a pained smile. ‘Until you can share your happy news with her.’
***
The next morning dawned clear and warm, and as Lizzy let herself outside, her hands cupping a mug of tea, she breathed in the scent of hydrangeas and honeysuckle that hung on the air.
The terrace flagstones were warm and smooth beneath her bare feet as she joined the others and sat down, oblivious to the sounds of birdsong from the nearby woods. ‘Good morning.’
As she’d expected, her father and sisters were sprawled – well, only Charlotte was actually sprawled – in chairs, sipping coffee or tea and reading the newspapers.
‘Good morning, my dear.’ Mr Bennet stood and bent down to brush his lips briefly atop her head. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. I’m off to the village for my morning ride.’
‘Must you ride that old bicycle through the village every day?’ Emma complained. ‘You look like Father Brown.’
‘I can think of worse things,’ he replied, unperturbed. ‘Although Father Brown really should wear a helmet when he rides. Safety,’ he tutted, then left.
Emma rustled her paper in annoyance but didn’t bother to respond.
‘What are your plans today, Charli?’ Lizzy asked her youngest sister as their father trudged off. ‘Are you going to the circus in Torquay?’
‘Dunno.’ She didn’t look up from her perusal of Hello! ‘Ooh, look at this! It says here that Ciaran Duncan’s right next door at Cleremont, filming Pride and Prejudice.’
‘Yes. I saw him yesterday.’
Charli gasped and flung her magazine aside. ‘What? You saw him and you didn’t tell me? Did you talk to him? What did he look like? Is he as gorgeous in person as he is on screen?’
‘I didn’t think it was worthy of mention,’ she said, and lifted her brow. ‘We didn’t speak; he was studying a script. And he looked exactly like Mr Wickham, in his breeches and boots and regimentals. And yes, he’s very handsome.’ She frowned. ‘Wasn’t he engaged to that department store heiress last year? The blonde one, what was her name…?’
‘Holly James.’ Charlotte retrieved her Hello! magazine and began flicking once again through the pages. ‘Yes, they were engaged for about ten minutes. I often wonder why they broke up after only a week. I bet there’s a story there.’
‘Who knows?’ Lizzy said, and shrugged. ‘Actors are odd ducks. From what I’ve heard, Ciaran is the perfect choice to play Mr Wickham. He’s a player, and not just onstage.’
‘Well, of course he is,’ Charli said, and smirked. ‘I wouldn’t mind playing with him.’
Lizzy frowned. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s far too old for you, and he has a very bad reputation. Besides, he wouldn’t give you a second glance, not with Cara Winslow and all those other pretty actresses in his orbit.’
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. ‘I bet he would. I bet he’d give me a second glance, and perhaps even a third.’
‘Well, you won’t be finding out,’ Lizzy retorted, ‘at least, not today. We’re all going to the circus.’
‘What fun,’ Emma said, deadpan.
‘It will be fun.’ Lizzy, her mind made up that she and her sisters were going to the circus, glanced at Emma. ‘We can all go, you and me and Charli, and spend the day together. It’ll be like old times.’
Like it was before their mother died, she meant. When they used to do things together as a family.
‘Sorry, but I’m going out to lunch with Harry later,’ Emma said, not sorry at all. ‘Which reminds me – I need to start getting ready.’ She picked up her tea and newspapers and departed without another word.
‘Cow,’ Lizzy said, but without much feeling, and glanced at her sister. ‘What about you, Charli? You and I can still go, make a day of it. Stuff our faces with chips and Chupa Chups.’
Charlotte laid her magazine aside with a sigh. ‘I suppose we could. I don’t much like the circus, but I can’t bear the thought of sitting here like a saddo all day.’
The two girls got dressed and left a note on the kitchen table for Mr Bennet to say they’d borrowed his Mini, and drove themselves into the bustling seaside town of Torquay to spend their day at the circus.
***
It was late afternoon when Lizzy and Charlotte, sunburnt and feeling faintly nauseated from too much sugar and not nearly enough sun cream, returned home with peeling noses and aching feet. The stuffed giraffe and hedgehog they’d won were tossed on the back seat, and their faces were sheened with perspiration.
‘I’m going upstairs to have a lie down,’ Charli said. ‘I feel awful.’ She eyed Lizzy in pity. ‘Ugh! You’re as pink as a lobster.’
Lizzy groaned. Why did she never remember to wear a sunhat?
‘Had fun, did you?’ Mr Bennet asked as he glided up on his bicycle and dismounted.
‘We did. And don’t tell me you’ve been out riding this entire time,’ Lizzy said in surprise.
‘No. I rode over to say hello to Araminta Hornsby. And to take her some scones I made this morning.’
Poor woman. ‘And who is Araminta Hornsby?’ she asked, curious. ‘I’ve
