What Would Lizzy Bennet Do? (15 page)

Charli had no sooner hit ‘send’ than another message from Ciaran popped up.

Meet me by trailers. Retake of Meryton scene in drawing room 2day. Can’t wait to see u again XXXX

With her thoughts whirling, Charli pushed herself up from the window seat and went to her wardrobe to choose the proper outfit for her rendezvous with Ciaran. She pulled out and discarded several tops, capris, pairs of shoes and straw hats until she found the perfect sundress – printed all over with demure primroses, its hem rising just above the knee but its boat neck showing her shoulders and chest to excellent advantage.

Next, she thrust her feet (freshly pedicured) into a pair of sandals and plonked a sunhat on her head. If the paparazzi happened to turn up to take photos this time, at least she’d be unrecognisable, so neither Daddy nor the general public would know who she was. The thought made her feel glamorous and worldly, and very clever.

Round oversized sunnies completed her outfit, and she was ready to go. She took up her mobile phone – mustn’t forget that! – and texted Ciaran once again.

On way. Meet u in 10 mins

He immediately replied.

Waiting by trailers. See u soon gorgeous girl xx C

With one last slick of lip gloss and one more glance in her dressing table mirror, Charlotte deemed herself ready for her secret assignation with Ciaran, and climbed – very quietly and very carefully – out of the window and hurried away across the soggy fields to Cleremont.

***

‘Tell me, Miss James,’ Lady de Byrne said over breakfast in the dining room the next morning, ‘how shall we amuse you during your enforced stay here at Rosings?’

‘I hardly think of my visit as “enforced”,’ Holly protested politely. ‘I’m grateful to be here, and I appreciate your kindness, welcoming me into your home. And I certainly don’t wish to be a bother.’

‘You’re unexpected, but you’re not a bother. I’m only sorry I couldn’t send a tray to your room to spare you the discomfort of sharing a table with me.’ She took a sip of her orange juice. ‘But the housekeeper is suffering with a megrim as well as a bout of arthritis, and couldn’t manage a trip upstairs.’

Holly hardly knew what to say. She was surprised at the older woman’s attempt to make a joke, and the unexpectedness of it – such an imposing, frankly
terrifying
woman having a sense of humour – well, it left her at a loss.

‘I’m perfectly fine,’ she assured Lady de Byrne after a moment. ‘If I take my time and avoid the stairs, I can manage very well.’ She glanced at the crutches the doctor had brought her. ‘The pain’s stopped and the swelling’s gone down considerably.’

‘Good. I despise doctors, but one must listen to what they say and occasionally even take their advice.’

‘Lizzy mentioned that she and her sisters might stop by later today with Hugh to visit me,’ Holly ventured when the silence had grown to an uncomfortable length. She laid her fork aside. ‘I hope that’s all right?’

Hugh’s godmother nodded and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. ‘Certainly. I should be interested to meet Elizabeth’s sisters. I’ve heard they’re very attractive, unlike their unfortunate father.’

‘I’ve only met Mr Bennet once, at church, but in his defence, he seems very nice.’

‘Oh, he is. He’s a wonderful man and very brave to raise those three girls alone following his wife’s death. But he is not, apparently, much of a baker.’

Holly smiled. ‘So I’ve heard.’

Lady de Byrne regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Miss James. I hope you don’t find it too tedious. I shall enjoy having a houseful of young people at Rosings once again. With my daughter, Imogen, grown and gone, and my husband dead, it’s too quiet by half.’

‘Is Imogen your only child?’

‘I’m sorry to say that Alfred and I were unable to have children of our own. Imogen is adopted.’

‘Oh.’ Holly flushed. ‘I didn’t know; I’m sorry.’

‘How could you possibly know?’ She pushed her chair back and rose. ‘There’s an excellent library just down the hall. You must make free use of it as you wish.’

‘Thank you, that’s very kind. I’m glad to be here.’ And, oddly enough, it was true, Holly realised. She
was
actually enjoying her stay so far.

‘Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ Lady Georgina said, ‘I must go and see to my garden. I need to choose some blooms for the vases in the hallway and drawing room. Mrs Jenkins,’ she called out sharply as she turned away and marched through the door that led back to the kitchen, ‘where have you hidden my secateurs?’

***

True to his word, Ciaran was waiting for Charli just outside his trailer when she arrived a short time later. He was resplendent in buckskin breeches and boots and he wore a regimental jacket of red, with a double row of gold buttons marching down his chest and wide black cuffs at his wrists.

Charlotte nearly swooned. He was droolingly handsome.

Ciaran bowed deeply before her. ‘Mr Wickham at your service, Miss Bennet,’ he drawled, and straightened to take her hand in his.

Charli giggled. ‘Any girl worth her Jane Austen knows you’re very bad news, Mr Wickham. I should turn and run in the opposite direction as fast as I can, straight back to my father.’

‘Indeed you should,’ he agreed, and brought her hand to his lips as his eyes lingered on hers. ‘But will you?’

She gazed up at him, mesmerised by the green-gold perfection of his eyes, and she was powerless to move. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I most definitely will not.’

***

Charlotte sat in the canvas-backed chair that Ciaran had found for her on set and tried her best to follow the conversation between Cara Winslow (Elizabeth) and Ciaran (Wickham, of course). But she found it hard going.

It wasn’t that Ciaran wasn’t an excellent actor. It was just nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else whenever he spoke. All she could focus on were those gorgeous, perfectly shaped lips of his…

…and all she could think about were those lips on hers.

She crossed her legs, uncrossing them again as her sundress rode dangerously high on her thighs. It wouldn’t do to distract Ciaran; he’d warned her that she must behave and remain absolutely quiet during filming, or the director would throw her off the set.

‘Why are they filming your scene over again, anyway?’ Charli had asked as she walked beside him to the set.

‘The lighting was wrong, too dark. That’s why I had to get up at the arse crack of dawn this morning and get in costume,’ Ciaran explained.

Her glance strayed to his breeches and boots. ‘It’s a very fine costume, though.’

He smiled, amused. ‘I’m glad you approve.’

Now, Charli moved restlessly in her seat. Sitting round here all morning was proving nearly as dull as spending time in her room. She hoped they’d take a break
soon
…

Her mobile chose just that moment to shrill out ‘All the Single Ladies’ – her sister Emma’s ringtone.

There was a shocked silence, then the director roared, ‘Cut! Whose bloody fucking phone is that?’

Mortified, Charli scrambled to shut off the sound and dropped the mobile back in her pocket. ‘Mine,’ she said in a small voice. ‘It’s mine. Sorry.’

‘Sorry?’ he shouted, and flung his headset aside to fix a glare of such venom on her that she trembled. ‘Your bloody ringtone just bollocksed up a perfect take! Now we have to retake the entire fucking scene! Who are you? Who let you in here?’

‘I – that is, I…’ Charli stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence, so frightened was she.

‘Her name is Charlotte Bennet, and she’s here under my authority,’ Ciaran said. He stood and looked at her. ‘I’m sure it won’t happen again, will it, Miss Bennet?’ he said, his words even and his meaning plain.

‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘No,’ she said again, more firmly. ‘Of course not. I’m very, very sorry.’

‘One more time,’ the director warned her, ‘and you’re out of here on your arse, Miss Bennet. Take ten, everyone.’

As the actors broke up to review their lines and get their make-up freshened, Ciaran strode purposefully towards her and took her arm. He frog-marched her off the set and out into the hallway.

‘What were you thinking?’ he hissed. ‘I specifically told you to turn off your bloody mobile!’

‘I – I’m sorry. I thought I had done. Stupid thing always does that, it’s so temperamental…’

‘Listen to me, you silly girl,’ Ciaran said in a low voice, his words tight with anger. ‘This is my profession, and I take it very seriously. I was good enough to get you in here to watch the filming; and you repay me by buggering up my scene with your bloody
phone
?’

She blinked away incipient tears. ‘I didn’t mean to do it, honestly.’ A small sob escaped her. ‘I – I’m sorry.’

They were starting to get a few curious glances.

Ciaran let out a short breath and reached in his pocket for a handkerchief, thrusting it at her. ‘Never mind. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. Just make sure your phone is turned off before we resume filming. Do you understand?’

Mutely, she nodded, and blew her nose.

‘Good girl. And when we’re done,’ he added, ‘I promise to take you someplace very exclusive for lunch.’

Charli brightened. ‘Really? Where?’

His smile was wry. ‘The craft services table. Sorry, but I’m stuck here for the rest of the day.’

‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘No matter. I can’t stay, at any rate. I’m meant to go with Emma and Lizzy to Rosings this afternoon, to visit Holly – Holly James,’ she clarified.

Ciaran’s smile froze. ‘I’m sorry. Did you just say that Holly
James
is here in South Devon?’

‘Yes.’ Charlotte looked at him in surprise. ‘Why? Do you know her? Oh, but of
course
you do!’ she exclaimed. ‘You two were engaged only last summer, weren’t you?’

‘We were, yes.’

‘Well, she’s engaged to Hugh Darcy now. They’re to be married soon.’ Her own smile faltered as she saw his expression. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘Three minutes, everyone,’ the set manager called out. ‘Places, please.’

‘I have to go.’ Ciaran, his face set, turned away. ‘We’ll talk later.’

‘Ciaran…’

But he strode away from her without turning around, his face like thunder and his back rigid, and took his place once again at the dining room table next to Cara Winslow to resume his role as Mr Wickham.

Chapter 21

Promptly at two o’clock that afternoon, Rosings’ doorbell rang, and Harry Darcy and the Bennet sisters arrived as promised.

‘But… where’s Hugh?’ Holly asked as Banks showed her visitors into the drawing room, where she sat on a loveseat with her foot resting on a pink cushion. ‘Not that I’m not
really
glad to see you all.’

‘He’s going over a few business matters with Dad,’ Harry answered. ‘A lot of boring Cleremont stuff that couldn’t wait, apparently. Then he’s coming here to take you to the doctor.’ He glanced at her ankle, wrapped in a compression bandage, and winced. ‘Ouch. How’s the foot? On the mend, I hope?’

‘I should be able to walk normally in another day or two. Until then…’ She glanced at the crutches resting against a small, circular Hepplewhite table and sighed. ‘I’m sharing the same mode of transportation as Tiny Tim. How’s your eye? The swelling’s gone down.’

He shrugged. ‘Like you, I’ll be right as rain in a day or two.’ He grinned. ‘The ladies love the black eye. They think it’s sexy.’

‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard,’ Emma said, and lifted her brow. ‘Next I suppose you’ll be wearing an eye patch and calling yourself “Hell-Raising Harry” or some such.’

‘Not a bad idea, actually.’

Lizzy sat down next to Holly. ‘Where’s the dragon?’ she whispered,
sotto voce
. ‘Is she making life difficult?’

‘Actually, she’s been lovely. We play cards sometimes – gin rummy and crazy eights – and she’s teaching me how to play poker.’

‘Get out! Poker? You’re not serious!’ Harry laughed.

‘I hardly think Holly would make such a thing up,’ Emma told him.

‘Poker nights at Rosings.’ Lizzy giggled. ‘Can you imagine anything less likely – or less fun – than that?’

‘Where’s Charlotte?’ Holly asked. ‘Couldn’t she come along, either?’

‘I called her when we were ready to leave but she never answered. She’s in her room, no doubt, sulking. She’s grounded,’ Lizzy explained. ‘Because she snuck off to Ciaran’s yacht without our father’s permission…
and
caused poor Harry to get that black eye.’

‘I’m sure your father was furious.’

‘He still is. And it takes a
lot
to make Daddy so angry.’

‘It’s too bad Mr Bennet couldn’t come along,’ Holly said, and smiled. ‘It was sweet of him to invite me to your garden party on Sunday.’

‘Oh, we have a garden party every summer,’ Lizzy said. ‘It gives Emma an excuse to stitch up yards and yards of bunting, and Daddy an excuse to bake heaps and heaps of scones.’

‘It sounds like fun.’

‘It is, usually. Except for the time we played lawn darts – remember that, Emma? – and someone accidentally pinned Father Crowley’s cassock – with Father Crowley still in it – to the side of the garden shed. He was livid.’

‘Or the time the wind was so strong it blew my bunting into Mrs Clark’s prize-winning hornbeam hedges,’ Emma added. ‘I don’t know who was more upset – me, or Mrs Clark.’