What Would Lizzy Bennet Do?

Most of the local boys refused to go too far with her, not because they didn’t (literally) fancy the pants off her, but because her father was the former vicar and they feared his wrath (not to mention the wrath of God) if they should get his youngest daughter in the family way.

And she was really tired of being a virgin.

Harry tugged at her hand. ‘As soon as they’re done with this scene,’ he hissed in her ear, his words steely with determination, ‘we’re out of here.’

Charli scowled. ‘But I don’t want to leave,’ she sulked. ‘I want to stay, and watch Ciaran.’

‘If you don’t come with me the minute this scene is over,’ Harry promised, his expression grim, ‘I promise I’ll tell your father exactly what you’re getting up to with Ciaran Duncan. He won’t approve. And he’ll never let you come here to Cleremont and watch the filming again.’

‘Oh, very well,’ she retorted, and crossed her arms against her chest in irritation. ‘Honestly, Harry – you’re no bloody fun at all.’

Chapter 8

Sunday morning, for the Darcy family, meant church.

After a light breakfast of eggs, toast and tea, Lord and Lady Darcy rose from the table and made their way to the dining room door.

‘Don’t be long, darling,’ his mother reminded Hugh. ‘You know Father Crowley frowns on latecomers.’

‘We’ll be along shortly.’ He glanced at Holly, who looked at him with a trace of apprehension, and reached out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Harry pushed himself away from the table as well. ‘Gotta go. See you later.’

‘You’re welcome to ride with us to St Mark’s if you like,’ Hugh offered.

‘Thanks, but I need to get to church a few minutes early. I promised Father C I’d help with the Offertory this morning.’

‘I never pegged you for the church-going type.’ Holly set her coffee cup down.

‘I’m full of surprises.’

‘So I’m learning.’

‘Come along, then, darling,’ Lady Darcy urged. Harry followed them into the entrance hall and out the front door.

Holly couldn’t help but notice, as she laid her napkin aside and pushed her own chair back to leave, that Harry, normally so quick with a joke or a clever comment, hadn’t said above a dozen words during breakfast.

‘What’s up with Harry?’ she asked as she followed Hugh out to the hire car. ‘He didn’t say much beyond “good morning”, “please pass the butter”, and “see you later”.’

Hugh held the door open and waited as she slid inside, then went round and got behind the wheel. ‘I’ve no idea. He seemed fine to me, just quiet.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s probably nothing. Never mind.’

They arrived at St Mark’s a short time later, and Holly studied the gothic stone edifice as she emerged from the car and waited for Hugh to park the Mercedes. Ancient trees shaded a cemetery on the far side of the church, its gravestones enclosed within an iron fence; the car park where she stood took up the opposite side.

Hugh appeared beside her a few minutes later and held out his arm. ‘Ready?’

She nodded as she took it, and confessed, ‘I haven’t been to church in a very long time, I’m afraid.’

He laid his hand atop hers. ‘Nor have I,’ he admitted. ‘Not since the last time I was at Cleremont.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Promise you won’t tell my parents.’

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

Hugh led Holly down the aisle to the Darcy family pew in the front of the church, and as she took her place at the far end with her fiancé and his family, she studied her surroundings.

Tall windows lined the length of the nave, leading up to an altar fronted by fresh-cut flowers and bracketed on either side by a pair of candles on tall candlesticks. A pulpit of Devon marble stood to the left, with the chancel and choir on the right. The scent of incense from an earlier service lingered on the air.

Over the rustling of pages and the clearing of throats, Holly heard footsteps advancing down the aisle. She glanced back to see the Bennet family as they filed in – she knew, because she recognised Emma – each kneeling briefly in turn before they entered the pew across the aisle from the Darcys.

She studied them with covert curiosity. Mr Bennet was stout, with reading spectacles perched on the end of his nose and a pleasant if unremarkable face; his daughters, however, were another matter. They sat alongside him on the pew like three beautiful swans.

Emma, the girl with the dark hair whom she’d met only yesterday, sat next to her father. As if sensing Holly’s eyes on her, the eldest Bennet girl met her gaze and nodded slightly, then turned her attention back to the Book of Common Prayer in her hands.

A blonde, fidgety girl in trendy clothes, who Holly judged to be the youngest daughter, sat beside Emma. Her face was partly hidden beneath the brim of a stylish navy blue hat, and she made no secret of her boredom or of her desire to be elsewhere.

But it was the middle Bennet girl, the one sitting furthest from her father on the end of the aisle, who caught Holly’s attention.

This, she realised, must be Elizabeth Bennet.

Unlike her sisters, who whispered and giggled behind their hands at something amusing they’d just seen, Elizabeth stared straight ahead, looking neither to the left or the right. Her hair was neither dark nor light, but an indeterminate shade of brown. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap.

And her expression, Holly realised, was desolate.

She felt a surge of sympathy for the girl. She must’ve taken the news of Holly’s engagement to Hugh very hard. Guilt assailed her.

After all, it was because of her that Elizabeth had lost Hugh Darcy; if the two of them hadn’t met at her father’s department store and fallen in love last summer, Elizabeth might very well have ended up as Hugh’s fiancée, not her.

And that, Holly suspected as she saw Lady Darcy’s attention focused on Elizabeth, was the outcome Hugh’s mother would probably much prefer.

As if she, too, felt Holly’s eyes upon her, Elizabeth looked up and their gazes met. Unlike Emma, she didn’t smile, or nod.

Instead, just for a moment, she levelled a cold stare at Holly, leaving no doubt as to the direction of her feelings or the depth of her dislike for Hugh Darcy’s new fiancée.

Then she turned away, and the service began.

***

Afterwards, as service ended and everyone stopped to greet Father Crowley on the church steps, Holly left Hugh talking to a knot of parishioners and paused in the vestry as Lady Darcy called out to her.

‘Miss James, before you leave, there’s someone here I’d very much like you to meet.’

She turned, and found herself face to face with Mr Bennet and his trio of daughters.

‘It’s a very great pleasure, Miss James,’ their beaming father said, and took Holly’s hand in his. ‘I’m William Bennet and these young ladies are my daughters, Emma, Elizabeth and Charlotte.’

They smiled and greeted her in turn, except for Elizabeth, who gave Holly a curt nod and regarded her coolly.

‘I adore your outfit,’ Charlotte piped up, eyeing Holly’s black-and-white-striped dress and rope-soled espadrilles in envy. ‘Those shoes are Topshop, aren’t they?’

‘Yes. You have a very good eye.’

‘She ought to,’ Emma said, and rolled her eyes. ‘She’s always got her face stuck in a fashion magazine.’

‘Better that,’ Charlotte retorted, ‘than moping around the house like Anna bloody Karenina all the time.’

‘Girls, girls,’ Mr Bennet chided. He turned his attention to Holly. ‘Miss James, if you and Mr Darcy are free next Sunday, and if you’re so inclined, we’re having a small garden party at Litchfield Manor. I’d be honoured if you could attend.’

Hugh joined them and reached out to clasp Mr Bennet’s hand. ‘We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Holly?’

She glanced at Hugh, and then at Elizabeth, who turned pointedly away to greet a neighbour.

‘Yes, of course we would,’ Holly said, and managed a smile. She took a deep breath. ‘We’d love to come to your garden party next Sunday, Mr Bennet. I can’t think of anything I’d like better.’

Chapter 9

The minute she and her sisters finished lunch, Charli asked to be excused and hurried into her room to change. It was time to get ready for her meeting – because it wasn’t a date, exactly – with Ciaran Duncan.

They’d agreed, via several texts, to meet in Longbourne at the Carefree Cruises marina, where Ciaran said he had a surprise in store for her.

I love a mystery! Charli texted. What shld I wear?

Whatevr u like… but heels NOT recommended.

No heels? she thought in dismay as she rummaged through her closet for a pair of sandals. She didn’t own a pair of shoes that weren’t platforms or wedges or teetering semi-stilettos (changed into once out of Daddy’s sight). She hoped Ciaran wasn’t one of those blokes who liked to hike, or ride bicycles, or something equally sporty and tiresome.

Eventually she unearthed a pair of gladiator sandals she’d bought with her babysitting money and laced them up. The leather ties went half the way up her calves and looked very on trend with her bright yellow sundress.

And Charli loved to be on trend.

Next, she sat at her dressing table and applied pink lip gloss, feathered on a trace of blush and a flick of mascara, and sat back to survey the result.

She looked, she decided, sort of like Brigitte Bardot, and practised a sexy pout. Perfect. Ciaran would be bowled over by her sexy, girl-next-door outfit and her innocent, schoolgirl look.

Although she still actually was a schoolgirl, she thrust that thought firmly aside.

Charli felt a thrill of anticipation. Today would be brilliant, absolutely brilliant, because she’d be spending the afternoon with Ciaran Duncan, and she couldn’t wait.

She rubbed plenty of factor fifty sun cream onto her shoulders and chest, and dabbed a bit on her face for good measure – no pink lobster look for her, thank you very much – and stood up to go. Next on was a floppy-brimmed hat that looked very seventies boho and made her feel like a film star going incognito.

Finally, she chucked her mobile, a tube of sun cream, lip gloss, and sunglasses into a straw tote, and left for her first-ever almost-date with a major international film star.

***

When luncheon ended, Lord and Lady Darcy took their glasses of wine and went to sit outside and enjoy the sun. ‘Will you and Holly join us?’ Sarah Darcy asked Hugh as she paused beside the French doors that led to the terrace.

‘Thanks, but I think we’ll go into town and do a bit of sightseeing.’ He turned to her now. ‘How does that sound, darling?’

‘Perfect,’ she agreed, relieved at the thought of escaping Cleremont – and Hugh’s polite but frankly intimidating parents – at least for an afternoon. She took his arm. ‘It’s such a nice day, it’d be a shame to waste this gorgeous weather.’

‘Perhaps I should go along,’ Lady Sarah mused. ‘I know the village like the back of my hand. I could show you round.’

Holly felt her smile slip. Oh, dear God, no…

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ her husband said shortly. ‘Leave the two young lovebirds to it, Sarah. Nothing worse than a third bloody wheel. Besides, you know the sun gives you brown spots.’

She glared at him and, glass in hand, turned and stalked out through the French doors.

‘That was a close call,’ Hugh said, his voice low but amused as they crossed the hall to the front door. ‘Mum’s idea of sightseeing is visiting historical churches – unfortunately, they’re a dime a dozen round here – and reading the inscriptions on tombstones.’

‘Not exactly my idea of a rousing good time,’ Holly agreed with a grimace. ‘Where shall we go? Any ideas?’

‘I took the liberty of asking the cook to pack us a hamper with some wine and cheese – and chocolate – for later. I thought we might drive down to Longbourne and see the sights, perhaps have a picnic on the beach.’

‘Oh, you perfect, wonderful man!’ she cried, pleased. ‘You remembered – I do love my chocolate. Did you get the salted kind?’

‘I did.’

Holly rose up on her toes to kiss him. ‘That’s sweet… and incredibly romantic. I’ll just go upstairs and get my handbag.’

‘Be sure to bring plenty of sun cream,’ he pointed out as she hurried up the stairs. ‘And perhaps a hat.’

‘I will,’ she promised. ‘You be sure and bring that picnic hamper.’

How typically Hugh, Holly reflected, smiling as she turned away – always thinking of the practicalities.

***

‘Ah, Miss Bennet, you’re here. You look lovely.’

Charli looked up to see Ciaran standing before her on the dock, and any response she might have made froze in her throat.

From the top of his dark, windblown hair to the tip of his deck shoes, Ciaran Duncan was so gorgeous as to make her all but incapable of speech. He wore white jeans with a blue polo shirt, open at the neck and displaying his lightly tanned throat and defined abs to advantage. In his hand was a leather weekend bag.

Hermès, she couldn’t help but notice.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, eyeing the bag with a frown. ‘I can’t – erm, that is, I… have school tomorrow.’ Which was a total lie, but there was no way she could actually spend the night with Ciaran Duncan – no matter how much she might want just such an outcome.

Besides, her father would kill her.

He glanced down at the bag. ‘This? Filming resumes at Cleremont tomorrow. I have a change of clothing in here. I plan to stash it on that…’ – he indicated a yacht moored at the pier behind them, all gleaming brass and furled sails and polished teak decks – ‘until Saturday, when I’m taking part in the local Challenge Cup regatta. I intend to place… and win.’

‘Oh.’ Charli flushed with embarrassment at her unintended faux pas. ‘The regatta races, of course! I thought… that is, I saw your bag, and I just assumed…’

‘You thought I intended to behave like the cad you’ve no doubt heard I am,’ he finished, ‘and wine and dine you, and tempt you to stay the night with me, so I could have my wicked way with you.’ He regarded her without expression. ‘Am I right?’

Her blush deepened. ‘Y-yes,’ she confessed, thrilled and alarmed in equal measure by his words. ‘I suppose that’s exactly what I thought.’

‘Well, we will be boarding my yacht,’ he told her, and took her by the elbow to guide her around the cleats and uneven boards of the dock, ‘but I promise I’ll be on my very best behaviour. I merely thought to take you for an afternoon sail.’ He paused. ‘But if you have the slightest of doubts or hesitations…’

‘Oh, no, none at all,’ she assured him, hastily. ‘I’m really looking forward to it. Although I don’t know the first thing about sailing.’

‘Nor do I.’ He tucked her arm through his as they proceeded towards the gangplank that led to his yacht. ‘That’s why I’ve hired a very able-bodied and capable crew to handle the Meryton for me.’

‘How clever. Then all you have to do is sit back and enjoy yourself.’

‘Precisely,’ he said, and paused once again to bring her hand up to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘And I plan to enjoy myself very much this afternoon.’

As she allowed him to assist her up onto the gangplank, Charli smiled, and felt a thrill of excitement at his words.

What a pity that she couldn’t actually spend the night…

Chapter 10

With its palm trees and harbour bristling with boats of every description, and its warm, gentle breezes, Longbourne offered a tranquil and picturesque beauty that Holly found impossible to resist.

‘We might be anywhere along the Mediterranean,’ she mused as she strolled with Hugh along the pier. ‘It’s amazing.’ She stopped and let go of his hand and went to lean against the white iron railing to study the marina. ‘Just look at all of those expensive yachts,’ she added. ‘Where’s yours, by the way? I don’t see it.’

He shaded his eyes and looked out over the marina with an intent expression. ‘Sorry, you can’t see it from here.’ He pointed to the left. ‘The Pemberley’s over there, just out of view.’

She turned to him impulsively. ‘Do you think we might ride along with your father and Harry in the races on Saturday?’

Darcy shook his head. ‘They’ve already crewed the boat. They’ll want to run her as light and fast as possible, so passengers won’t be allowed, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh. How disappointing.’ Holly sighed. ‘I would’ve liked to go.’

‘Sorry, darling.’ He came to stand beside her and slid his arm around her shoulders. ‘We’ll go for a cruise soon, I promise. Just the two of us.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’ She rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the sun warming her face, breathing in the sea air and listening to the gentle slap of waves against the pier and the crying of gulls over the bay.

‘I love all of these gorgeous palm trees,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’d swear we were on the Riviera.’

Hugh nodded, his attention focused on one of the yachts moored nearby. ‘They’re cabbage trees, brought over from New Zealand in the 1820s, I believe…’ He broke off in mid sentence and frowned.

‘What?’ Holly asked, and lifted her head. ‘What is it?’

‘Isn’t that Charlotte down on the dock?’ Hugh said, and pointed.

‘Charlotte Bennet, do you mean?’

‘Yes, down there, the girl in the yellow dress. I’m certain it’s her.’

She followed his finger and saw a pretty blonde girl in a sundress and floppy hat, eyes obscured by sunglasses, talking earnestly to someone on the dock. ‘She’s probably spending the afternoon with her sisters,’ Holly ventured, ‘larking around after church. You know how girls are…’

‘No.’ The word was firm, and terse. ‘She’s not with her sisters, or her father. She’s with Ciaran Duncan.’

‘What? You must be mistaken,’ Holly said. But just then the man she’d been talking to turned, and she saw that it was, indeed, Ciaran.

‘But… she’s barely eighteen! What could he possibly want with Charlotte?’ she wondered.

‘That,’ Hugh said grimly as he reached for his mobile, ‘is a very good question.’

***

It was late afternoon when the Meryton, its sails once again furled and its lines secured, cruised back into the harbour to dock.

‘Oh, Ciaran,’ Charli breathed as she raised her arms languidly above her head and leaned back, sated. ‘That was beyond amazing. Truly.’

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ He eyed the linen-draped table on the shaded upper aft deck where they sat, its surface laden with the remnants of a substantial afternoon tea. ‘Sorry we had to stick to tea and orange squash, but if I offered you anything stronger and you returned home inebriated, I daresay your father would not have approved.’

‘Oh, he likes a sherry now and again, and we’re each allowed a glass or two of wine at Christmas, but that’s all,’ she agreed, and sighed. ‘It’s tiresome, really.’

‘What is?’ He canted his brow upwards. ‘Not being able to drink yourself silly every day?’

‘No, of course not.’ She giggled. ‘I meant it’s tiresome being the former vicar’s daughter sometimes. After all, Daddy’s not the vicar any longer, and hasn’t been for two years; but all the local boys are afraid to do anything that might annoy him, like…’

She stopped, embarrassed, and her voice trailed away.

Ciaran leaned closer to her on the banquette. ‘Like… this?’ he murmured, and lowered his face beneath the brim of her hat to press his lips to hers.

It didn’t last long, as kisses went, and it involved only the merest touch of his firm, perfectly sculpted lips to hers; but it left Charli as dazzled as the sun dancing on the waves.

‘I won’t tell him if you won’t,’ she whispered, and sighed in pleasure as he leaned in for another kiss.

With a gentle thump, the yacht docked in its berth, and Charlotte was vaguely aware of the sound of feet running below and voices calling out as the Meryton was tied and secured. Beyond that, there was only Ciaran’s deliciously warm, sexy mouth on hers.

There was a shout somewhere below them on the pier, followed by the pounding of feet; Charli heard raised voices and felt the vibration of those same feet coming closer.

Ciaran drew away, annoyed. ‘What on earth…’

‘Get your bloody hands off her.’

Charlotte shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked up and gasped. ‘Harry! What are you doing here?’

Hugh’s younger brother, his fair face pink with sun and temper, glared at her. ‘Hugh told me you were hanging out on this tosser’s boat.’ He cast Ciaran a murderous glance. ‘I didn’t believe it until I saw it for myself.’

‘Sorry, Harry, but I don’t need your permission,’ Charli retorted, ‘or Hugh’s, to spend time with Ciaran. I’m an adult.’

‘No you’re not,’ he said grimly as he reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist. ‘Your little rendezvous – or date, or whatever it is – with Ciaran is over, as of right now. I’m taking you home.’

He pulled her up and out of her seat, and Charli let out a cry of outrage. ‘How dare you,’ she snapped, and struggled to free herself from his grip. ‘Let me go!’

‘Now, wait just a minute!’ Ciaran protested, and thrust back his deck chair as he confronted Harry. ‘I won’t have you coming aboard this yacht – without permission, I might add – and manhandling my guest.’

‘Your “guest” is my friend, Mr Duncan,’ he returned, his chest rising and falling beneath his striped polo shirt, ‘and I’ve known her a good deal longer than you. It’s time she came home.’ He turned to Charlotte, still struggling to wrench herself free. ‘Does your father know you’re here?’

‘No,’ she admitted, and glared at him. ‘He thinks I’m spending the afternoon with my friends.’ Her hand went lax in his. ‘You won’t tell him, will you?’

‘I thought as much.’ He turned and regarded Ciaran with contempt. ‘Stay away from her,’ he warned, ‘or I’ll take care of you myself.’

‘Is that a threat?’ Ciaran asked with equal parts amusement and disbelief.

‘No,’ Harry retorted, and shoved him in the chest, ‘it’s a promise.’

‘Stop it, both of you,’ Charli cried as Ciaran shoved him back. ‘What about me? I’m the one who gets to decide if I spend time with Ciaran, not either of you!’

‘It isn’t proper, you hanging out with him,’ Harry told her, his ginger brows drawn together in a scowl. ‘He’s bad news.’

‘Who are you to tell me what’s proper, or who to “hang out” with?’ she demanded. ‘What about Alice Mannerly, and Sarah Afton-Crimsbury? Oh, yes, I know all about them, and all of the other girls you’ve dated and discarded, Harry, because I read the tabs. That’s quite a double standard you’ve got going.’

‘Call it whatever you like,’ Harry gritted, ‘but I’m an adult, you’re not, and you’re coming home.’ He took her arm and pulled her forward. ‘Now.’

‘I’m not leaving! I’m not a child! Let go of me!’ she cried.

‘You heard her,’ Ciaran snapped, and stepped between Harry and Charlotte. ‘She doesn’t wish to leave.’

‘I’m warning you,’ Harry breathed. ‘Stay out of this, Duncan, and stay away from Charli as well, or…’

‘Or what?’ Ciaran challenged, his eyes narrowed.

Harry hurled himself at the actor, and Ciaran drew his arm back and punched him in the face with a resounding crack, sending him staggering back against the deck railing.

Charlotte let out a small scream as Harry straightened and launched himself straight at Ciaran.

‘Harry, no!’ she wailed. ‘Both of you, please, please stop!’

But as the two men grappled and exchanged punches, she realised they weren’t listening, and she knew she had to do something – anything – to stop them. Spying the pitcher of iced water on the table, she grabbed it and flung it on them, vaguely aware as she did so of the rapid click and whirr of a camera somewhere nearby.