Page 118 of Me and Mr. Darcy

Mr Darcy pales. I suspect he’s not used to being refused by ladies. But then he’ll have to get used to it, I think ruefully, thinking of the famous scene between him and Elizabeth Bennet when he asks her to marry him. And he will ask her. I’m sure of that now.

Quickly recovering, he stands before me now, hands clasped behind his back.

‘May I enquire one more thing?’ he says, and he says it with such formality that I feel a bitter-sweetness. Despite everything that’s happened, I’m going to miss Mr Darcy.

‘Of course.’ I smile, and then with slight trepidation add, ‘Ask me anything.’

There’s a pause as he composes himself and then: ‘What does he have that I don’t?’

‘He’s real.’

And as our eyes meet a large drop of rain splashes on to my lap. I glance upwards. As dozens more start to fall, big meaty drops that are splattering all over my face and running down my collar. The grey skies have turned black and threatening, and at that moment a splinter of lightning is followed immediately by a loud crack of thunder.

‘Quick, the storm must be directly above us,’ I cry. ‘We’ve gotta find shelter.’

Jumping up from the bench, I put my head down and dash for cover, but the rain has turned into a torrential downpour and the paths are all slippery and I can barely see as the rain is lashing my face so hard. And I’m running and running, and all the trees are bare, and there’s nowhere to shelter, and I’m getting completely drenched, and I’m never going to find my way out—

I stop dead. There, before me, is Lyme Hall. Large and grand, it’s just sitting there as if to say, ‘What took you so long?’ A huge smile breaks across my face and I feel a whoosh of relief. I’ve found my way out. I’m not lost at all.

I whirl round to tell Mr Darcy, but he’s not there. In fact, he’s nowhere to be seen, I realise, scanning my surroundings. Shit, where did he go? Maybe I left him behind, maybe he took a different path, maybe he’s gone back to wherever he came from.

No sooner has the thought struck than I notice the rain has stopped, just as quickly as it started. The birds are tweetering again, noises return, there’s a sweet, fresh smell from the grass. I feel a sudden, unexpected rush of euphoria.

‘Oh, look, there she is . . .’

Hearing voices, I turn round and see Rose and Hilary striding towards the grass with two colossal striped golfing umbrellas. I can’t help smiling. As someone who insists on wearing heels at all times, Rose is not one for taking country walks, and is picking her way precariously across the wet turf. Obviously the gift shop has proved a disappointment.

‘Hi.’ I wave, pushing my wet hair out of my eyes. ‘What brings you out here?’

Reaching me, Hilary throws me her ‘lawyer’ smile. ‘You, my dear,’ she says firmly.

I look at Rose for an explanation. Winded by the walk, she takes a moment to catch her breath, and then, in an uncharacteristic show of affection, reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

‘Can we have a word?’

Chapter Thirty-Five

‘Cheers.’ I grin.

Making sure to keep my ‘little finger out’ (as instructed by Rose), I loop my finger through the handle of my gold-rimmed teacup and raise it aloft.

‘Cheers,’ beam Rose and Hilary, doing the same.

There’s a delicate chink of finest bone china as the three teacups come together, and I feel a burst of happiness.

God, I love England! What a civilised way to do business.

It’s the next day and I’m in London, at the Savoy, having afternoon tea with Rose and Hilary. It’s our last day of the tour. We arrived here this lunchtime and a lot of people have left already in a flurry of address-swapping and cheek-kissing (Ru-pinda wouldn’t go before making everyone sign up for her yoga retreat in Goa next year) and gone to catch various flights and trains home.

Maeve and I said our goodbyes first thing this morning. She was catching a flight from Manchester back to Ireland, and promised to call me next week after her first meeting with Shannon. She was nervous but excited, and there was a quiet confidence about her that was never there before. Ever since that phone call from her brother, the transformation has been incredible. The person who left today was so different from the anxious mouse I met only a week ago, and as I hugged her goodbye I got quite choked up. When I came on this trip I would never have thought I’d make such wonderful friends, especially not ones old enough to draw their pension. But then I’ve had a lot of unexpected things happen to me this week.

One of them being the reason I’m sitting here right now in this fancy hotel, on this plush velvet sofa, sipping Earl Grey and nibbling the tiniest triangle of crust-less cucumber sandwich that you’ve ever seen. I gobble it up in one mouthful. I’ve got that giddy, nervous exhilaration that makes me want to eat, even though I’m not hungry. I reach for another cucumber triangle. Saying that, these are rather delicious.

Things have been happening so fast I’m still trying to take it all in. When Hilary and Rose asked to speak to me yesterday I had no idea what it was about.

But Rose, being Rose, came straight to the point: ‘Have you thought of buying your bookshop?’ she asked, without even an introduction.

Coming from a woman wearing ten years of my salary in diamonds, I couldn’t help but smile. ‘I don’t think I’ve got enough in my savings account,’ I quipped ruefully.