Hugh Darcy wore khaki trousers and a white polo shirt, and his feet were thrust into a pair of dock shoes. He was alone.
‘I apologise for my appearance,’ he said, almost as though he’d read her thoughts. His face, unlike her pinkish one, was lightly tanned. ‘I just got back from Longbourne. We… I went down to check on the Pemberley.’
The Pemberley, Lizzy knew, was the Darcy family’s yacht.
‘Oh.’ Surprise crossed her face. ‘Did you plan to enter the regatta this year?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t the time. Harry’s keen, though. He and my father have signed up for the yacht races, and I wanted to make sure the Pemberley’s up to the task.’ He stretched out his hand to Mr Bennet and smiled. ‘It’s good to see you again, Father.’
‘And you, Mr Darcy, and you.’ He clasped Hugh’s hand and beamed. ‘But it’s “Mr Bennet” now, you know. I’ve retired. I’ve been put out to pasture and now my flock has a new shepherd.’
‘I’m sure everyone in the village misses your sermons a great deal,’ Hugh said. He glanced at Lizzy. ‘And your scones.’
She bit back a smile.
‘Well, just between you and me,’ Mr Bennet said, and leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile, ‘I quite enjoy being retired. More time to bake.’ He straightened. ‘Ah, where are my manners? Might I offer you refreshment? A blueberry scone, perhaps?’
‘Oh, no, thank you,’ Hugh said quickly. ‘I admit,’ he added, and cast Lizzy an uncertain smile, ‘that I’d hoped to borrow Elizabeth for a few moments, if I might.’
Her heart leapt. Hugh had come here to Litchfield Manor to see her.
‘Well, Lizzy’s a grown woman,’ Mr Bennet said. ‘No need for my permission, unless perhaps you plan to ask her to marry you!’ He chuckled.
‘Daddy!’ Lizzy muttered, horrified.
As he registered their twin expressions of embarrassment, her father cleared his throat. ‘Well, then. Perhaps I’ll just leave you two to talk.’
Mortified, Lizzy watched him go. Why on earth had he brought up the subject of marriage, and in front of Hugh, of all people?
‘I’m sorry,’ she began, and grimaced in apology. ‘I dearly love my father, but he often doesn’t think…’
‘It’s fine.’ His eyes crinkled as his smile deepened. ‘His tact is second only to his scone-baking skills.’
Lizzy laughed. ‘That’s very diplomatic of you, Mr Darcy.’
His smile faded, and a serious expression took its place. ‘I wonder if we might, perhaps, take a walk? I’ve something to tell you, Elizabeth, something that’s rather important.’
‘Of course.’
They began walking across the field that led to the apple orchard, silent as their feet followed the dirt track. The field was bordered on one side by a stone wall choked with brambles and wild carrot. The drone of bees and the distant rumble of a tractor were the only sounds.
‘Are you home to stay?’ Lizzy asked after a moment, as the silence stretched and lengthened.
‘No. I’m on holiday. I’ll be leaving again at the end of the month.’
‘Oh.’ Only one syllable, Lizzy reflected, yet it carried a world of disappointment.
‘And what of you?’ he asked. ‘Are you back from London to stay? The last I remember, you were working for a publisher in…’ he frowned. ‘Clerkenwell, I believe.’
She smiled. ‘You have a very good memory. Yes, I was with Aphrodite Books for five years, but…’ She shrugged. ‘I was made redundant and couldn’t seem to land another job, so I decided to let my flat go and come back home.’
Of Mark Knightley, and her pleasant but short-lived relationship with him, she said nothing.
‘I’m sorry.’ He glanced over at her. ‘But I’m glad you’re back.’
‘Me, too. Glad you’re back, too, I mean.’
‘Will you stay, do you think?’
She considered. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. There’s nothing here for me, really, unless I want to manage a hotel or sell 99s and Magnums from a refurbished ice cream van.’ Her smile was wry. ‘And my sister Emma has things well in hand at home.’
‘She’s very organised, isn’t she?’ he agreed, and returned her smile. ‘I’ll put out some queries when I get back to London if you like,’ he offered. ‘See what I can find.’
‘That’s very kind. I’d like that. Thank you.’
They walked for several more minutes before Hugh cleared his throat and stopped. He took her hands in his. ‘Lizzy, before we go any further, there’s something important I need to tell you. There’s a reason I’ve come back to Cleremont.’
She looked up at him expectantly, and although she kept her expression unremarkable, her heart gave a little lurch. After all these years, could it be…?
Lizzy allowed herself a moment of blissful fantasy. She imagined that Hugh had realised, after nearly eight years, that bachelorhood wasn’t quite what it was cracked up to be, and so had come back to Litchfield to ask her to be his wife. She’d become the mistress of Cleremont eventually, with Hugh Darcy by her side, and the first thing she’d do was redecorate that godawful private sitting room upstairs…
‘Lizzy?’
With a blink, she came back to the present. ‘Sorry.’ She smiled in apology. ‘You know me, always gathering wool.’
‘The thing is, Lizzy,’ Hugh said now, his fingers tightening in hers, ‘I’ve always cared deeply for you. And I always will.’
She managed to nod, her heart racing. ‘I feel the same.’
‘I want you to understand that nothing will ever change that.’
‘Yes.’ She was giddy, positively giddy with anticipation. Could it be that her one, constant hope for the last eight years – that Hugh Darcy would realise and admit his love for her – was finally about to come true?
‘But life, as you know, brings change, and challenges, and when the unexpected happens, one must respond.’
Lizzy nodded, her heart beating so quickly with excitement she feared she might implode.
‘I never planned for this to happen.’ His eyes searched hers. ‘It came completely out of the blue.’
Well, not exactly out of the blue, surely, Lizzy thought with a trace of surprise. They’d known each other since they were children, after all.
‘But honesty compels me to tell you, before you hear the news from someone else.’
She blinked, momentarily nonplussed. Hear what news from someone else, exactly? Surely a marriage proposal should come from one’s husband-to-be, not from someone else…?
‘And so it pains me to tell you this, Lizzy, but the fact is, I…’ He stopped. ‘I’m engaged. I’ve asked Holly James to marry me.’
Lizzy stared at him.
All of the blood, the life, the joy, drained away from her with his words. She stared at him, not comprehending. What he said made no sense.
‘You – you’re getting married?’ she said. ‘To the department store heiress?’
‘Yes, I am.’ He looked, not happy, but subdued.
All of Lizzy’s imaginings – Hugh’s proposal on bended knee, her blushing acceptance, the engagement ring they’d pick out, living together in Cleremont, raising their children and maintaining his family’s legacy – all of it vanished, gone in a moment with the utterance of one devastating sentence.
‘I see.’ She took her hands, carefully, from his. ‘Well, then, congratulations! I’m very happy for you… both.’
She turned away and began to walk, slowly at first, and then more quickly, back to Litchfield Manor.
‘Lizzy – wait.’
But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She kept walking, because to stop meant he’d catch up to her, and if he did, he’d see her crying. And that would never do.
‘Lizzy, please!’ He pelted up behind her and caught her by the shoulder and turned her around. ‘I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just – I wanted to tell you myself, before you heard it from someone else.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘And please don’t apologise. I’m happy for you, really. I’m fine.’
She managed another smile and turned away, away from the anguished confusion on his face, and fled.