‘What?’ Charlotte cried in outrage. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘I most certainly can. What were you thinking,’ he snapped, his face dark with anger, ‘visiting that film star on his private yacht… alone?’
‘He invited me out for an afternoon cruise, that’s all! It was nothing.’
‘Nothing? Then why didn’t you tell me about it?’ her father demanded. ‘Why did you not ask my permission before you went gallivanting off to Longbourne to spend the day with that womanising scoundrel?’
‘I – I didn’t think you’d mind.’ Which was nonsense, of course. She had known Daddy would mind horribly, so much so that he’d never have let her go off to meet Ciaran.
‘Of course I mind!’ Mr Bennet scraped his chair back and stood. ‘I very much mind. I’m disappointed in you, Charlotte. Not least because you snuck off to meet that lying Lothario; now you’re dissembling in an effort to absolve yourself of any wrongdoing. Well, it won’t do.’
‘What’s going on?’
Charlotte looked up to see Lizzy and Emma, still in their T-shirts and pyjama bottoms, crowded together at the kitchen door with startled faces.
‘Nothing,’ she snapped. ‘Daddy and I are having a… disagreement, that’s all.’
‘We’ll say no more about it,’ Mr Bennet said, his face grim as he gathered up the papers and made his way to the back door. ‘I shall be on the terrace, reading the rest of the newspapers in pursuit of the peace and tranquillity I’m so rarely afforded. Kindly do not disturb me, any of you.’
And with that he left, slamming the door behind him, leaving his daughters staring after him in astonishment.
***
Lizzy Bennet hurried across the field and climbed over the stile that separated her father’s property from Cleremont. She was nearly as anxious to put distance between herself and the tension she’d left behind at Litchfield Manor as she was to see Hugh Darcy…
…and Holly, too, of course.
As she strode towards the house, her battered Dublin tall boots making quick work of the trip, Lizzy smirked. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth today as she furthered her acquaintance with Darcy’s fiancée.
She planned to keep her promise to her father and be all that was agreeable to Holly – and then some.
And if, in the process, she happened to show Miss James up in the saddle – which, given the fact that the girl was a Londoner, shouldn’t be difficult – then so much the better.
Good thing she’d had free use of the Cleremont stables since she was a girl. It afforded her plenty of opportunity to ride, and their father had even plumped up for riding lessons for a couple of years. She could soar over a jump, post a trot with ease, and canter and gallop with the best of them.
Holly and Hugh might be engaged, she thought now as she neared the kitchen entrance where they’d all agreed to meet. Holly might be more fashionable, and more adept at making conversation and clever remarks.
But I, Lizzy thought smugly, can ride like a dream, and I have a bedroom full of ribbons and trophies to prove it. Hugh loved nothing more than a good bracing gallop across the fields.
She smiled as she brushed a bit of grass from her breeches. She might not have Holly’s money or connections. She might not have her fashion sense or even, at the moment, a job.
But she had determination in spades. And she intended to do everything she could to unseat Miss Holly James, and make Darcy see that he’d chosen the wrong girl.
***
As the morning sun inched higher in the sky outside her window, Charlotte rested her elbows on the sill and gazed down into the garden below, chin in hand, and scowled.
It wasn’t fair.
Look at them down there now, she thought resentfully, Emma and Daddy, sipping their coffee and tea and reading the newspapers in companionable silence. As if everything were wonderful and right in the world. As if her own world wasn’t ruined, thanks to the unreasonable and unjust actions of her father.
And now, thanks to his ridiculous edict, she couldn’t even see Ciaran. It was beyond unfair – it was cruel.
She flounced away from the window. The thought of spending the rest of the day – not to mention the rest of the summer – in this room, charming as it was, with its dressing table littered with cosmetics and its garden view and its walls plastered with posters of boy bands and sexy footballers – well, it drove her mad with frustration.
What on earth would she do with all of that time on her hands?
I’ll be filming at Cleremont on Monday, Ciaran had said yesterday while they were cruising on the Meryton. I hope to see you again.
Not if Daddy has anything to say about it, she thought now. She sat before her dressing table mirror and regarded herself disconsolately. Ciaran had told her to drop by to watch the filming anytime she liked, that he’d put in a word with the set manager.
Fat lot of good it was going to do her now.
Her resentful gaze went to the far window, the one with the deep sill that Emma had fashioned into a window seat with a comfy cushion. Kneeling on the cushion and looking out now, Charli saw the apple orchard, its blossoms already fallen and carpeting the ground in pink and white. An oak tree grew nearby, its branches reaching up to her window, and she smiled.
She’d often shimmied down those branches as a child, sneaking out of her room to go and play when she was grounded for some infraction or other…
Her eyes narrowed. She suddenly had a wonderful, crazy, brilliant idea.
She might be grounded. And she might not be able to leave the house in the normal way, via the front or back doors.
But her window – and the thick branches of the oak tree just outside – waited, ready to help her leave the dull environs of her bedroom behind, and go to Cleremont to visit Ciaran Duncan.
***
The horses were ready, tacked up and waiting in the stable yard, tails twitching. Holly eyed them uneasily. There was a chestnut, a dapple-grey mare, and a beautiful seventeen-hand bay hunter named Thor.
Just the sight of him made her legs turn to jelly.
‘Nice,’ Lizzy offered as she caught sight of Holly in her breeches, boots and hacking jacket. She tossed her a helmet. ‘But you’ll need this.’
‘Thank you.’ She put the helmet on and adjusted the strap snugly under her chin.
‘Have you ridden before, Holly?’ Lizzy enquired as she did a quick safety check of the bay’s tack.
‘Not for ages, since I was twelve. I grew up in London, so horses weren’t a big part of my life. But I’ve had a few lessons. I’ve even been in a couple of gymkhanas.’ She managed a smile. ‘Of course, I hope we won’t be doing anything too… erm, challenging today, will we?’ she asked with a trace of nervousness.
‘No, of course not!’ Lizzy assured her. ‘Hugh and I might jump a hedge or two along the way, but we won’t expect you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.’ She paused, her hand resting lightly on the bay’s girth. ‘If you don’t want to go, we completely understand.’ She glanced over at Hugh. ‘Don’t we, Darcy?’
He mounted his chestnut in a single, fluid motion and nodded. ‘Of course. You mustn’t feel pressured to go along with us, darling. If you’d rather stay here…?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Holly spoke with far more confidence than she felt. ‘I’m looking forward to it. A nice, relaxing hack across the fields is just what I need.’
And as she followed Lizzy’s lead and mounted the dapple grey, Holly was glad of the lessons her mother had insisted on, and the gymkhanas she’d taken part in, even if she’d never actually won anything, even if (for that matter) she’d never even placed.
At least she wasn’t a complete wally when it came to horses.
But as they left the stable yard and went through the gate and into the fields, and Hugh and Lizzy urged their mounts from a canter to a gallop, it was all Holly could do to remember those long-ago lessons as she gripped the reins and gritted her teeth and did her level best to keep up.