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.’
‘Hardly anyone ate Daddy’s scones that year. They were an odd combination – lemon and chive, I think.’
Emma shuddered theatrically. ‘Not one of his better efforts,’ she agreed.
‘Well, I’m curious to try Mr Bennet’s scones,’ Lady de Byrne pronounced as she appeared in the doorway. ‘Lemon and chive sounds like an intriguing combination. I wonder if your father might permit me to attend your garden party on Sunday?’
Harry and the Bennet girls scrambled to their feet as Hugh’s godmother entered the drawing room, a basket of pink roses on her arm and a pair of secateurs dangling from a ribbon at her waist.
‘Good afternoon, Lady de Byrne,’ Emma said, breaking the sudden, awkward silence. Her smile was composed. ‘Of course you’re welcome to come to our little party. I daresay Daddy would love nothing better. In fact, I thought I’d sent you an invitation. I apologise for the lapse. Oh, what beautiful roses,’ she added. ‘They smell divine.’
‘Thank you. They’re damask roses, Comte de Chambord. Summer damasks tend to be very thorny.’ She smiled slightly. ‘Rather like myself. Which is why,’ she added briskly as she removed her gardening gloves, ‘one must wear these.’
‘Would you care to join us, Lady Georgina?’ Holly offered. ‘Mrs Jenkins is bringing tea and cake.’
‘Thank you, my dear, but I need to get these flower stems cut and arranged in vases straight away. Enjoy yourselves.’ She inclined her head at the visitors and turned to go. ‘Carry on.’
‘Thank you,’ Emma and Charlotte murmured, and Harry half rose as she left. Holly suppressed a giggle.
‘Oh, my God,’ Lizzy hissed when Lady de Byrne had gone, her eyes wide. ‘She called you “my dear”, and she even made an actual joke.’
‘I told you, she’s very nice,’ Holly said. ‘She’s not at all the gorgon you make her out to be.’
‘You must be a good influence on her.’ Harry shook his head in amazement and sat back down.
‘She’s just lonely,’ Holly told him as Mrs Jenkins arrived with the tea tray. ‘She told me so last night. With her daughter gone and her husband dead, she has no one, and very few visitors.’
‘That’s exactly what Daddy said,’ Lizzy agreed. ‘He said I should be more inclined to remember that, and not moan about her the way I do.’
‘Perhaps we should invite Lady Georgina along to the regatta tomorrow,’ Emma suggested. ‘She might enjoy it. The races, the bunting, all those beautiful yachts…’
Holly stirred sugar into her tea and set her spoon down with a sigh. ‘I wish I could go. But with this wonky ankle, I can’t possibly manage it.’
‘Who says you can’t?’ Harry scoffed. ‘We’ll take you, won’t we, Lizzy? We’ll carry you round in a sedan chair on our shoulders, like Cleopatra.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t go either,’ Lizzy told him. ‘I’m to help my father with the church fête at St Mark’s all afternoon.’
He made a face. ‘How’d you get stuck doing that, and tomorrow of all days?’
She hesitated, and glanced at Holly and away again. ‘It’s my punishment,’ she admitted.
‘Punishment? For what?’
‘I insisted that Holly ride Thor yesterday instead of Lady. Daddy was furious with me, because…’ Lizzy took a deep breath and met Holly’s eyes. ‘Because I knew Thor was hard to handle but I pushed you to ride him anyway, and then I challenged you to a race, and you got thrown and might’ve been badly hurt, and it’s all my fault,’ she finished in a guilty rush.
‘You… you did all of that on purpose?’ Holly stared at her in bewilderment. ‘You wanted me to get hurt?’
‘No! No, of course I didn’t! I just – I wanted to show you up in front of Hugh, I suppose. Prove to him that I’m the superior horsewoman.’
‘I don’t think there was ever any question of that.’
‘No,’ Lizzy admitted in a small voice. ‘I suppose not. I’m sorry, Holly, truly. I honestly never meant for you to get hurt. I hope you can forgive me.’
There was an awkward silence.
‘I suppose I can,’ Holly said after a moment. ‘If you promise me one thing. Well, two things, actually.’
‘Anything! Just name it.’
‘Promise you’ll keep Thor well clear of me.’
‘Of course.’
‘And then I want you to promise,’ Holly added, ‘that you’ll point out which of your father’s scones I should avoid on Sunday.’
Lizzy laughed. ‘That’s easy. All of them.’
The doorbell went for the second time that morning.
‘I wonder who that could be?’ Emma said. ‘For someone who never gets visitors, Lady de Byrne is having rather a lot of them today. Perhaps it’s Hugh.’
‘I hope so,’ Holly said. They’d barely been apart for a day, and already she missed him with an almost visceral ache.
They waited, teacups and cakes in hand, as Banks made his way across the entrance hall and opened the door.
‘Well, this is a surprise,’ he murmured, and cleared his throat. ‘Please come in. Let me just go and inform Lady de Byrne that you’re here…’
‘That won’t be necessary, Banks,’ Hugh’s godmother said in chilling tones as she descended the stairs. ‘I can see for myself that my daughter, Imogen – as well as her extravagant collection of Vuitton suitcases – has finally come home to roost.’
***
‘Hello, Mother.’ Imogen removed her sunglasses and glanced up as Harry, Emma and Lizzy appeared at the drawing room door. ‘I see you have visitors.’
‘We were just leaving,’ Emma said. ‘Thank you so much for your hospitality, Lady de Byrne.’
‘You’re quite welcome.’ Lady Georgina turned to the blonde young woman surrounded by luggage. ‘This is my daughter, Imogen Clarke. Imogen, may I present Miss Emma and Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Harry Darcy.’
‘Darcy?’ Imogen echoed, and lifted her expertly groomed brow in interest. ‘Are you related to Hugh, by chance?’
Harry smiled. ‘I should say so. He’s my brother.’
‘Oh, I had such a crush on him when I was younger,’ she confided, and tucked her sunglasses in her handbag. ‘But then, all the girls did. With that dark hair and the way he always held himself – like a royal looking down on the commoners – he was so incredibly attractive. Still is.’ She eyed Harry with interest. ‘I bet the girls all chase after you as well.’
Holly, who’d hobbled to the door behind the others on her crutches, saw Harry’s smile widen.
And she didn’t much like it.
She studied the blonde on the doorstep. Imogen was attractive, stylishly dressed in a dark blue Rodarte dress and pumps with a white cardi thrown carelessly over her shoulders.
‘I’m Holly James,’ she informed the newcomer, who’d turned towards her with a smile. ‘Hugh Darcy’s fiancée.’
Her smile slipped. ‘Imogen Clarke,’ she said. ‘A pleasure.’ Her expression made it plain that it was anything but. She turned back to her mother. ‘I’ve come back home for a while. I’ll need someone to bring my luggage upstairs.’
Banks moved to pick up two of the Vuitton cases at the young woman’s feet, but Lady de Byrne stopped him. ‘Leave it, Banks.’
Imogen bristled. ‘What? Mother, really. You’re not going to refuse to let me stay here, are you?’
‘No. But my staff is small and far too busy to bother hauling your suitcases upstairs,’ she said sharply. ‘Such nonsense! Carry your own luggage up.’
And with that, Lady Georgina turned on her heel and made her way across the hall and up the stairs, her back straight and stiff and her expression stony.
‘I’ll help you,’ Harry offered, and strode forward to pick up two of the suitcases. ‘Just show me where you want them.’
‘Up my mother’s arse,’ Imogen muttered. At Lizzy’s involuntary gasp of surprise, she met the girl’s eyes with a world-weary smile. ‘Sorry, Miss Bennet, I don’t mean to offend your sensibilities. But Mother always brings out the absolute worst in me. It was nice to meet you… all of you.’ Her glance flickered to Holly. ‘Now, I’m feeling a bit fatigued from travel, so if you’ll excuse me…?’
‘Of course,’ Holly said sweetly. ‘Perhaps a bit of rest will improve your outlook.’
‘Perhaps it will,’ she shot back with a tight smile. ‘At least,’ she observed, making no secret of her study of Harry’s backside as he carried the first of her suitcases up the stairs ahead of her, ‘the scenery round here is very nice.’ She laughed, and winked at Holly. ‘See you all later. Ciao.’