Robyn was quite breathless after just half an hour of dancing. She’d worried about feeling the cold in her flimsy gown, but the dancing and the heat from the candles was enough to keep any heroine warm, and when she glimpsed her reflection in one of the mirrors, she saw that her face was glowing.
She’d never realised how complicated dancing could be and now had a new respect for the women in her favourite novels. There were so many things to remember: where to put your hands, how to hold your arms, which way to turn and of course—the real reason for dancing—to converse with your partner. At first, the only words Robyn and Dan exchanged were ‘whoops’ and ‘sorry,’ but it was all enormous fun, and the music was almost completely drowned out by the sound of everybody laughing.
Robyn knew that if she hadn’t been concentrating so hard on the movements, she would have spent the whole time gazing at Dan. She already thought him the most handsome man she’d ever met but in his Regency naval uniform, he looked so much like a hero from a novel that she was spellbound.
I’m Anne Elliot and he’s my Captain Wentworth, she kept thinking as they glided across the floor together, the light from a thousand candles dazzling her eyes. She was having a great deal of fun with him. They chuckled their way through the cotillion, giggled throughout the quadrille, and sighed in delight during the waltz.
‘I don’t ever want this evening to end,’ she said as they drew breath between dances.
Dan clasped her hand in his and brought it to his lips. ‘It doesn’t have to,’ he said.
***
On the other side of the room, Warwick was wishing the evening would hurry up and end. He’d drunk two cocktails in quick succession and was wondering where he could get a whiskey, when Katherine approached him.
‘Hey,’ she said, her smile bright but concerned. ‘I was wondering where my partner had got to. I’ve just had to endure a dance with the vicar, and I don’t think my toes will ever recover.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, but he didn’t want to move because he had a very good view of Nadia and could keep an eye on her. The only problem was, with all the drink he’d been consuming, he was in desperate need of the toilet.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Katherine asked.
He nodded. ‘Look, I just have to nip out for one minute, but I’ll be right back and after that, we can dance. Okay?’
Katherine smiled. ‘Okay,’ she said.
He left the Great Hall and hurried along the corridor to the downstairs cloakroom. He had to be as quick as humanly possible. He didn’t want to leave Katherine and Nadia in the same room together for longer than was absolutely necessary, although it was highly unlikely that they’d find each other.
‘Why should they?’ he said, trying desperately to reassure himself. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances and hurried back to the Great Hall faster than Lydia’s elopement.
***
Katherine had enjoyed all but one dance so far, her partners varying from elderly women to the local vicar, who’d obviously been invited to make up the numbers of men, and not because of his prowess as a dancer. It was terribly thirsty work, and she spotted the very tempting cocktails across the room and headed towards them.
There was a woman in a black dress standing by the table. She had strikingly spiky hair and beamed Katherine a smile.
‘Aren’t these heaven?’ she said to her.
‘This is my first,’ Katherine explained, ‘but they do look rather wonderful.’
‘I’ve been looking forward to this evening,’ the woman said. ‘It’s been a long, hard week.’
Katherine looked at her and noticed that her eyes were red. Was it from staring at a computer screen all day or was it from the effect of one too many cocktails? she wondered.
‘I’m Nadia,’ she said, extending the hand that wasn’t clasping her glass.
‘Katherine.’
‘And you’ve been here at the conference?’
Katherine nodded. ‘I gave a talk this morning.’
‘Oh, what about?’
‘Marriage in Jane Austen’s novels.’
‘Ah!’ Nadia said. ‘The wise and the foolish?’
‘Yes,’ Katherine said.
‘And are you married?’
Katherine blinked. It was rather a forward question. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said.
‘Me neither. No time for all that nonsense. Men are fine as work colleagues but I wouldn’t want to take one home with me. Apart from the husband, you understand.’
Katherine smiled.
‘Having said that,’ Nadia continued, ‘they do have their uses, such as dance partners and there’s a terrible dearth of them here.’
‘Every year, I’m afraid,’ Katherine said. ‘Dame Pamela does her best to bring them in from the surrounding villages. I’ve been dancing with the vicar.’
Nadia gave a throaty laugh. ‘I’m actually looking for a man myself,’ she said. ‘A very particular man I seem to have lost.’
‘Oh? What’s his name?’ Katherine asked.
‘Warwick.’
‘Warwick?’
Nadia nodded. ‘You know him?’
‘Yes,’ Katherine said. ‘I do.’ She then remembered that it was this woman Warwick had wanted to talk to earlier.
‘I seem to have lost him in the scrum.’
Katherine looked around the room, but Warwick hadn’t yet returned. ‘Well, he told me he was coming right back.’
‘Good, good!’
Katherine took a sip of her drink. ‘So are you two friends?’ she prodded, curious as to how Warwick knew this spiky-haired, cocktail-swigging woman.
Nadia shook her head. ‘Well sort of. I guess you could call us friends although he really didn’t want me here today. I must say, he can be a little peculiar at times. He values his private time, you see, and I keep forgetting that and come barging right into it.’ She paused for a sip of her drink. ‘I guess it’s more of a working relationship with us too.’
‘Oh, you’re an antiquarian too?’ Katherine said.
Nadia frowned. ‘An antiquarian? Good gracious, no! I’m his literary agent.’
Katherine frowned. ‘Literary agent?’
Nadia nodded. ‘I’ve represented him for years.’
‘I didn’t know he wrote,’ Katherine said, looking perplexed. She glanced over at the door and saw that Warwick was back in the room but he’d managed to get waylaid by Mrs Soames and couldn’t get away.
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Nadia said. ‘It’s a big secret, you see.’ She giggled and Katherine was sure she could see the bubbles from the cocktail rising in her eyes. ‘But I’ve said too much. Much too much,’ she said, waving her finger in front of her face as if it might shush her.
‘He’s a writer?’ Katherine said. ‘Warwick’s a writer?’ She was posing the question to herself as much as to Nadia, slowly recognising the signs she’d been seeing all week. She recalled the notebook she’d seen in his bedroom. It was nothing to do with his business as an antiquarian at all, was it? It was a writer’s notebook. But why hadn’t he told her he was a writer? She loved books—he knew that. She would have loved to have known that he was a writer. Why had he kept it hidden from her?
‘Nadia,’ she said, ‘I’ve got to know more. What sort of things does Warwick write?’
Nadia shook her head in an exaggerated manner. ‘No, no! I can’t say. I simply can’t say! No, no, no!’
‘Is it fiction?’
Nadia’s lips disappeared but her head was nodding.
‘He writes fiction?’
‘I didn’t say anything,’ Nadia said, hiccupping dramatically. ‘I did not say anything.’
‘But I would’ve seen his name, surely,’ Katherine said. ‘I mean, I read a lot of fiction. I virtually live in bookshops and I spend hours browsing online. I would have noticed a name like Warwick.’ Her eyes suddenly widened. ‘He doesn’t write under his own name, does he?’
Nadia looked startled, her eyes pink with too much alcohol. ‘I didn’t say that. You can’t assume anything. He’s sworn me to secrecy and it’s quite the best secret in the publishing world.’
‘Why’s it a secret? Lots of writers use pseudonyms.’ Katherine’s brow furrowed in contemplation. Why would Warwick use a pseudonym? Did he value his privacy? Or was he writing something he didn’t want to admit to? Perhaps he wrote Jane Austen sequels and that was why he was at the conference. He was a huge Austen fan like herself but maybe he was a bit embarrassed about what he did.
For a moment she thought about their time together at the shop at Chawton. He’d seemed particularly uncomfortable there in front of the books and again during the discussion group when Lorna Warwick’s books had been mentioned.
‘Lorna Warwick!’ Katherine suddenly blurted out the name.
‘What?’ Nadia looked startled.
‘Oh my god!’
Nadia clutched at Katherine’s bare arm, her fingers grasping her like a falcon’s talons. ‘I didn’t tell you that,’ she said, her lips quivering. ‘You can’t say that I told you that!’
Katherine’s eyes doubled in size. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘You’ve got to swear you won’t breathe a word.’
Katherine stood perfectly still as if she’d suddenly been pinned to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. It must be some misunderstanding. She’d had too many cocktails. The music was too loud. There was too much commotion in the room.
‘Warwick Lawton,’ Katherine said quietly.
‘Lorna Warwick,’ Nadia said, nodding energetically.