Warwick woke up with a headache that had nothing to do with alcohol. He groaned and rolled over, wishing he could fall asleep again but knowing it would be impossible. He had to try to speak to Katherine again.
Leaping out of bed, he took a shower and shaved and dressed, and then he left his room with the speed of a man on a mission. It was still early and he was grateful that there was nobody around to stop his progress. He really couldn’t handle an encounter with the ebullient Doris Norris or the insufferable Mrs Soames.
It took him only seconds to reach Katherine’s room, but he instantly knew that something was wrong because her door had been left open with the key hanging in the lock.
‘Katherine?’ he called, inching his way inside. The curtains were open and the bed was made, and he knew in an instant that it hadn’t been slept in. Katherine had left.
He walked across to the window and looked out over the gardens and down to the lake. There was no getting away from it—he’d screwed up big time. How on earth was he going to sort this one out? And was it something that could be sorted out? He wasn’t at all sure it was. It was more complicated than any of his plots. At least if they got too complicated, he could go back and delete things. You couldn’t do that with life. There was no Delete button to help you erase an awkward scene. You couldn’t hit Backspace to get rid of all the rubbishy bits. You had to live with the decisions you made.
Warwick leant his head against the window, feeling the cool glass against his skin. Katherine would never forgive him, would she? Well, he couldn’t blame her. Being a writer, he was good at seeing things from other people’s perspectives, and he could perfectly understand why she’d never want to see him or hear from him again—ever! He also knew that he couldn’t live with that thought. He loved her. He’d never loved anyone more than her, and he was profoundly sorry that she’d become entangled in such a god-awful mess.
He had to sort it out. How he’d do it was a mystery to him and certainly one that couldn’t be solved before a cup of coffee so he left the room and went downstairs in search of one.
Higgins the butler was the first person he saw when he reached the entrance hall.
‘Good morning,’ Warwick said. ‘Did Miss Sparks get to her hotel all right last night?’
Higgins cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid madam was in no state to go anywhere, sir.’
‘What do you mean? She’s still here?’ Warwick said aghast.
‘She is indeed, sir. We thought it best to let her sleep it off so we made up a bed for her in the West Drawing Room.’
‘Can I see her?’
‘Of course, sir.’ Higgins motioned in the direction. ‘I’ll bring you both some coffee, sir.’
‘Thank you,’ Warwick said. ‘That would be most appreciated.’
Like Jace the night before, Nadia was asleep on the sofa, a thick duvet hiding half her head. Warwick didn’t want to disturb her but, at the same time, he wanted to shake her until her head fell off.
‘Nadia?’ he called.
There was no response.
‘Nadia!’
A slight groan rose from the duvet and a pair of bleary red eyes greeted him. He wished the sight of it shocked him, but it didn’t because he’d seen it many times before. Her spiky hair stood up around her head in a scary halo, making her look thistle-like, and her lipstick had turned into a scarlet streak across her face. It was not a pretty sight.
‘Oh, my head! My poor head,’ she complained.
‘Your head! You’re moaning about your head? What about my heart, Nadia?’
She looked confused. ‘What’s wrong with your heart? Are you ill?’
‘No, I’m not ill,’ he said. ‘I was being poetic.’
‘Well don’t be. It’s too early in the morning to be poetic. I need coffee.’
‘So do I,’ Warwick said. ‘Higgins is bringing us some.’
‘Is he the cute butler?’
‘Cute? He’s seventy years old!’
‘Oh, dear,’ Nadia said. ‘Perhaps he looked cuter after a few cocktails.’
‘Nadia!’
‘I think I may have made a pass at him.’
Warwick’s head dived into his hands in despair. ‘I still can’t believe what you said.’
Nadia pushed the duvet away from her body and swung her feet onto the floor. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what possessed me.’
‘Alcohol!’ Warwick shouted. ‘That’s what possessed you! Don’t you know what you’re like when you drink? For God’s sake, Nadia, you’re a nightmare. You always do or say something you regret.’
‘Do I? Do I really?’ She looked genuinely mortified at the thought.
‘Yes!’
She reached out and squeezed Warwick’s arm. ‘Well, maybe it’s for the best. I mean, it was bound to come out sooner or later, wasn’t it?’
‘I’d rather it was later,’ Warwick said.
‘She seemed like a really nice girl.’
‘She was a really nice girl,’ Warwick said, ‘and you’ve gone and ruined it!’
‘Surely not,’ Nadia said. ‘You just need to explain things to her.’
‘She won’t listen to me.’
‘Maybe she will this morning, now she’s had a night to sleep on it.’
‘She left last night.’
‘Oh,’ Nadia said.
They sat in silence for a moment, Nadia’s eyes casting around for her shoes.
‘I really love her,’ Warwick whispered.
‘Oh, Warwick!’
‘And I don’t know what to do.’
Higgins entered the drawing room with a tray holding two cups of strong black coffee.
Nadia looked up, her face instantly flushed red, and she quickly looked away.
Higgins laid the tray down on a table. ‘Your coffee,’ he announced unnecessarily, and Warwick noticed that the old butler was blushing too.
***
Robyn was deliberately taking forever to get showered and dressed. It was the last time she’d wake up in the Cedar Room and the last time she’d enjoy the view out across the lawn.
After putting on a poppy-coloured dress and pinning her silver horse brooch to it, she sat on the window seat, looking out towards the stable block. She could just see the clock tower, and the temptation to leave the house and go see Dan once more was overwhelming.
‘But I’ve said my good-byes,’ she told herself and getting up from the window seat, she wheeled her suitcase onto the landing in preparation for departure, taking one last look at the room before heading downstairs for breakfast.
As soon as she entered the entrance hall, she heard raised voices and the figure of Warwick appeared from one of the rooms that led off the hall.
‘Katherine’s gone, Nadia, and she won’t be coming back.’
‘Well, she would’ve been leaving today anyway. What’s the big problem?’
Robyn watched as a dishevelled-looking woman followed Warwick.
‘Robyn!’ he said, looking surprised.
‘Katherine’s gone?’ Robyn said. ‘Why did she go?’
‘Why?’ Warwick’s eyes widened alarmingly. ‘Why don’t you ask this woman?’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, don’t start all that again! My head’s throbbing!’
‘If you hadn’t turned up, Nadia, if you hadn’t gone and got drunk like you always do and opened your big mouth—’
‘She’d have found out sooner or later,’ Nadia said.
Robyn looked from one to the other in deep puzzlement. ‘Found out what? Why’s Katherine gone?’
The hall was beginning to fill with people on their way to breakfast.
‘Katherine’s gone?’ Roberta said as she and her sister Rose joined Robyn. ‘Did she have any breakfast?’
‘She left last night,’ Warwick said.
‘But why?’ Rose asked.
‘Because she found out the truth,’ Nadia said.
‘Shut it right now, Nadia.’
‘Oh, Warwick, it’s out now, isn’t it? What’s the point in hiding it anymore?’
‘Hiding what?’ Roberta asked.
Nadia took a deep breath. ‘Warwick here is Lorna Warwick.’
‘Oh my god!’ Warwick yelled, as if he’d been shot.
‘Lorna Warwick?’ Robyn said. ‘I don’t understand. How can you be Lorna Warwick?’ she asked, turning to face him.
‘It’s his pen name, silly!’ Nadia said. ‘He writes as a woman.’
Warwick’s mouth dropped open. ‘Why not tell the whole world while you’re at it? Take out a page in The Times!’
‘Lorna Warwick?’ Doris Norris, who’d just entered the hall along with Mrs Soames and half a dozen others, jostled to the front. ‘He’s Lorna Warwick?’
‘He certainly is!’ Nadia said, suddenly looking very pleased with herself. ‘It was my idea, too.’
‘Your idea?’ Warwick cried. ‘It wasn’t your idea! I submitted my first novel to you as Lorna. You had no idea I was a man until I turned up at the restaurant that day.’
‘Of course I knew,’ Nadia said, blushing furiously.
‘Lorna Warwick?’ Doris said above their voices. ‘He’s Lorna Warwick?’
‘That’s what they’re saying,’ Roberta said.
‘Well, I never!’ Doris said, her hands flying to her face. ‘I simply must get my books signed by her. I mean him!’
Suddenly the hall filled with excitement and the sound of footsteps up and down the stairs.
‘It’s Lorna Warwick!’
‘Who?’
‘Him! That Warwick fellow!’
Warwick’s secret was well and truly out and before he could escape, there was a mad scramble to get books signed by him.
‘I bought five!’ Doris announced, thrusting the bright paperbacks under his nose. ‘Put “To Doris,” and let me have my picture with him. Here, Rose, take my camera, will you?’
Warwick was surrounded. There was no escape. The public he’d hidden from for so long were making up for lost time.
***
Nadia left quickly and quietly, sneaking out as Warwick was crushed by fans. Dame Pamela, who’d been informed of the situation by a perplexed Higgins, finally came to his rescue, leading him up for a quiet breakfast in the privacy of her personal library.
‘Goodness! I’ve never known a weekend like this one before,’ she said. ‘This room’s certainly been made the most of.’
Warwick sat down on the chaise lounge, shaking his head in shame.
‘You are a man of mystery, aren’t you?’ Dame Pamela continued with a big smile. ‘I must say, I am surprised.’
He moved to the edge of the chaise as a much-needed cup of coffee was placed in his hands.
‘I am so sorry, Dame Pamela.’
Dame Pamela tutted and wagged a finger at him. ‘Everyone keeps apologising to me this weekend, and I’ve no idea why. I’m having an absolute ball. This is the best Jane Austen Conference ever!’
‘I feel like I’ve let everybody down,’ Warwick said.
‘What do you mean? Everybody loved your revelation. They were going mad down there. They feel like they’ve been let in on the best kept secret in the world.’
‘I never meant for this to happen,’ Warwick said. ‘I’m such a private person. I really don’t crave attention for my work.’
‘Yes, I don’t blame you for shunning the public’s attention,’ Dame Pamela said. ‘It can be wearisome having people clamouring after you all the time for your autograph.’
Warwick sighed. ‘That’s just the sort of thing I wanted to avoid.’
Dame Pamela nodded sympathetically. ‘Now, before you leave, you simply must sign my Lorna Warwick books for me. I have them all, you know.’