A Gift to Remember (4 page)

‘The same guy was already madly in love with someone else, Aunt Katherine,’ Darcy argued tiredly. ‘His own reflection. When are you going to realise that I’m just not
interested in men who are all about success and career? I want someone who’s fun and intelligent, and who can actually hold a conversation with someone other than themselves.’

‘Don’t we all?’ her aunt replied airily. Then she said more kindly, ‘I just want you to be happy, darling. This city’s not an easy place to be alone, especially
around the holidays, and—’

‘But I’m not alone. I have lots of friends, and I have you too, don’t I? OK, I know you’re heading to St Barts for Christmas this year . . .’

Notwithstanding that her aunt would be going out of town, she and Katherine just didn’t have that sort of close relationship.

Darcy thought about their first Christmas together, over twenty years ago – not long after her parents’ accident. She was still only a child though she felt like she’d grown up
almost overnight upon losing her beloved family, and moving in with her mother’s younger sister, who in truth she barely knew. Her forbidding and somewhat austere aunt had always frightened
Darcy a little, and she seemed to possess little of Lauren’s natural warmth and gentle ways.

She recalled how, that first, sad Christmas, Katherine’s modern Brooklyn condo had barely been decorated for the season; nothing but a small artificial tree in the corner of the living
room and a holly wreath on the door – a sharp contrast to the usual lavish adornments of her family’s classic brick townhouse in the older part of the borough.

There was no lovingly prepared Christmas dinner on the day – Katherine ordered Thai take-out. Nor was there a big fuss around the opening of presents like Darcy was used to.

In fact, it was almost as though her aunt had forgotten about the holiday altogether. Darcy wasn’t sure if this was down to Katherine’s still-raw grief over losing her only sister a
few months before, or her bewilderment at the sudden overwhelming responsibility of becoming guardian to a twelve-year-old girl. Most likely a combination of both.

Though given her own heartbreak following the accident, Darcy hadn’t felt that there was much to celebrate. Still, Christmas had always been one of her favourite times of the year and the
lack of any traditional nod towards the festivities merely served to highlight her loneliness and the gaping difference between her old life and the new.

Over the years, and mostly through her own efforts, Darcy had gradually brought her aunt round to celebrating the season, though Katherine typically preferred to spend the holidays in warmer
climes, whereas Darcy couldn’t conceive of being anywhere else but Manhattan at this time of year.

And even though in reality she and Katherine had spent only five years living under the same roof, Darcy had always felt that she’d been cramping her vivacious aunt’s style, which
was why she’d tried to stay as independent as possible and make her own way in life as soon as she could. She wasn’t sure why her aunt’s sense of responsibility now seemed to
extend to finding Darcy a mate. Perhaps if she was coupled or married off, then in Katherine’s mind that burden of duty (perceived or otherwise) would finally end? There was no denying that
Katherine took a businesslike approach to most things in life. It was part of the reason she’d been so successful in navigating Manhattan’s cut-throat events scene. Darcy knew that her
own lack of ambition was another aspect of her character that her aunt didn’t understand, but she was happy with her life and her job and her beloved books. Sure, she could do with a little
more excitement in her life, but she figured most people felt like that from time to time.

Katherine put a hand on Darcy’s arm in a rare show of tenderness. ‘Of course you have me.’ She watched in surprise as Darcy started to take out her gloves and scarf.
‘You’re not leaving now, are you? But you just got here! I promise I won’t introduce you to any other . . .’

‘No, honestly, thanks, but I think I have had enough for one night. Besides, I have an early start in the morning.’

‘Well, if you insist. But you certainly can’t ride that bike home now,’ her aunt argued, indicating the thickly falling snow outside. ‘It’s too dangerous and
it’s getting late. We will order you a cab and they can put your bike in the trunk.’

Moments later, Darcy was tucked into a Yellow Cab with her aunt peering in the window. The cab driver pulled away from the kerb, as her aunt hit one resounding hand on the roof of the car. Darcy
waved a weak goodbye.

‘You said West Houston?’ the driver asked as he turned the corner.

‘No,’ she said resolutely, ‘change of plans. Just take me up a couple of blocks and turn right. I can get my bike out and ride home from there.’

Snowflakes landing on her cheeks was one of her favourite sensations, and she would much rather brave the elements than be cooped up in an airless vehicle.

‘In this weather?’ grunted the driver.

Darcy nodded. ‘In this weather,’ she repeated, in a tone that indicated the conversation was over. ‘But thanks anyway,’ she added, not wanting to be rude.

Moments later, as the driver unloaded her bike and she reached into her messenger bag to get his fare, her hand touched her old dog-eared copy of
Pride and Prejudice
. She felt a sudden
longing to get home as quickly as possible, make a cup of chamomile tea, change into her pyjamas and get under the covers with her namesake, Mr Darcy. Her mum had been a big fan of Austen too, she
thought, smiling fondly as she recalled when Lauren Archer had first introduced her to her all-time favourite novel. Darcy had been too young to understand much of the subject-matter at the time,
but over the years found herself returning again and again to Austen’s famous tale, finding comfort in the story and, she supposed, viewing it as a kind of tangible connection to her late
mother.

She slung a leg over her bike as the cab driver got back in his vehicle and disappeared. Alone on the cold street, the snow fell across her shoulders and she tentatively pushed off, knowing she
would have to ride with caution.

Darcy stared in front of her and navigated the empty streets as snowflakes danced in front of her, happier now in the knowledge that she was in control of her own destiny and would be home
soon.

In the words of Groucho Marx, she thought wryly:
I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it
.

Dreams are illustrations . . . from the book your soul is writing about you
.
Marsha Norman

The setting sun dropped languidly behind the lake at the rear of the Pemberley Estate. Here it was midsummer, and the heat added to the mood that now enshrouded Darcy as she
took a tentative step towards it.

Although she was a lady and shouldn’t be inclined to so-called animal urges, it was difficult to curb the anticipation that soared through her chest at that moment. It seemed the faster
she breathed, the more her tight whalebone stays drove into her chest, constricting her fluttering heart. But none of her efforts to still herself would take hold. She could barely contain her
anticipation.

Would he be here? she wondered

She knew she was breaking all the rules just then – that she was facing damage to her reputation if anyone saw her alone with him. But still, she couldn’t seem to care about her
reputation. Not in light of the ecstasy she felt when she was in his presence, the heady sense of wonder. This shocked her, considering they hadn’t got off to the best of starts. And that was
saying the absolute least.

She adjusted her parasol and quickened her pace as the lake came into full view before her. Suddenly, hearing the clattering of hooves behind her, she turned – and the breath caught in her
throat.

There he was. His gaze met hers as he pulled his great steed to a stop and swiftly dismounted. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul and she placed a quivering hand against the bosom of her
empire-waist gown.

A tentative smile flitted across her face even while his expression remained unreadable in the setting sun. It was he who made the first move. Taking a slow step in her direction, he then seemed
to make up his mind about something, and closed the space between them with his long, manly stride.

Before she knew what was happening, he was in front of her, so close she could smell the intoxicating male aroma of the brandy he had been sipping after dinner and the pipe tobacco she knew he
kept in his coat pocket.

‘You’re here,’ he said simply.

‘I am,’ she replied, feeling a blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks. His gaze found her lips and at once she understood what would happen next. As if on cue, his eyes turned a
smoky shade of grey and determination crossed his face. He moved his head ever so subtly towards hers and her heart threatened to explode from her chest. He was going to kiss her! Mr Darcy was
going to kiss her!

‘Miss Archer . . .’ he said quietly.

‘Yes?’ she replied breathlessly as she met his eyes.

Buzz . . . Buzz . . . Buzz . . . Buzz
.

Confused, and unwilling to miss what he was about to say next, she shook her head, as if trying to shoo away an annoying insect. She looked around out of frustration, trying to figure out just
who was interrupting what had to be the most romantic moment of her life

Buzz . . . Buzz . . . Buzz . . . Buzz
.

Darcy sat up in bed and pushed her wayward curls out of her face, trying to work out where she was. The ringing phone was lying next to her on her pillow, where she must have left it after
texting Katherine the night before to confirm that she was safely home.

She’d spent the rest of the evening reading in bed, and realised that she must have dozed off before setting her alarm. And in her slumber had enjoyed a recurring dream that was just about
to reach a most satisfactory conclusion . . . only to be interrupted.

Looking blearily at the phone display, Darcy discovered that she had multiple missed calls and – frighteningly – that it was almost 10 a.m.! She was more than an hour late for work,
and poor Joshua had been phoning steadily for the last hour and was trying to call her right then.

Feeling panic rise in her chest, she fumbled with the keypad to answer the call. Fully awake now, she hit the accept button.

‘Oh my goodness, Joshua, I’m so sorry. I know I was supposed to be in with you first thing, but my alarm didn’t go off and my phone was on vibrate and I am a complete putz and
I’m
so
sorry. I’m on my way right now.’

‘Darcy, thank God.’ Joshua sounded concerned. ‘Are you OK? I’ve been phoning for the past hour. I thought Ashley was supposed to be in, but then she told me she’d
changed shifts with you and I was just about ready to start calling round the Emergency Rooms. Where are you? What are you doing?’ Clearly, Joshua had been too agitated to register any of
Darcy’s excuses.

She threw back the covers, hoping she could calm down her workmate, who had a penchant for dramatics akin to the stage mothers on the TV show
Toddlers & Tiaras
. Darcy knew that,
right now, he was probably wringing his hands and on the verge of tears. Small wonder his earlier career as a trainee paramedic hadn’t worked out.

Growing up in a family of surgeons, it seemed inevitable that Joshua would follow in his older siblings’ footsteps and take up a career in medicine, but ultimately he proved too much of a
delicate soul to handle the inevitable daily chaos of such a profession. Much to his relief, Joshua’s parents had grudgingly accepted his decision to cut short his training and pursue instead
his passion for literature. Which was how he’d ended up working in Chaucer’s, in a job which (most of the time) was considerably less tumultuous than the ER, while taking a Masters in
Drama – something that suited him all too well.

Strange though, how her and her colleague’s career paths had taken such similar routes, suggesting that you could (and should) never fight your own destiny.

‘Joshua, I’m fine, you can call off the search-party. I forgot to set my alarm last night, that’s all. And I’m sorry I scared you.’ Darcy hurried across the room
towards the tiny adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower while trying to pull her pyjama top over her head with one arm. ‘I’m just jumping in the shower now. I’ll be with you
in no time.’

‘For all I knew you could have been hit by a car on your way to work and were laid up at Mount Sinai, unconscious, on life support. I mean, don’t you understand how much you scare me
– especially on that bike?’

Darcy couldn’t help but giggle. ‘And don’t you understand how much you sound like a worry-wart mother?’

Joshua’s voice was gentle. ‘Someone has to look out for you, you know,’ he said, and Darcy was touched by his concern.

‘Thank you. I’ll be there as fast as I can, OK?’

‘And take a damn cab!’ Joshua pleaded. ‘Don’t even think of trying to make your way all the way up here on the bike. It’s a mess out there this morning with all
that snow. The city put salt down but the roads are still a horror show, and everywhere people are losing their damn minds. Honestly, it’s like something out of
The Dead
Zone
.’

‘Joshua, I’ll be fine. My bike has seen worse, believe me. See you soon.’

‘Well, don’t pedal too hard!’ he said in parting.

Having showered and dressed, Darcy clattered downstairs. On the way, she met one of her neighbours, Mrs Henley, a cantankerous type who lived in the apartment across the hallway. Darcy smiled as
she passed the older woman, who was on the way up. ‘Morning, looks like it’s going to be a cold one today!’ she called out by way of greeting.

‘It’s the middle of December – what else would it be?’ the woman grumbled, her face typically pinched as she continued upward to her own apartment.

Darcy knew it was her own fault for bothering. In the three years she’d lived in this building, Mrs Henley had barely acknowledged her salutations, or any attempt at neighbourly
friendship. She understood that many people including herself embraced solitude and were perfectly happy in their own company, but still the rejection stung. Despite being a city of millions, New
York could be a lonely place at times.