At Home with Mr Darcy (4 page)

Annie Soames had hoped to lose her mother but she wasn’t having any luck.

‘Anne!’ Mrs Soames barked. ‘Wait for me and get hold of this bag.’

The tartan bag held a tartan flask from the nineteen-seventies and went everywhere that Mrs Soames did even though Annie had told her that there were cafes and kiosks galore at Chatsworth.

‘Harrumph!’ Mrs Soames had said. ‘You won’t find
me
lining the pockets of the duke and duchess when I can take my own cup of tea.’

The worst of it was that Mrs Soames expected Annie to share it with her.

‘Wouldn’t you like a
fresh
cup of tea, Mother?’ Annie asked her. They’d finished the tour of the house and were near one of the cafes. ‘We’ve got those vouchers to spend.’

‘No, I wouldn’t. Just look at those prices!’ Mrs Soames cried, causing several heads to turn. Annie was used to her mother’s head-turning capabilities but it never ceased to embarrass her all the same.

‘Look! There’s Rose and Roberta,’ Annie said, catching sight of the sisters who were seated outside the Orangery.

‘I’m not spending good money to sit with those two nitwits,’ Mrs Soames said, her voice loud and carrying across the short distance between them.

‘Well,
I’d
like to join them,’ Annie said daringly, her face heating in a ferocious blush at her mother’s words.

She turned to join the two ladies but her mother grabbed her wrist.

‘Mother!’

Mrs Soames looked shocked at the tone of her daughter’s voice and they glared at each other for a dreadful silent-drenched moment.

‘How
dare
you shout at me!’ Mrs Soames said, her bosom rising in a great fleshy defiance.

‘You hurt my wrist!’ Annie said, her voice sounding like a child’s.

‘I did no such thing,’ Mrs Soames told her.

‘Yes you did. Now,’ Annie said, taking a deep breath and trying to remain calm even though everybody was looking at them, ‘I’m going to buy a cup of tea and maybe even a slice of cake–’

Mrs Soames tutted in disapproval.

‘And then I’m going to join our friends.’ Without further discussion, Annie went to join the queue, her heart racing wildly as she watched her mother leave the scene.

‘Did you see that?’ Katherine said to Warwick. After walking around the Canal where the Emperor Fountain was, they’d somehow found themselves in the Orangery shop where they were being tempted by yet more books.

‘See what?’ Warwick asked. He was distracted by a display of his own Regency romances which looked splendid next to a selection of Darcyesque novels.

‘Annie and Mrs Soames,’ Katherine said. ‘They seemed to be having an argument.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Warwick said.

‘It looked pretty heated to me,’ Katherine said.

Warwick shook his head. ‘Poor Annie,’ he said, ‘I don’t know how she puts up with it.’

‘She told me that Mrs Soames didn’t want her leaving home at all. Annie was still living with her when she was thirty-one. I think Mrs Soames just wanted somebody to complain to on a daily basis.’

‘And a free dogsbody,’ Warwick said.

‘No doubt,’ Katherine said with a sigh.

‘Hey!’ Warwick said. ‘Would it be really touristy to have my photo taken next to my books?’

‘I think it would be highly unusual of you not to,’ she said, taking her camera out of her handbag.

No sooner had Katherine taken the photograph than a lady in her early twenties approached Warwick.

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Are you Lorna Warwick? I mean Warwick Lawton?’

‘I answer to both those names,’ Warwick said, a smile bisecting his face.

‘Oh!’ the lady cried. ‘Ellie! Come here – it’s Lorna Warwick.’

Another young lady who’d been perusing the bookshelves, turned around and screamed.

‘Warwick!’ Her hand flew to her mouth and she raced across the shop and grabbed Warwick’s arm. ‘I love you!’ she cried. ‘Your books – I love your books!’

‘I saw him first,’ the other lady said.

‘I’m Ellie,’ the screaming lady said.

‘And I’m Mina,’ the first lady said.

‘Would you sign some books for us?’

‘I would be absolutely delighted,’ Warwick said.

Katherine caught his eye and motioned outside as a small crowd started to gather around Warwick. He nodded and she headed out into the sunshine, smiling at Annie who had now joined Rose and Roberta, and hoping to high heaven that she didn’t bump into Mrs Soames in the garden. She would, no doubt, be in a terrible mood.

‘But when isn’t she?’ Katherine said to herself. She then spotted Robyn heading towards the greenhouses. ‘Robyn!’ she cried.

Robyn turned and waved and Katherine caught up with her.

‘I’ve lost Warwick to some fans in the shop,’ she said.

Robyn laughed. ‘He does seem to attract the girls now that his true identity is known.’

‘Yes, he really knows how to hold court. Just like Dame Pamela,’ Katherine said, ‘but I sometimes can’t help wishing that we could turn back the clock and not have all this adulation. It would be nice to come somewhere like this and just be an ordinary couple.’

‘There’s nothing ordinary about you two,’ Robyn said. ‘You’re special.’

Katherine returned her smile. ‘You’re very sweet,’ she said. ‘Shall we sit down?’

They found a bench made out of a roughly-hewn piece of wood. It was situated under a fine yew tree above the greenhouses with a spectacular view of the grounds and the neat, tree-dotted landscape beyond.

Robyn opened her handbag and retrieved a rather battered copy of
Pride and
Prejudice
– the one featuring Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen on the cover.

‘This one seemed most appropriate for today,’ she said.

‘One of my favourites is the Longman Literature edition,’ Katherine said. ‘It’s got a beautiful blue cover, illustrated with swirling dancers and a lovely Regency lady at its centre.’

‘I have that one too,’ Robyn said. ‘Amongst many others.’

‘Of course,’ Katherine said and they laughed. ‘So, what did you think of the house?’

‘It’s left me breathless,’ Robyn said. ‘I think you could fit fifty Purley Halls into it – at least!’

‘Or two hundred Hawk’s Hills,’ Katherine said.

‘It wouldn’t suit me,’ Robyn admitted. ‘I love seeing these places but Horseshoe Cottage is my perfect home. But it was so exciting to see the Painted Hall and to walk in the steps of Elizabeth.’ She tapped the photo of Keira Knightley on the cover of her paperback. ‘The rest of the rooms in this version were filmed in another house, weren’t they?’

‘Yes,’ Katherine said. ‘Wilton House near Salisbury.’

‘Perhaps Dame Pamela will arrange a weekend there one day,’ Robyn said, gazing out across the immaculate lawns towards the house. ‘Do you think Jane Austen had Chatsworth in mind when she wrote Pemberley?’ she asked after a moment.

‘Well, it’s a little ambiguous,’ Katherine said. ‘It could well be Chatsworth and she mentions it at the beginning of volume three when they first arrive in Derbyshire.’

Robyn nodded and flipped through the pages. ‘Here,’ she said a second later. ‘She writes "all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, Dovedale or the Peak."‘

‘That’s right,’ Katherine said. ‘But the date of Pemberley is never given. The Gardiners are speculating about it after the house tour, remember?’

Robyn nodded again. ‘I think the word used is "conjecturing".’

Katherine laughed. ‘You know the novel better than I do,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you should come and take some of my tutorials some time.’

Robyn grinned. ‘I’m just a fan – not an academic. I doubt if I could teach anyone anything more than how wonderful Mr Darcy is.’ Robyn’s eyes scanned the pages again. ‘Here’s a description,’ she said a minute later. ‘"It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground."‘

‘But that could be any date at all,’ Katherine said.

‘Do you think Pemberley could be older than Chatsworth?’

‘I really think it might be. After all, you wouldn’t "conjecture" over the date of a contemporary building, would you?’

Robyn looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps it’s actually Haddon Hall – that’s near Bakewell just as Pemberley was.’

Katherine nodded. ‘Yes, it could well be.’

‘But that has a far more Brontëan feel about it, don’t you think? All medieval turrets and castellations.’

‘But that’s a modern audience’s interpretation of it. Jane Austen might have viewed it quite differently and it could still be all elegance inside as Pemberley was described.’

‘It’s stood in as Thornfield in at least two adaptations of
Jane Eyre
, hasn’t it?’ Robyn said.

‘You’re a Brontë fan too?’

‘It’s hard not to be,’ Robyn said, ‘although the Brontës come a very poor second to Jane.’ She read some more of her book quietly to herself. ‘There are woods mentioned and a river and bridge just like here at Chatsworth,’ she said a moment later.

‘You know, I think there are probably elements of Chatsworth in there – the interior of Pemberley certainly has the elegance of Chatsworth but lots of writers amalgamate difference places and then throw in a good measure of their own imagination too. I think, for most Austen fans, Chatsworth will always be Pemberley just as Castle Howard will always be Brideshead.’

‘You think it foolish to try and find the real Pemberley?’ Robyn asked.

‘Not foolish, exactly,’ Katherine said. ‘I think we all carry it inside us, don’t we? We each have our own individual version that no film director can ever really create for us.’

Robyn laughed. ‘I think it’s funny that Elizabeth tells Jane that her feelings for Mr Darcy began when she saw "his beautiful grounds at Pemberley",’ she said.

Katherine laughed. ‘I know. But don’t forget that that’s when she learned about his true character from the housekeeper.’

‘Of course,’ Robyn said. ‘Our Elizabeth would never have married simply for a beautiful home – however stunning it might be.’

Robyn’s mind drifted, once again, across the miles from Derbyshire to Hampshire and she wished with all her heart that she could glimpse what her beloved Dan was doing at that very moment.

‘I can’t believe this has happened,’ Dan said through gritted teeth. He was sitting in the drawing room at Purley Hall having been fed tea and shortbread by a very sympathetic Higgins.

‘Should I ring Miss Robyn?’ Higgins asked.

‘Good grief no!’ Dan said, his bright eyes widening in alarm. ‘She mustn’t know about this or she’ll be on the first train home. I don’t want to panic her. She’s been looking forward to this weekend for months and I’m not going to wreck it for her.’

‘Well, if you’re quite sure–’

‘I’m sure,’ Dan said, shaking his head at the unfortunate predicament he found himself in. Luckily, nothing was broken but Dan had sustained one hefty horse kick to his lower right leg and the bruising was substantial.

‘You’ll have to keep your weight off that leg,’ he’d been told at the hospital and he’d been sent home with a pair of unwieldy crutches and Higgins fussing over him like an old woman.

‘Perhaps I can be of assistance with Miss Cassandra,’ Higgins said now.

‘What?’ Dan said, trying to imagine Higgins taking care of a toddler and not able to hold the picture in his mind at all. ‘No, no, no. I’ll manage,’ he said, struggling to his feet. ‘You’ve done so much for me already.’

‘If I may be permitted to voice an opinion?’ Higgins said.

‘Voice away,’ Dan said.

‘Miss Cassandra is at the running around like a tornado stage, is she not?’

‘Yes,’ Dan said, ‘she is indeed.’

‘I fear it will be difficult to keep up with her whilst on a pair of crutches.’

Dan sighed. ‘Difficult but not impossible,’ he said.

‘And the dogs, sir?’

‘I’ll cope.’

‘And the horses?’

‘I’ve got help with those,’ Dan said. ‘The girls have texted me and everything’s fine. Rosie caught Winter and she’s in her stable.’ He was beginning to get exasperated by Higgins’s lack of faith in him. ‘I can cope.’

Higgins nodded. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said but he didn’t look convinced.

Doris Norris was wearing a funny little summer hat in pink and white checks that kept flopping over her left eye. She took it off when she entered the house, squashing it into her handbag and popping a mint humbug into her mouth in order to keep her strength up. She had been going to walk around the house with Rose and Roberta but there had been some confusion when Roberta had disappeared in the kitchen garden and Doris had found herself on her own after Rose had gone in search of her sister. Doris didn’t mind, of course. Since her dear husband’s death, she’d been used to being on her own.

Still, she couldn’t help thinking it would have been nice to have had some company as she walked through the lavish rooms, nodding at the paintings and catching her breath at the views from the windows.

At the end of the tour, she found herself in the sculpture gallery. It was so bright in there that Doris reached into her bag for her hat and squashed it down onto her head again.

‘That’s better,’ she said.

‘Did you say something?’ a gentleman with startling white hair said.

‘Pardon?’ Doris said.

‘Did you say something?’ the man repeated.

‘No,’ Doris said, a little perplexed.

The man smiled at her and, pushing her hat out of her eyes again, she smiled back.

‘Davey,’ he said. ‘My name’s Davey.’

‘Doris,’ Doris said, taking a seat in the middle of the room.

The man sat down beside her. ‘It’s certainly warm, isn’t it?’

‘A little too warm for me,’ Doris confessed.

‘An English rose,’ he said.

‘Pardon?’ Doris said, wondering if she’d heard him right and hoping he didn’t think she was deaf.

‘You have the complexion of an English rose,’ he said.

Doris smiled. ‘Well, if that means I’m a little pale and apt to wilt then I suppose you’re right.’

‘My skin’s as tough as a rhino hide,’ he said and Doris saw that he certainly had a good tanned complexion. ‘Spent years out in Kenya.’

‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘How about you?’

‘I’ve never left the Cotswolds,’ Doris said. ‘Although I did once go on a package holiday to Gibraltar but I missed the green fields of England. I was only away for a week.’

Davey laughed. ‘I missed England too,’ he said. ‘It takes some beating, doesn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Doris said, ‘and a day out like today couldn’t ever be matched in another country. A fine stately home and a stroll around beautiful gardens followed by a proper cup of tea – that’s what makes me happy.’

‘Me too,’ he said. ‘My travelling days are over now.’

They sat in affable silence for a while.

‘My Judy used to love it here,’ Davey said at last. ‘She’s why I’m here now.’

‘Your wife?’

He nodded. ‘She died two years ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Doris said. ‘I lost my husband many years ago but I still miss him every day.’

‘It doesn’t get any easier, does it?’ he said, his eyes large and melancholy.

‘No,’ Doris said. ‘It only gets different.’

They looked at each other and exchanged soft smiles.

‘How long are you in Derbyshire?’ he asked at last.

‘Just for the weekend,’ Doris told him. ‘I’m with a group of Jane Austen fans and we’re staying at The Wye Hotel just outside Bakewell.’

‘Very nice,’ he said.

‘I was hoping to see Darcy’s bust today,’ Doris said.

‘Excuse me?’ Davey looked startled.

‘The bust they had made for the film of
Pride and Prejudice
. I believe they used to have it up in the shop but a young man told me it’s been moved into the private part of the house.’ She gave a little giggle. ‘I expect the duchess has it in her bedroom.’

Davey smiled. ‘Just what is it with women and this Mr Darcy?’ he asked.

‘Why, he’s the ultimate hero,’ she said.

‘Is he, indeed?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Doris said.

‘And he’s why you and your friends are here today?’

‘Pretty much,’ Doris said, standing up. ‘Oh, dear!’

‘Are you all right?’ Davey asked. He was on his feet in an instant, offering a helping hand.

‘I just felt a little dizzy,’ Doris said. ‘It’s this heat. It’s all a bit too much for me these days, I’m afraid.’

Davey nodded. ‘How about we find some shade and have a nice cup of tea?’

Doris beamed him a smile. ‘That sounds absolutely smashing.’

‘She has
no
right to talk to you like that,’ Roberta was saying to Annie. They’d left the cafe together and were walking towards the Canal and the Emperor Fountain.

‘She’s my mother. I’ve come to expect it,’ Annie said with a resigned sigh.

Roberta shook her head. ‘How awful for you, my dear.’ She rested her hand on Annie’s arm and Annie felt tears vibrating in her eyes. Blinking them back quickly, she gazed back at the house. She wasn’t going to let her mother ruin her day. She’d done that too many times in the past.

‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about it all?’ she said and Roberta nodded.

‘Of course I don’t mind.’

‘Yes,’ Rose said, ‘we should be talking about Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet.’

Roberta nodded. ‘Ah, indeed! How I adore the scenes at Pemberley,’ she said as they began the long walk around the impressive water feature known as the Canal Pond, taking in the great jet of water that thundered up into the air. ‘I love seeing Elizabeth’s response when she hears all the wonderful things the housekeeper says about her master and the Gardiners are equally baffled because Elizabeth has told them what an awful man he is.’

Rose nodded as they walked along the top of a steep bank whose slopes were covered in wild flowers.

‘My favourite bit is when it says that Elizabeth is beginning to think of Mr Darcy with "a more gentle sensation". Isn’t that gorgeous?’

Annie joined in. ‘I like the bit when their eyes meet and they both blush. That’s
so
romantic!’

‘"Never had he spoken with such gentleness",’ Rose quoted and the two sisters sighed in unison.

‘What did you think of the adaptation of
Death Comes to Pemberley
?’ Annie asked when they reached the far side of the Canal Pond and stopped to admire the famous view down the long stretch of water back to the house.

‘Well, it was beautifully shot,’ Rose said, ‘but I don’t like it when people mess with Jane Austen’s characters – they should create their own. After all, the word “novel” means “new”, doesn’t it?’

‘But I did love that scene at the end with Georgiana,’ Roberta enthused.

‘Well, who wouldn’t love a man on horseback riding towards you to sweep you off your feet?’ Rose said.

‘Indeed, sister. And we got to see Mr Darcy and Elizabeth in bed with each other,’ Roberta pointed out.

‘Well, really! Trust you to remember that scene.’

‘You remember it too,’ Roberta chided.

The three of them began the long walk back down the other side of the Canal, passing tourists who were sitting on the grass or having their photos taken.

‘I think I’ll stop here a while,’ Annie said.

Rose and Roberta looked at her.

‘Are you sure? We’re going to try and find that wonderful water tree. Won’t you join us?’ Rose asked.

‘I’m just going to sit for a bit,’ Annie said, a little smile doing its best to light up her pale face.

‘Okay, my dear,’ Roberta said. ‘We’ll see you later.’

Annie watched as the two sisters walked away from her. They were such sweethearts but even their delightful chatter hadn’t managed to pull her out of her glumness.

She sighed. She should have been thinking of Pemberley and Mr Darcy. She’d been a fan ever since she’d first seen the great hero played by Laurence Olivier. The scene that had done it for her had been when he’d been teaching Greer Garson’s Elizabeth archery and had placed his arms around her body in order to do so. It was a scene which was not to be found in Jane Austen’s masterpiece but it was, nevertheless, a most welcome one. But Annie Soames wasn’t thinking the thoughts of a Janeite as she sat on the grass near the Emperor Fountain; she was thinking about the horrible humiliation she had suffered – yet again – at the hands of her mother.

Craning her neck back and closing her eyes against the brilliance of the sunshine, she wondered why she still put up with it. Her mother would never change, would she? The long years of being bossed around had taught Annie that and yet she’d so hoped that this little break would be different – that the delight of a whole weekend talking about Jane Austen and being in the company of fellow Janeites would ease things between her and her mother. But, from what Annie had deduced from the new friends she had made on the trip so far, her mother’s foul moods and bossy ways didn’t even abate for Austen.

‘Well, I don’t like to speak ill of anybody,’ Doris Norris had said to Annie just the night before after Annie had asked what her mother was like during the Jane Austen weekends at Purley, ‘but your mother can be – how shall I put it? Difficult?’

Annie gave a hollow laugh.
Difficult!
That was putting it mildly.

She thought back to the many, many difficult situations her mother had created for her like the time at primary school when Annie had volunteered to take care of the school rabbits during the summer holidays.

‘You’re not bringing those home,’ Mrs Soames had said at the top of her voice in front of everybody at the school gate. ‘Filthy, dirty creatures.’

Then there had been the time at middle school when she’d brought Christopher round for tea. She’d had a bit of a crush on him and couldn’t believe he had said yes to her invitation. And what had her mother gone and said? Annie remembered it as if it was yesterday.

‘You didn’t pick your knickers up off the bedroom floor this morning, Anne!
I
had to do it,’ she’d said, causing both Annie and Christopher to blush intensely. Of course, it hadn’t stopped there; a fierce whispering campaign went on at school after the knickers-on-the-floor incident much to Annie’s mortification. Indeed, it still made her shudder now when she thought about it. Such childhood scars never really healed, did they?

If only her mother could relax, Annie thought, but she was as tightly wound up as ever even at a place like Chatsworth. Annie had sincerely thought that the magic of being at a real life Pemberley would have gone some way to making her mother smile but it obviously wasn’t going to happen and she had to admit defeat.

She tried to empty her mind of all thoughts of her mother and focus on the soothing sounds around her. How wonderfully refreshing was the sound of running water around the Chatsworth estate on that hot July day, Annie thought, from the delicate trickle of water from the willow tree fountain to the tremendous splash of the Emperor Fountain which now filled her ears, lulling her into a blissful half-slumber.