скачать книгу бесплатно
‘I’m here.’
They all looked up from their plates then as Harry, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and sockless loafers, appeared in the doorway.
‘Harry,’ his mother cried, and half rose in her seat, one hand pressed to her throat. ‘My God! What’s happened to you?’
Holly let out a gasp.
Harry, his handsome face usually so open and friendly, was scowling.
And no wonder, Holly realised in dismay, as she took in the twin purple bruises that marred his jaw and surrounded his blackened left eye.
Chapter 13 (#ulink_39ab204b-4801-528e-a65f-bfbe250aa72d)
‘Harry!’ his father exclaimed, and flung down his napkin in astonishment. ‘What the devil happened? You look hideous.’
‘You should see the other bloke,’ Harry said, in a weak attempt at humour.
No one laughed.
‘Don’t tell me you got into a fight,’ Lady Darcy said in dismay. ‘Harry, honestly! Fighting is terribly déclassé.’
‘I think I know what happened,’ Hugh said as he set his cup down. ‘You got into an altercation with Ciaran Duncan yesterday, didn’t you?’
With a sigh, Harry dragged out a chair and sat slumped at the table. ‘Yeah. I did.’
‘What? You got into a fistfight with that… that awful man?’ his mother gasped. ‘How could you?’
‘I went to the Longbourne marina yesterday to get the Pemberley ready for the race on Saturday.’
‘I told you I already did that,’ Hugh pointed out.
‘I know, but I had to make sure everything was in order, didn’t I? Hugh was there, too,’ he told his mother, ‘and he saw Charli. She was on Ciaran’s yacht.’
Lady Darcy’s eyes widened. ‘Do you mean to say that Charlotte Bennet was on Ciaran’s private yacht? Oh, dear. I wonder if her father knew?’
‘No,’ Harry said grimly, ‘he didn’t. Which I already suspected, so I went aboard the second the Meryton docked and demanded to know what Ciaran was up to.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He said it was none of my business. I told him it was my business, and Charli was my friend and she was coming with me, and that I was taking her home. She refused, and Ciaran got in the middle, and, well…’ he shrugged. ‘Punches were thrown.’
‘Oh, no.’ Lady Sarah paled and reached for her orange juice. ‘I need something stronger,’ she muttered. ‘Orange juice alone just won’t do.’ She picked up a silver bell and rang it. ‘Someone bring me some vodka.’
‘It gets worse.’
Harry’s father glowered down the table at him. ‘How could it possibly get any worse?’
With a grimace, Harry met his eyes. ‘The Longbourne Tattler got wind of it somehow, and there’s a photograph, and it’s on the front page of this morning’s paper. And,’ he added glumly, ‘Ciaran’s threatening to file a lawsuit against me. For assault.’
Hugh leaned back in his chair in disgust. ‘I’ve no doubt he’s already filed it, knowing Ciaran. This is just the sort of thing he lives for.’
‘It just gets better and better,’ Lord Darcy snapped. ‘It’s not enough Duncan dragged our family through the mud once before! What on earth were you thinking, Harry? You young idiot!’
‘I suppose I shouldn’t have got involved,’ Harry admitted, and sighed. ‘It was incredibly stupid.’
‘Yes,’ his father agreed curtly, ‘it was.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’ Holly spoke up in Harry’s defence. She turned to him. ‘You did a brave thing, standing up to Ciaran Duncan.’
Harry’s eye – the one that wasn’t purple and nearly swollen shut – met hers. ‘Thanks.’ He gave her a crooked, but very grateful, smile.
‘He’s a womaniser and a nasty piece of work, and I know it only too well,’ Holly said. ‘Charlotte’s far too young to resist the attention of someone like him, and if she falls for his lies, he’ll use her and toss her aside like the – the paper in the bottom of a bird cage.’
‘You sound as if you speak from experience, Holly,’ Lady Darcy said, and lifted her brow quizzically.
‘No need to go into all of that,’ Hugh interjected, and laid a hand protectively atop Holly’s. ‘It’s in the past now.’
‘No.’ Holly regarded her fiancé, and then Lady Sarah, without expression. ‘No, it’s all right. Your family deserves to know. And I’ve nothing to be ashamed of, except for my own stupidity.’
In as few words as possible, she told them all how Ciaran had romanced her in Manhattan the previous summer, how he’d dazzled her with expensive dinners, private box seats at the theatre, a cruise in New York Harbour on a hired yacht, and repeated declarations of love, until she agreed to his proposal of marriage and wore his engagement ring on her finger.
‘It was a beautiful ring,’ Holly finished. ‘I was deliriously happy. But then I found out he didn’t really love me,’ she added, and fidgeted with the stem of her water glass. ‘Not one jot. It was all to do with money.’ She looked up. ‘My family’s money.’
‘God, I’m sorry,’ Harry said, and scowled. ‘He’s an arse. It seems some things never change. Take what he did to Phoebe, for instance…’
‘It’s most distressing,’ Lady Darcy cut in quickly. ‘All of it.’ She gave her youngest son a quelling glance. ‘But there’s no need to go into personal family matters at the dinner table, Harry.’ She turned back to Holly. ‘I’m just relieved that you realised your fiancé’s true intentions before you actually married him.’
‘Yes. I count myself very lucky.’ Holly smiled at Hugh’s brother. ‘That’s why I’m glad Harry confronted Ciaran. You prevented her making a very big mistake.’
‘That’s me,’ he said wryly, ‘defender of virtue. Champion of teenage girls everywhere.’
‘Hardly that,’ Hugh retorted.
Holly pushed her chair back. ‘I think it’s wonderful, what Harry did. Now, if you’ll all excuse us, I’m taking him into the kitchen to have that eye looked after.’
‘The kitchen?’ he echoed, surprised. ‘Don’t you mean the local A&E?’
‘No. That eye needs an ice pack on it, and straight away,’ Holly said firmly. ‘A bag of frozen peas will do nicely. Come along, you can show me where the kitchen is.’
Harry grinned, then winced. He glanced at Hugh as he stood to follow her. ‘Your fiancée is a bit bossy, isn’t she?’
‘What about our plans to ride?’ Hugh called out as Holly headed towards the door. ‘Elizabeth’s arranged to meet us at the stables later this morning.’
‘And we’ll be there,’ she informed her fiancé firmly, ‘after I take care of poor Harry’s eye.’
***
‘Good morning, Daddy,’ Charlotte said, and leaned down to kiss his cheek as she entered the kitchen. ‘Did you sleep well?’
Mr Bennet looked up from the table, where he was sitting with a cup of tea – which had gone cold now – and the newspapers.
‘I slept very well, thank you,’ he replied evenly.
‘Fab. I slept like a top,’ she confided as she reached into a cupboard for a mug and switched on the kettle. ‘What does that mean, anyway, to “sleep like a top”? Tops don’t sleep, after all; they spin.’
‘I’m sure I don’t know.’
If his daughter noticed his lack of enthusiasm for the topic at hand, she gave no sign.
‘I’m surprised Lizzy and Emma aren’t up yet. I’m usually the last one out of bed.’ She plunked a tea bag in her mug. ‘I thought I’d go to Longbourne again today,’ she added, her words casual, ‘and hang out with the girls. We had such a good time yesterday.’
‘Evidently. It seems you had such a very good time,’ Mr Bennet went on, and lifted up one of the newspapers on the table, ‘that it made the front page of the Tattler.’
‘What…?’ Charlotte turned, mug in hand and surprise on her face. ‘What are you talking about?’
But as her gaze came to rest on the photograph of her, and Ciaran, and Harry, and a smaller one of her and Ciaran snogging on the aft deck, her words trailed away and her eyes widened in horror.
She suddenly remembered the sandy-haired bloke with the Nikon, madly snapping photos of Ciaran and Harry fighting from another yacht docked nearby.
‘I think I can safely say,’ Mr Bennet pronounced as he tossed the offending paper down and regarded her balefully over the top of his spectacles, ‘that you’re not going anywhere today, Charlotte, nor for the remainder of the month – because you’re not leaving this house.’
Chapter 14 (#ulink_9eb3d0ee-b2e7-59ed-a229-47b59b6b7a90)
‘What?’ Charlotte cried in outrage. ‘You can’t do that!’
‘I most certainly can. What were you thinking,’ he snapped, his face dark with anger, ‘visiting that film star on his private yacht… alone?’
‘He invited me out for an afternoon cruise, that’s all! It was nothing.’
‘Nothing? Then why didn’t you tell me about it?’ her father demanded. ‘Why did you not ask my permission before you went gallivanting off to Longbourne to spend the day with that womanising scoundrel?’
‘I – I didn’t think you’d mind.’ Which was nonsense, of course. She had known Daddy would mind horribly, so much so that he’d never have let her go off to meet Ciaran.
‘Of course I mind!’ Mr Bennet scraped his chair back and stood. ‘I very much mind. I’m disappointed in you, Charlotte. Not least because you snuck off to meet that lying Lothario; now you’re dissembling in an effort to absolve yourself of any wrongdoing. Well, it won’t do.’
‘What’s going on?’
Charlotte looked up to see Lizzy and Emma, still in their T-shirts and pyjama bottoms, crowded together at the kitchen door with startled faces.
‘Nothing,’ she snapped. ‘Daddy and I are having a… disagreement, that’s all.’
‘We’ll say no more about it,’ Mr Bennet said, his face grim as he gathered up the papers and made his way to the back door. ‘I shall be on the terrace, reading the rest of the newspapers in pursuit of the peace and tranquillity I’m so rarely afforded. Kindly do not disturb me, any of you.’
And with that he left, slamming the door behind him, leaving his daughters staring after him in astonishment.
***
Lizzy Bennet hurried across the field and climbed over the stile that separated her father’s property from Cleremont. She was nearly as anxious to put distance between herself and the tension she’d left behind at Litchfield Manor as she was to see Hugh Darcy…
…and Holly, too, of course.
As she strode towards the house, her battered Dublin tall boots making quick work of the trip, Lizzy smirked. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth today as she furthered her acquaintance with Darcy’s fiancée.
She planned to keep her promise to her father and be all that was agreeable to Holly – and then some.
And if, in the process, she happened to show Miss James up in the saddle – which, given the fact that the girl was a Londoner, shouldn’t be difficult – then so much the better.
Good thing she’d had free use of the Cleremont stables since she was a girl. It afforded her plenty of opportunity to ride, and their father had even plumped up for riding lessons for a couple of years. She could soar over a jump, post a trot with ease, and canter and gallop with the best of them.
Holly and Hugh might be engaged, she thought now as she neared the kitchen entrance where they’d all agreed to meet. Holly might be more fashionable, and more adept at making conversation and clever remarks.
But I, Lizzy thought smugly, can ride like a dream, and I have a bedroom full of ribbons and trophies to prove it. Hugh loved nothing more than a good bracing gallop across the fields.
She smiled as she brushed a bit of grass from her breeches. She might not have Holly’s money or connections. She might not have her fashion sense or even, at the moment, a job.
But she had determination in spades. And she intended to do everything she could to unseat Miss Holly James, and make Darcy see that he’d chosen the wrong girl.
***
As the morning sun inched higher in the sky outside her window, Charlotte rested her elbows on the sill and gazed down into the garden below, chin in hand, and scowled.
It wasn’t fair.
Look at them down there now, she thought resentfully, Emma and Daddy, sipping their coffee and tea and reading the newspapers in companionable silence. As if everything were wonderful and right in the world. As if her own world wasn’t ruined, thanks to the unreasonable and unjust actions of her father.
And now, thanks to his ridiculous edict, she couldn’t even see Ciaran. It was beyond unfair – it was cruel.
She flounced away from the window. The thought of spending the rest of the day – not to mention the rest of the summer – in this room, charming as it was, with its dressing table littered with cosmetics and its garden view and its walls plastered with posters of boy bands and sexy footballers – well, it drove her mad with frustration.
What on earth would she do with all of that time on her hands?
I’ll be filming at Cleremont on Monday, Ciaran had said yesterday while they were cruising on the Meryton. I hope to see you again.
Not if Daddy has anything to say about it, she thought now. She sat before her dressing table mirror and regarded herself disconsolately. Ciaran had told her to drop by to watch the filming anytime she liked, that he’d put in a word with the set manager.
Fat lot of good it was going to do her now.
Her resentful gaze went to the far window, the one with the deep sill that Emma had fashioned into a window seat with a comfy cushion. Kneeling on the cushion and looking out now, Charli saw the apple orchard, its blossoms already fallen and carpeting the ground in pink and white. An oak tree grew nearby, its branches reaching up to her window, and she smiled.
She’d often shimmied down those branches as a child, sneaking out of her room to go and play when she was grounded for some infraction or other…
Her eyes narrowed. She suddenly had a wonderful, crazy, brilliant idea.
She might be grounded. And she might not be able to leave the house in the normal way, via the front or back doors.
But her window – and the thick branches of the oak tree just outside – waited, ready to help her leave the dull environs of her bedroom behind, and go to Cleremont to visit Ciaran Duncan.
***
