Christmas with Mr Darcy (an Austen Addicts story) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  An Interview with Victoria Connelly

  About the Author

  Other Books by Victoria Connelly

  Christmas with Mr Darcy

  Victoria Connelly

  Copyright 2012 Victoria Connelly

  Cover image copyright 2012 Roy Connelly

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Victoria Connelly asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Published by Cuthland Press

  Dedicated to Toni and Joe. We miss you guys!

  Acknowledgements:

  First of all, I’d like to thank to all my lovely readers who have enjoyed the Austen Addicts’ Trilogy. Your kind messages are much cherished and I sincerely hope you like this little sequel.

  Special thanks to two wonderful friends who have shared their passion and knowledge of Jane Austen with me: Jane Odiwe and Amanda Grange. I adore your books!

  And heartfelt thanks to three very special ladies who have shone a spotlight on my trilogy: Laurel Ann Nattress, Maria Grazia and Meredith Esparza. Your support is much appreciated. Also, a big thank you to Ann Channon at The Jane Austen House Museum in Chawton for giving me the very great pleasure of seeing a copy of one of my books in Jane Austen’s home.

  Thanks to Jo Nadin, Rowan Coleman and Heather Zerfahs, Nicki Mattey, Dana Hartl Cally Taylor, Katrina Ray, Evelyn Krenkel, Jennifer Gardner Poellinger, Alexandra Brown, Viv Hampshire, Gail Mallin, Joanna Jacobs and Tina Campion for super-fast work getting me out of a potential pickle!

  And, as ever, to my husband Roy.

  * * *

  ‘One cannot have too large a party. A large party secures its own amusement.’ – Jane Austen, Emma

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  There were few sights more beautiful in Hampshire than Purley Hall in the snow. The faded red-bricked Georgian manor house stood proudly in the middle of the white landscape as if it were at the centre of a snow globe, and the fields surrounding it were smooth and sparkling in the December sunlight.

  The little village of Church Stinton looked like a Christmas card. Thatched roofs had been dusted with sugar-like snow, and the church was postcard-pretty, its great yew trees looking ethereal under their white cloaks.

  The south of England had been surprised by the first snow of the year but it hadn’t been hit as badly as the north of the country and, after a week of commuter chaos, the snow was beginning to disappear. Still, as Dame Pamela Harcourt looked out of the hall window, she couldn’t help feeling anxious.

  ‘Can you believe that more snow has been forecast? You don’t think it will put people off coming do you?’ she asked her brother. She’d been hosting Jane Austen conferences for several years now and not one had been cancelled yet.

  ‘Pammy, earthquakes and tornadoes couldn’t keep Austen fans away,’ Dan said from his position at the top of a ladder as he threaded a long garland of golden stars around the Christmas tree.

  Dame Pamela’s twitchy fingers reached up to the pearl choker she was wearing. It was ten o’clock in the morning but, with her billowing red velvet tunic and pearls adorning her ears, throat and wrists, she looked more suitable for a red-carpet event than a morning at home.

  She moved to stand under the enormous Christmas tree which had taken four men to place in the entrance hall. It was to be decorated in red, green and gold, and it was going to look perfect with its twinkling lights and heap of shiny, beribboned presents stacked underneath.

  ‘Pass me the baubles,’ Dan said a moment later and Dame Pamela handed him the first of the glass baubles. They gleamed like fat rubies in the light of the hall and she watched as they were placed oh-so-carefully at intervals around the tree.

  ‘You really are very good at this,’ she told her brother.

  ‘I should be after the number of times I’ve done it,’ he said, turning around and smiling at her.

  ‘My wonderful little brother!’ she said. ‘What would I do without you?’ She looked at his handsome profile and his shock of red-gold hair. She adored him and had been absolutely delighted when he’d married young Robyn – one of the attendees of a past Jane Austen conference. And now they had a little daughter, Cassandra. She smiled. She had a lot to thank Jane Austen for. Not only had the she provided her with an adorable sister-in-law but she had done wonders for her career too because Dame Pamela had had the privilege of playing Elizabeth Bennet and Marianne Dashwood in TV adaptations of Austen’s novels in her youth, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Fanny Ferrars Dashwood in more recent years. And then there were the conferences which she so looked forward to. It had started off with an annual conference in the autumn but that had proved so popular that she had decided to host a special Christmas conference too and no expense was going to be spared.

  Every guest bedroom had been decorated with evergreen garlands over the fireplaces and picture frames. A new dinner service had been bought: white edged with gold. There were crystal wine glasses too and enormous flower displays threaded with fairy lights. Great green garlands adorned the enormous front door and lights had been placed in the trees lining the driveway. Dame Pamela had also insisted that the temple on the island should be decorated with lights.

  Purley Hall had to look its very best for Christmas. Even if Dame Pamela was away from home at that time of year, decorations were still insisted upon but this year was even more special than usual because it was the very first Jane Austen Christmas conference. She smiled as she thought about the programme that lay ahead. There would be parlour games and competitions, there would be special guests and dancing – lots of dancing! It was going to be glorious – the very best Jane Austen conference yet. She said that every year, of course, but this time she really meant it.

  They had even found ‘The Purley Angel’ for the top of the Christmas tree. It had gone missing for years in one of the attic rooms but had been unearthed by Higgins the butler in a valiant expedition. He’d emerged from the attic, his grey hair even greyer than usual with cobwebs, and his bright blue waistcoat dulled with dust.

  Dame Pamela looked up at the old-fashioned angel now. The pale face was a little scuffed and Higgins had had to sew up a tiny tear in her gold dress but her gossamer wings were perfect and looked as if they were about to lift her to the very heavens.

  ‘There,’ Dan said a moment later as he came back down to earth from the ladder. The two of them stood side by side admiring their work. The tree looked wonderful – like something that would grace a magazine cover.

  ‘Do you think it’s enough?’ Dame Pamela asked. ‘I mean, one can never have too many baubles.’

  Dan shook his head. ‘No more baubles, Pammy. The tree will topple right over if we overload it and we don’t want any squashed Janeites, do we?’

  ‘Perish the thought!’ she said.

  It was then that Higgins the butler appeared, his gold waistcoat looking very Christmassy indeed.

  ‘What is it, Higgins?’ Dame Pamela asked.

  ‘Master Benedict has just been on th
e telephone,’ Higgins announced. ‘He said he’ll be arriving in time for lunch.’

  Dame Pamela frowned. ‘Benedict?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Higgins said.

  ‘But I didn’t invite him,’ Dame Pamela said. ‘Did you?’ She turned to her brother.

  Dan shook his head. ‘Certainly not! It seems like he’s invited himself.’

  Dame Pamela took in a very deep breath and then sighed it back out. ‘Oh, dear!’ she said. ‘That’s all we need!’

  Chapter 2

  Robyn Love Harcourt was writing the last of her Christmas cards. She’d left it horribly late this year but she’d been so busy organising the Christmas conference with Dame Pamela that her own private little Christmas had been put on hold. Still, it had all been such enormous fun. She’d been working happily as Dame Pamela’s PA since accepting the job offer after her first weekend at Purley and had fallen into her new role as if she’d been performing it her whole life.

  Together, they had pored over hundreds of magazines and websites for inspiration for the Christmas conference and, Robyn couldn’t help thinking with a laugh, perhaps they’d spent a little too much time discussing colour schemes.

  ‘Is pink and purple a bit too much?’ Dame Pamela had asked at one point, having found a company that sold pink glitter-ball baubles.

  Robyn had been swept along by the idea of Purley Hall decked out in romantic shades of pink and lustrous shades of purple but had then come back down to earth.

  ‘I think we’d better keep things traditional,’ she’d said at last, secretly craving the pink baubles they’d discovered. Perhaps Dan would let her decorate their own tree with them. She could just imagine how pretty Horseshoe Cottage would look. She’d already secretly purchased a couple of gingerbread garlands and two ropes of multi-coloured fairy lights which baby Cassie had loved when Robyn had switched them on.

  Once again, Robyn felt the warm glow of pride when she thought about her little girl. She still couldn’t believe how her life had changed since coming to the Jane Austen conference. She’d fallen madly in love with her host’s younger brother, Dan Harcourt, and she couldn’t believe that he’d returned her feelings. It had all been such a whirlwind. She’d given up her job in North Yorkshire and had driven herself and her hens all the way down to Hampshire to start her new life. She smiled as she remembered that dreadful journey with Lizzie, Lydia, Mrs Bennet, Lady Catherine, Miss Bingley and Wickham the cockerel. Named after characters from Pride and Prejudice, Robyn had since added three ex-factory hens to her flock: Elinor, Marianne and Emma. They’d arrived at Horseshoe Cottage with pale combs and threadbare breasts but they had embraced their new free-range life and had bloomed into beautiful birds.

  Robyn would often laugh with Dan at the life they’d created for themselves. There were dogs, horses, hens and a baby. It was permanent chaos but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Finishing the last of her Christmas cards and determining to get them in the post that day, Robyn wrapped Cassie up in her pink winter shawl, pushed a scarlet woolly hat onto her head and then plopped her into her buggy. It was an amazing buggy – Cassie’s own little four-wheel drive - which allowed them to face the very fiercest of footpaths and took the potholed lane to Horseshoe Cottage in its stride. Robyn pulled on her winter coat – a practical knee-length waxed jacket which Dame Pamela had bought her shortly after she’d moved to Hampshire.

  ‘You have to have wax if you’re going to live in the country,’ she’d told her and Robyn was now a convert. She loved the big deep pockets which could house all manner of things including a week’s supply of dog biscuits.

  Shoving her feet inside a pair of sturdy walking boots and squashing one of Dan’s tweed caps down onto her curls, Robyn and Cassie set out for Purley Hall, shutting the front door quickly before Biscuit and Moby could dash out into the lane, promising them a good walk later. She’d been given the morning off as they’d been working late the night before but she couldn’t wait any longer to see the Christmas tree.

  ‘Let’s surprise Daddy and Aunt Pammy,’ she said to Cassie.

  The lane looked magical under its light covering of snow although it made negotiating the potholes all the more difficult. Robyn took her time, pointing out the bright holly berries that lined the hedge and laughing when a robin landed right beside them.

  The air was crisp and Robyn’s breath turned into a little cloud in front of her face and her fingers were quickly numbed. She reached inside her voluminous pockets for her woolly gloves, glad of their warm comfort despite the fact that they smelled of Bonio.

  Taking the road into the village, she turned right along the driveway to Purley Hall. It was a route that she would never tire of for each season leant it its own beauty and it was particularly stunning in the snow with the bare branches of the trees rimed in white.

  Cassie’s buggy made it comfortably up the driveway, leaving a set of neat tracks behind it. Reaching the steps before the front door, Robyn used the boot scraper to remove the worst of the snow and then unclipped Cassie and scooped her up.

  ‘Look at the garland, Cassie!’ she said, pointing above the door where an evergreen garland was threaded with bright holly berries and large golden bows.

  There was no need to knock on the door because it was unlocked and Robyn stepped inside, feeling the warmth instantly embracing her. It was then that she saw the funniest sight – her husband was balancing precariously on top of a step ladder with his hand up an angel’s dress.

  ‘Dan!’ she cried.

  Dan turned around, toppled dangerously for a moment and then got down from the ladder.

  ‘Robyn!’ he said in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve come to see my favourite husband, of course!’

  ‘Liar!’ he said. ‘You’ve come to see the tree.’

  ‘Well, that too,’ she said with a smile. ‘It looks wonderful!’ The lights had been turned on and were twinkling amongst the dark branches and the gold, red and green baubles shone brightly.

  ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Dan said, ‘only I can’t seem to get this angel straight.’

  Robyn cocked her head to one side. ‘She does look as if she’s had one glass of mulled wine too many.’

  Dan nodded. ‘But at least this little angel looks perfect!’ he said, bending down to kiss his daughter’s pink cheek before kissing Robyn fully on the mouth. ‘Had a good morning?’

  ‘We have. I’ve finished all the Christmas cards at last. They’re going to be horribly late but that can’t be helped.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, removing the tweed cap from her head and running his fingers through her blonde curls. ‘You’ve been so tied up with all this conference stuff, I’m sure people will understand.’

  ‘I hope so. I feel awful about it.’

  ‘You worry too much,’ Dan said. ‘You’ve got to relax more.’

  Robyn nodded. ‘I guess,’ she said. ‘Where’s Pammy? I thought she’d be decorating the tree with you.’

  ‘Ah!’ Dan said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s trying to avoid a catastrophe.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It seems we’ll be having an extra guest for Christmas.’

  ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘Benedict.’

  ‘Your brother?’

  ‘One of them,’ Dan said. He actually had more brothers than he could keep track of but none of them really kept in touch – they were all so busy leading their own lives with their own families. ‘I can’t help thinking it would be so much easier if it was any one of them other than Benedict.’

  Robyn frowned. ‘You’ve never really told me much about your brothers,’ she said.

  ‘And with good reason.’

  ‘So tell me now,’ she said.

  Dan sighed. ‘Benedict is trouble,’ he said. ‘He’s always in some fix or other and expects Pammy to rescue him.’

  ‘And does she?’

 
; ‘Well, she has in the past but it’s cost her dearly and he never seems to learn his lesson.’

  ‘What does he do – gamble?’

  ‘Not gambling as such – he’s more into risky business ventures that he’s convinced will make him a millionaire only they tend to go wrong and he ends up in debt.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ For a moment, Robyn remembered one of Jane Austen’s brothers, Henry, who had become bankrupt.

  ‘So, he’s probably the last person Pammy wants turning up just as she’s hosting a Jane Austen conference,’ Dan said.

  Just then, Dame Pamela entered the hallway. ‘Robyn!’ she cried. ‘I thought you were having the morning off.’

  ‘I am. I just couldn’t resist taking a peek at the tree.’

  ‘Isn’t it splendid?’ Dame Pamela enthused.

  ‘Yes,’ Robyn said. ‘I’m so glad we went for traditional colours in the end.’

  ‘Me too,’ Dame Pamela said, ‘although perhaps we could try pink and purple next Christmas.’

  Dan rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

  ‘And how is my adorable niece?’ Dame Pamela asked, taking Cassie from Robyn and kissing her forehead.

  ‘Did you speak to Benedict?’ Dan asked.

  ‘I can’t get hold of him,’ Dame Pamela said. ‘He’s not answering his mobile.’

  ‘Of course he isn’t,’ Dan said, ‘because he knows you’d try to stop him coming here.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s a lot we can do,’ Dan said.

  ‘But he can’t stay here,’ Dame Pamela said. ‘I mean we’ve got room but it just wouldn’t work with the conference on. He’s bound to cause trouble of some sort – he always does!’

  ‘He can stay at ours if you prefer,’ Dan said.