A Weekend with Mr Darcy: The perfect summer read for Austen addicts!. Victoria Connelly

which lined the table.

      White plates and bowls sat in front of the guests and two beautiful crystal glasses waited to be filled. It was all so sumptuous that Robyn was almost afraid to touch anything. She was so used to her old scratched dinner plates and her sturdy pottery mug.

      ‘I wonder if we’ll see our friend,’ Robyn said, eyeing up the other guests up and down the length of the great table.

      ‘Who’s that?’

      ‘The gentleman who likes staring at you so much,’ Robyn said.

      ‘I don’t think you can call such a man a gentleman,’ Katherine said. ‘If you looked up the word gentleman in the dictionary there’d be a picture of him - with a great red cross through it.’

      Robyn laughed.

      ‘And, if you really want to know where he is, he’s over there.’

      Robyn looked at the end of the table and saw the dark-haired man. ‘I wonder why he hasn’t introduced himself yet.’

      ‘I’m hoping he’s too embarrassed,’ Katherine said. ‘I can quite do without such complications, anyway.’

      Robyn’s eyes widened at this declaration and she waited, hoping that she might say more but she didn’t and the moment passed as the starters were served.

      It was when they were halfway through dinner that things began to get interesting. Robyn was just finishing her last mouthful of pavlova when a gentleman entered the room and quietly made his way to the head of the table. He was tall and his coppery blond hair flopped over his face in the kind of manner that suggested he wasn’t a part of the conference. He was wearing a loose shirt, dirt-encrusted trousers and a pair of boots, and Robyn recognized him at once. It was the handsome man on horseback she’d seen in the lane at Steventon. She watched as he approached Dame Pamela and whispered something in her ear. She made to get up out of her seat but the man placed a tanned hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

      What was that about? Robyn wondered. Did the man work at Purley for Dame Pamela or maybe he was her latest toy boy? It was a well-known fact that the dame liked her men a lot younger than herself and he was certainly handsome. Nobody could blame her if this was the latest handsome young man she’d chosen to help her learn her lines.

      Robyn watched as the man made to leave the room, his coppery hair catching the light of the candles and giving it the look of a halo.

      She tutted at herself. Honestly, what was she thinking of and why was she looking at his bottom? What would Jane Austen have made of such brazenness? She’d probably have laughed her head off and then written everything down so as not to forget anything, Robyn thought, quite sure that the author would have eyed up enough men’s bottoms in her time, the same as any other red-blooded woman. Especially in the fashions of her time. It was absolutely wicked but great fun to imagine the young author dreaming of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Captain Wentworth and what they might look like in their breeches. Wasn’t that a big part of why the film and television adaptations were so successful - because of the fine display of men’s bottoms?

      Robyn felt herself blushing and cursed her girlishness. She knew her whole face had a tendency to flame scarlet rather than colour her cheeks a subtle shade of pink and it was most embarrassing. She looked down at her lap for a moment, feeling the colour ebbing away before she dared to look up at the handsome young man again. She loved the way he walked the length of the room with such easy strides. He had that wonderful grace that comes from riding a horse well.

      But Robyn was soon distracted from her quiet admiration because, when he opened the door to leave, it almost crashed into his face as a second man stumbled into the room.

      ‘Oh my God!’ Robyn said, her mouth dropping open in horror. It was Jace.

      A sudden hush fell over the dining room as thirty pairs of eyes swivelled in the direction of the door as the dishevelled man crashed into a chair, sending its occupant sprawling across the table.

      Robyn’s blush returned with a vengeance as she watched the scene unfolding.

      ‘Where’s my gal?’ Jace announced, looking up and tripping over his own feet as he tried to move forward.

      ‘Excuse me!’ a voice boomed. It was the man in the scarlet waistcoat whom Robyn thought of as the master of ceremonies.

      ‘What?’ Jace said, standing back up to full height and swaying like a reed in the wind.

      ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’

      ‘Jace, mate. Who the hell are you?’

      There was a collective gasp of horror from around the table at this rude interruption and Robyn wanted to slide quietly under it until it was all over but it was too late to do anything because Jace had spotted her.

      ‘There’s my darlin’! There’s my Robbie!’

      ‘Robyn?’ Katherine asked. ‘Is he yours?’

      ‘No,’ Robyn said. ‘I mean yes. Kind of.’

      Katherine looked confused and Robyn swallowed hard as she realized that the whole room was now looking at her.

      ‘Really!’ the master of ceremonies said. ‘I must ask you to leave. This is a private function.’

      ‘Get your hands off me. I’m here to see my gal.’ Jace stumbled and swayed across the room, catching hold of the table in front of him as he reached Robyn. ‘Babes!’ he said. ‘I was worried about you. Your phone must be broken.’

      ‘It’s not broken, Jace,’ Robyn said in a whisper, hoping he’d lower his voice to match her own.

      ‘I had to come and see you - make sure you were all right.’

      Robyn stood up. ‘You shouldn’t be here!’

      ‘I was bored!’ he whined. ‘I’m stuck in that bloody B&B by myself.’

      Again, there were more gasps and mutterings from the guests at the intruder’s ripe language.

      ‘I told you not to come.’

      ‘Aw, babes!’ he said, making an attempt to hug her but she swerved out of the way. ‘Don’t be like that.’

      ‘You should have stayed at home!’ Robyn said, anger raising her voice. ‘This isn’t the place for you.’

      ‘Come with me,’ he said, grabbing her wrist.

      ‘You’re hurting me.’

      ‘What do you want to be with all these stiffs for when you could be having fun with me?’

      ‘Jace!’

      ‘Hey! Leave her alone.’ Somebody had stepped in between them and calmly but firmly pushed Jace away from Robyn. It was the handsome man on horseback. ‘I think you’d better leave. That’s your taxi outside, right?’

      Jace’s face had turned purple with rage. ‘You’re that toff whose horse kicked my car!’

      Robyn shook her head. ‘It didn’t kick your car, Jace.’

      ‘You are, aren’t you? Is that why you’re here?’ Jace asked, peering round the man to look at Robyn and almost toppling over in the process.

      ‘What are you talking about?’ Robyn said.

      ‘I know you women - you don’t care who the man is as long as he’s on a bloody horse. Put Jabba the bloody Hutt on a horse and you’d all be swooning over him!’

      ‘Jace, you need to lie down.’

      ‘Let’s get you into that taxi,’ the man said.

      ‘But I want to stay!’ Jace cried, shaking the man’s hand off him.

      ‘No, you don’t. We’ll be watching a film later,’ Robyn said. ‘You’ll be bored out of your mind if you stay.’

      ‘What