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

he’d eaten most of them himself but it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?

      She’d been going out with Jason Collins, or ‘Jace’ as he preferred to be known, since school and it was more of a routine now rather than a romance. For years, he’d insisted that his pals called him ‘Ace’ but it had never taken, which didn’t surprise Robyn in the least. For one thing, he still lived with his mother in a house on the edge of Skipton. It was a lovely property with three large bedrooms and a garden that Robyn’s chickens would adore but a young man of twenty-five shouldn’t still be living with his mother, having all his laundry done and meals cooked by her. It just wasn’t natural. Not that Robyn had ever felt the urge to live with him - oh, no! But if she was ever going to live with somebody then it would be someone who was a little bit more independent than Jace.

      And I could never marry him, anyway, Robyn suddenly thought. For one thing, I’d be Mrs Collins! She grinned naughtily as she thought of the ridiculous character of Mr Collins in Pride and Prejudice - one of literature’s worst sycophants. Robyn Collins. It would never work; it was just another one of the tragedies about their relationship. But the biggest tragedy of all was the fact that she didn’t love him any more.

      She tried desperately to think about their early, heady days together when they’d been at secondary school. The holding hands under the table during lessons, the secret kisses in the corridor on the way to class and the little love notes that were constantly being confiscated by infuriated teachers. Where had all that love gone? Had it not been strong enough to leap the gulf between adolescence and adulthood? Had it been left behind along with homework, teenage mood swings and compulsory PE?

      ‘I’d better get moving,’ Robyn told Judith, shaking the images of the past from her mind. ‘Jace will be here in an hour and I want to get packed before then.’

      ‘Well, don’t you go worrying about this lot,’ Judith said, nodding towards the chickens. ‘They’ll be fine.’

      ‘Thanks,’ Robyn said with a smile before heading indoors.

      The terraced cottage was cool and dark after the brightness of the garden and Robyn headed upstairs to her bedroom at the front of the house. Packing was simple - as many dresses and books as she could fit in her suitcase. She never liked to go anywhere without a copy of one of Jane Austen’s big six. Persuasion was usually a favourite because it was so slim and easily slipped into a handbag but Pride and Prejudice was her preferred choice if room permitted because it never failed to raise a smile whether one happened to be waiting for a train that was over an hour late or sitting in the dentist’s knowing that the drill was awaiting you.

      She sighed with pleasure as she placed a copy of each of the novels in her case. Well, you couldn’t go to a Jane Austen conference without one of each, could you? She’d chosen her oldest versions that didn’t mind being beaten up a bit in transit. There was the copy of Sense and Sensibility with the coffee stain over the scene where Willoughby scoops Marianne up in his arms, and the edition of Emma that had taken a tumble into the bath and was now the size of an accordion.

      Her newer copies of the books were downstairs, their covers shiny and pristine and the spines only faintly cracked. There was nothing more perfect to Robyn than a brand-new copy of an Austen novel.

      ‘Rob!’ a voice called from downstairs.

      ‘Jace?’ Robyn said in surprise.

      ‘Well, of course it’s Jace!’

      Robyn’s mouth screwed up in frustration. He was early.

      Leaving her packing, she ventured downstairs and was surprised to see that Jace had been doing some packing of his own.

      ‘What’s that?’ she asked.

      ‘A suitcase, dopey,’ he said, dropping it to the floor and ruffling her hair before grazing her cheek with a stubbly kiss. ‘I’m coming with you.’

      ‘What?’ she asked, following him through to the living room as he settled himself on the sofa, kicking off his shoes and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

      ‘I’m coming with you,’ he said, giving a loud sniff. ‘Going to drive you down to Hereford.’

      ‘Hampshire,’ Robyn said.

      ‘Can’t have you getting the train on your own, can I?’

      ‘But I’ve got my ticket.’

      ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said.

      ‘But Jace - it’s such a long way and it sounds as if you don’t even know where Hampshire is.’

      ‘I’m making a weekend of it. Booked a B&B just down the road from your Parley Hall place.’

      ‘Purley Hall.’

      ‘That’s it!’

      Robyn frowned. This was the last thing she’d expected and the very last thing she wanted. The Jane Austen weekend was her own special sanctuary and Jace was the last person she wanted to share it with.

      ‘It’s really not your sort of thing at all,’ she told him. ‘And I doubt there’s room for you at the conference. All the places are booked.’

      ‘I’m not coming to the conference, silly! No way!’

      ‘Then what are you going to do?’

      He shrugged as he picked up the remote control and switched on the TV. ‘Just hang out,’ he said.

      ‘Hang out where?’

      ‘Wherever you want me to,’ he said, giving a lascivious wink. ‘Although I have heard there’s a beer festival on at a nearby pub. That sounds right up my street. Anyway, we don’t spend enough time together. I thought it would be nice to have a weekend away.’

      ‘But we won’t be together, Jace. I’ll be at the conference - all weekend.’

      ‘There’ll still be time to see each other, won’t there?’

      Robyn stared at him. What was this? Jace had never been the sort to suggest a weekend away together before. Maybe he’d got wind of her wanting to break up with him. Maybe this was his way of trying to smooth things over.

      ‘Got a beer?’ he asked.

      Robyn walked through to the kitchen and retrieved a can of beer from the fridge. What on earth was she going to do? The thought of Jace ‘hanging out’ anywhere near Jane Austen country was just frightful.

      ‘Any crisps?’ he asked as she entered the room with the beer.

      She shook her head.

      ‘Nuts?’

      She returned to the kitchen and came back with a bag of fruit and nuts.

      Jace grimaced. ‘No salty ones?’

      ‘No,’ she said, wincing as he placed his beer can on her newest copy of Pride and Prejudice. He saw where she was looking.

      ‘Oh, sorry, babes,’ he said, picking it up. Robyn saw the dark circle embossed on Elizabeth Bennet’s face and couldn’t help noticing that Jace’s feet, which were now sockless, were dangerously close to the BBC DVD of Persuasion - a personal favourite of hers.

      With such atrocities as these before her, she thought it best that she left the room.

       Chapter Four

      Warwick Lawton picked up the last letter he’d received from Katherine Roberts and read it again. The smile didn’t leave his face until the very end when he gave a weary sigh and scratched his chin. She didn’t know, did she? She had absolutely no idea that Lorna Warwick was a man. But why should she? The biography in the front of his novels was as fictional as the novels