What Would Lizzy Bennet Do? - Katie Oliver

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girl in trendy clothes, who Holly judged to be the youngest daughter, sat beside Emma. Her face was partly hidden beneath the brim of a stylish navy blue hat, and she made no secret of her boredom or of her desire to be elsewhere.

      But it was the middle Bennet girl, the one sitting furthest from her father on the end of the aisle, who caught Holly’s attention.

      This, she realised, must be Elizabeth Bennet.

      Unlike her sisters, who whispered and giggled behind their hands at something amusing they’d just seen, Elizabeth stared straight ahead, looking neither to the left or the right. Her hair was neither dark nor light, but an indeterminate shade of brown. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap.

      And her expression, Holly realised, was desolate.

      She felt a surge of sympathy for the girl. She must’ve taken the news of Holly’s engagement to Hugh very hard. Guilt assailed her.

      After all, it was because of her that Elizabeth had lost Hugh Darcy; if the two of them hadn’t met at her father’s department store and fallen in love last summer, Elizabeth might very well have ended up as Hugh’s fiancée, not her.

      And that, Holly suspected as she saw Lady Darcy’s attention focused on Elizabeth, was the outcome Hugh’s mother would probably much prefer.

      As if she, too, felt Holly’s eyes upon her, Elizabeth looked up and their gazes met. Unlike Emma, she didn’t smile, or nod.

      Instead, just for a moment, she levelled a cold stare at Holly, leaving no doubt as to the direction of her feelings or the depth of her dislike for Hugh Darcy’s new fiancée.

      Then she turned away, and the service began.

      ***

      Afterwards, as service ended and everyone stopped to greet Father Crowley on the church steps, Holly left Hugh talking to a knot of parishioners and paused in the vestry as Lady Darcy called out to her.

      ‘Miss James, before you leave, there’s someone here I’d very much like you to meet.’

      She turned, and found herself face to face with Mr Bennet and his trio of daughters.

      ‘It’s a very great pleasure, Miss James,’ their beaming father said, and took Holly’s hand in his. ‘I’m William Bennet and these young ladies are my daughters, Emma, Elizabeth and Charlotte.’

      They smiled and greeted her in turn, except for Elizabeth, who gave Holly a curt nod and regarded her coolly.

      ‘I adore your outfit,’ Charlotte piped up, eyeing Holly’s black-and-white-striped dress and rope-soled espadrilles in envy. ‘Those shoes are Topshop, aren’t they?’

      ‘Yes. You have a very good eye.’

      ‘She ought to,’ Emma said, and rolled her eyes. ‘She’s always got her face stuck in a fashion magazine.’

      ‘Better that,’ Charlotte retorted, ‘than moping around the house like Anna bloody Karenina all the time.’

      ‘Girls, girls,’ Mr Bennet chided. He turned his attention to Holly. ‘Miss James, if you and Mr Darcy are free next Sunday, and if you’re so inclined, we’re having a small garden party at Litchfield Manor. I’d be honoured if you could attend.’

      Hugh joined them and reached out to clasp Mr Bennet’s hand. ‘We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Holly?’

      She glanced at Hugh, and then at Elizabeth, who turned pointedly away to greet a neighbour.

      ‘Yes, of course we would,’ Holly said, and managed a smile. She took a deep breath. ‘We’d love to come to your garden party next Sunday, Mr Bennet. I can’t think of anything I’d like better.’

       Chapter 9

      The minute she and her sisters finished lunch, Charli asked to be excused and hurried into her room to change. It was time to get ready for her meeting – because it wasn’t a date, exactly – with Ciaran Duncan.

      They’d agreed, via several texts, to meet in Longbourne at the Carefree Cruises marina, where Ciaran said he had a surprise in store for her.

      I love a mystery! Charli texted. What shld I wear?

      Whatevr u like… but heels NOT recommended.

      No heels? she thought in dismay as she rummaged through her closet for a pair of sandals. She didn’t own a pair of shoes that weren’t platforms or wedges or teetering semi-stilettos (changed into once out of Daddy’s sight). She hoped Ciaran wasn’t one of those blokes who liked to hike, or ride bicycles, or something equally sporty and tiresome.

      Eventually she unearthed a pair of gladiator sandals she’d bought with her babysitting money and laced them up. The leather ties went half the way up her calves and looked very on trend with her bright yellow sundress.

      And Charli loved to be on trend.

      Next, she sat at her dressing table and applied pink lip gloss, feathered on a trace of blush and a flick of mascara, and sat back to survey the result.

      She looked, she decided, sort of like Brigitte Bardot, and practised a sexy pout. Perfect. Ciaran would be bowled over by her sexy, girl-next-door outfit and her innocent, schoolgirl look.

      Although she still actually was a schoolgirl, she thrust that thought firmly aside.

      Charli felt a thrill of anticipation. Today would be brilliant, absolutely brilliant, because she’d be spending the afternoon with Ciaran Duncan, and she couldn’t wait.

      She rubbed plenty of factor fifty sun cream onto her shoulders and chest, and dabbed a bit on her face for good measure – no pink lobster look for her, thank you very much – and stood up to go. Next on was a floppy-brimmed hat that looked very seventies boho and made her feel like a film star going incognito.

      Finally, she chucked her mobile, a tube of sun cream, lip gloss, and sunglasses into a straw tote, and left for her first-ever almost-date with a major international film star.

      ***

      When luncheon ended, Lord and Lady Darcy took their glasses of wine and went to sit outside and enjoy the sun. ‘Will you and Holly join us?’ Sarah Darcy asked Hugh as she paused beside the French doors that led to the terrace.

      ‘Thanks, but I think we’ll go into town and do a bit of sightseeing.’ He turned to her now. ‘How does that sound, darling?’

      ‘Perfect,’ she agreed, relieved at the thought of escaping Cleremont – and Hugh’s polite but frankly intimidating parents – at least for an afternoon. She took his arm. ‘It’s such a nice day, it’d be a shame to waste this gorgeous weather.’

      ‘Perhaps I should go along,’ Lady Sarah mused. ‘I know the village like the back of my hand. I could show you round.’

      Holly felt her smile slip. Oh, dear God, no…

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ her husband said shortly. ‘Leave the two young lovebirds to it, Sarah. Nothing worse than a third bloody wheel. Besides, you know the sun gives you brown spots.’

      She glared at him and, glass in hand, turned and stalked out through the French doors.

      ‘That was a close call,’ Hugh said, his voice low but amused as they crossed the hall to the front door. ‘Mum’s idea of sightseeing is visiting historical churches – unfortunately, they’re a dime a dozen round here – and reading the inscriptions on tombstones.’

      ‘Not exactly my idea of a rousing good time,’ Holly agreed with a grimace. ‘Where shall we go? Any ideas?’

      ‘I took the liberty of asking the cook to pack us a hamper with some wine and cheese – and chocolate – for later. I thought we might drive down to Longbourne and see

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