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“Writer,” he replied, “associate producer, and general dogsbody as the occasion warrants.” His smile was brief. “We’ve a very small budget, so we all wear more than one hat.”
“I can scarcely believe it.” Emma sank down into a chair next to her father and shook her head in disbelief. Her eyes widened. “Ten thousand pounds! We can fix the roof, and repair the stair treads, and replace the dining room wallpaper –”
“Simon and Jacquetta will take a look round first and provide their recommendations,” Knightley said. “You should hear something official from Lucy in the next day or two.”
“I know you told me you planned to contact the programme,” Mr Bennet said to Emma in wonderment. “But I didn’t suppose we’d actually be chosen!” He turned to Mark. “Doesn’t Mind Your Manors normally feature more impressive family piles? Places with – oh, I don’t know…Elizabethan knot gardens, and dozens and dozens of chimneys?”
“Usually. But not always. The problem with those grade-I and II listed properties is the English Heritage regulations. It makes doing anything subject to permissions and delays and reams of paperwork. Litchfield Manor may be modest in size, and it may not be listed, but it has historical appeal, as well as a charming country setting.” His glance came to rest on Emma. “It’s bucolic, if a bit of an anachronism.”
Before she could lob back a suitable retort, Lizzy turned to him.
“My sister and father are having a party to welcome us home on Sunday.” She met her new husband’s eyes and blushed. “Hugh and I just got back from our honeymoon.”
“Congratulations.” He came forward to shake Hugh and Lizzy’s hands in turn. “My best wishes to you both.”
“Why don’t you join us?” Lizzy ventured. “I’d love to see you. Give us a chance to catch up.”
He hesitated. “That’s very kind. But I’m afraid I’m returning to London this afternoon.”
“What a pity,” Emma said, and smiled sweetly. “I’m sure the demands of being a writer, associate producer, and general dogsbody keep you terribly busy.”
“On the other hand,” Knightley said, pausing as his eyes met Emma’s with a mixture of amusement and challenge, “I suppose I could stay over for a couple of days and get the lay of the land before the production company arrives. It might prove useful.”
“Wonderful,” Lizzy exclaimed. “We’ll see you here at noon, then?”
He pushed himself away from the kitchen counter. “I look forward to it.” After exchanging polite pleasantries with Hugh Darcy and Mr Bennet for a few moments longer, he made to leave. “It’s time I said goodbye. It was a pleasure to meet you Hugh, Mr Bennet.” His gaze flicked to Emma. “Miss Bennet.”
She pressed her lips together and managed a curt nod.
“You’ll find the Litchfield Inn provides excellent accommodation,” Hugh told him. “And the Regency in Longbourne is very good as well.”
“Thank you, and thank you all for your hospitality. I’d best be going.”
“Emma,” her father suggested, “why don’t you see Mr Knightley out?”
“Of course.” She followed Mark Knightley down the hall to the front door. For such a tall man, he moved with surprising grace.
If one cared to notice such things, she told herself. And she most certainly did not.
“Goodbye, Miss Bennet,” he said as she opened the door. “I’ll see you on Sunday, I expect.”
“I’ll be here,” she assured him. “Dressed in serviceable but unstylish clothes and reeking faintly of the barnyard, no doubt. Goodbye, Mr Knightley.”
He nodded and sketched a bow, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Goodbye.”
As she shut the door after him, Emma found his conceit – no matter how he might try to couch it in charm – beyond irritating.
She returned to the kitchen, to a lively conversation about the relative merits of Cornish pasties and saffron buns, and told herself she was glad that Mr Knightley was gone.
What a pity she’d have to see him again on Sunday. She was not looking forward to it in the least.
***
“Why did you invite him to the party?” Emma asked her sister later, where they remained behind at the kitchen table after Hugh and Mr Bennet went outside to sit on the terrace.
“Who?” Lizzy asked, feigning innocence. “Mr Knightley, do you mean?”
“Yes, of course, Mr Knightley!”
“Because he’s a friend, Emma, that’s why. We worked together in London. I told you that.”
She studied her sister. “A friend? Or was he something more?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” Emma lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Were you and Mark Knightley involved?”
Lizzy blushed. “No…yes. Not really,” she said, flustered, and went to the window to make sure her husband and father were still outside on the terrace. “We had a bit too much to drink at lunch one day, and there was a sort-of attraction between us, and –” she broke off and returned to her seat at the table. “We slept together. Just the once,” she added defensively, “and long before Hugh came back into my life.”
“Oh.” For the second time that day, Emma was at a loss for words.
“It shouldn’t have happened, and it didn’t, after that one time. Mark’s a lovely man, clever and talented, but we weren’t really suited. We were both at a loose end at the time, and bored, and it just…happened.”
“So it didn’t mean anything.”
“No. It was very –” Lizzy reddened. “Pleasant, and perhaps if I hadn’t lost my job, and we’d continued to work together…” She paused. “But it didn’t work out, Emma. There was never really anything between us.”
“He seems too arrogant by half.”
“Yes.” She smiled slightly. “He does come across that way, at first.”
“But –?” Emma prodded.
“But what? He’s a perfectly nice man, Em,” Lizzy said in exasperation. “He’s not all that different from you, now I think on it. Intelligent, well spoken, opinionated…” She cast a quick, considering glance at her sister. “And quite fanciable, too, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Emma pushed her chair back and took several lemons out of the refrigerator bin. “I’ll make a pitcher of lemonade and we can take it outside. But first,” she added as she turned around to face her sister, “I want to hear all about your honeymoon. Every romantic, jealousy-inducing detail.”
“All right,” Lizzy agreed. “Hand me some of those lemons and come and sit down.”
Emma set a bowl of lemons on the table and joined her sister. They talked of the honeymoon in Cornwall and the pleasures of sailing on the Rosings, as well as Lizzy’s complete and utter adoration for Hugh, and Mark Knightley was not mentioned again.
Saturday morning found Emma in the kitchen, in desperate need of a cup of coffee.
Such