A Weekend with Mr. Darcy by Victoria Connelly Page B

travel-worn tresses. She’d worn her hair long all her life and couldn’t imagine it being any other way. It was much admired and Jace loved it but it did take some upkeep, and Robyn often wondered what life would be like with a nice neat bob.
    She emptied her handbag of everything she didn’t need, which included two paperbacks and a bumper packet of mints, then left her room.
    She was halfway down the grand staircase when she caught the eye of Katherine in the hall.
    â€˜Robyn!’ she called. ‘Come and sit with me.’
    Robyn joined her in the hall and Katherine linked her arm through hers.
    â€˜Now, we’re just like a pair of Austen heroines, aren’t we?’ she said.
    Robyn smiled and the two of them walked to the back of the house and entered the room known as the Yellow Drawing Room. It was filled with mellow afternoon light and the windows looked out over the gardens down to the river.
    â€˜I have this view from my window,’ Katherine boasted.
    â€˜It’s beautiful here,’ Robyn said. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave.’
    â€˜I know,’ Katherine said. ‘I always feel like that too. It’s part of the magic of the conference. They know you’ll be back year after year. It gets ahold of you and never lets you go.’
    There were three enormous sofas in the room and lots of armchairs in brilliant colours and filling in the gaps some wooden chairs had been placed to accommodate all the guests.
    â€˜How many people are here?’ Robyn asked.
    â€˜There are usually twenty to thirty, but not everyone stays in the hall. There are only enough rooms here for about eighteen. Everyone else stays in nearby B and Bs.’
    Robyn swallowed as she thought of Jace again. She wished she could stop doing that.
    â€˜Let’s get a cup of tea,’ Katherine said, bringing Robyn back into the Austensian world of Purley that was filled with china tea cups rather than the Jace world which was filled with beer cans.
    Taking a cup of tea and a piece of sugary shortbread, they sat on a big squashy sofa the colour of lemons.
    â€˜Hey, there’s that suitcase man again,’ Robyn said, nodding towards the door as the dark-haired gentleman walked in.
    â€˜Oh,’ Katherine said.
    â€˜He is very handsome, don’t you think?’
    â€˜He’s very clumsy,’ Katherine replied, turning away.
    Robyn smiled. She could feel a romance coming on; she was quite sure of it. ‘He’s so fit-looking,’ she persisted. ‘But not in that awful I-spend-all-my time-in-a-gym way. He looks more like an athlete or something. Nice shirt too, don’t you think?’
    â€˜I’m doing my best not to think about him,’ Katherine said.
    Just as Robyn was contemplating an Austen-style declaration of love from the dark-haired gentleman to her new friend, a gentleman in a scarlet waistcoat entered the room, stood in front of the window and cleared his throat, instantly hushing the room.
    â€˜Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to welcome you to Purley Hall and to the Jane Austen Conference. Please put your hands together to welcome your hostess, Dame Pamela Harcourt.’
    A wondrous expectant hush befell the room, quickly followed by a riotous round of applause as all eyes turned to the door and the actress made her entrance.
    Robyn felt a strange fluttery feeling in her chest. She was actually nervous. She’d been a fan of Dame Pamela’s for years. In her youth, she had played an enchanting Elizabeth Bennet and a dazzlingly wild Marianne in TV adaptations, and now she struck terror into the heart of viewers with her portrayals of Fanny Ferrars Dashwood and Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
    Robyn’s head swivelled towards the door and her mouth dropped open as Dame Pamela made her entrance in a sweep of lilac. Her silvery hair had been swept up in a full meringue style that was pure theatre, and her