9.

Emily’s ecstatic cry from the partly open door taunted Miranda as she fled straight down the stairs, tears streaming down her cheeks. Passing Bingley and Jane on the half-landing, she ignored their worried inquiries, recoiling from their offers of help. It wasn’t until she reached the ground floor that she realised her mistake. She should have gone directly to her room, where she might have hid her distress from curious eyes, but that was impossible now.

She didn’t want to see the pity in Bingley and Jane’s faces, and the idea of walking past his room again was one she could not countenance.

Blindly opening the nearest door, Miranda found herself in the same small, dark room Sebastian had pulled her into on Thursday. Allowing herself to remember not just that day, but the whole week, when she had thought that they had something special between them, only increased her distress. She slumped against the wall, allowing the tears to roll unchecked.

She felt so angry ... so stupid. How could he be so cruel? If Sebastian had held her in any esteem, surely he would have shown some remorse, some mortification, when she had entered his room. Miranda remembered the moment when he had turned towards her; it was something she was never likely to forget. Not only had he not paused, even for a second, but the smile on his face, one of smug satisfaction, had said it all.

But no matter how much she might dwell on the evidence of his betrayal, she still couldn’t seem to stop crying. She had liked Sebastian, perhaps too much, and the pain at his deceit was like a knife twisting in her gut.

Wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand, she listened at the door. The hallway outside was silent. Quickly, she scurried down it, reaching the safety of the toilet. After blowing her streaming nose and blotting her eyes, she caught her reflection in the mirror. It was ravaged and blotchy.

The reflection of someone who had just had the world yanked out from underneath her feet.

Had Georgiana been willing to give him what she had not? She was his sister! Well, of course, she wasn’t really related to him at all, but Miranda had spent the whole week thinking of Georgiana—Emily—as Darcy’s sibling and it was going to take some time for her to adjust.

Had he ever cared for her at all? Or had it been just one more performance? If the latter, then he surely deserved an Oscar, for she had found him completely believable.

She felt the tears welling up behind her eyes again. She didn’t want to risk returning to her room and couldn’t face going to the green room, where too many questions would be asked. The only place she thought she might stand a chance of being alone for a while was in the garden.

She made it as far as the outer door. “Eliza, my dear!” Caroline cried effusively, very much still in character, but one glance at Miranda’s red, swollen eyes brought her to an abrupt stop. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the matter?”

Miranda waved her away. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, for that would mean explaining what she had witnessed and admitting her errors of judgement. She didn’t think she could do that and maintain her fragile composure. Besides, the last person she might confide in was Caroline. “Nothing’s wrong ... nothing ... please let me pass,” she begged, trying to squeeze through the doorway, blocked by the tall woman.

“Oh no ... I knew it.” Caroline’s voice no longer carried its customary feigned brightness. Instead it was warm and gentle, with a hint of an accent that Miranda hadn’t noticed before. “What has he done?” Seeing Miranda purse her lips and shake her head wordlessly, she put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as her voice softened to a whisper. “It’s okay. There’s no need to talk about it if you’d rather not, but I can’t think of leaving you alone. Not now.”

Ruth’s unexpected kindness broke down her defences in a way that Caroline Bingley could never have done, causing the well of emotion inside Miranda to overflow once more. Fresh tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

Watching Miranda fumble in her pockets for tissues, Ruth dug in her handbag for a moment before offering her handkerchief. “Come. Let’s find somewhere quiet where we can sit undisturbed. Then, if you want to, you can tell me all about it.”

No longer capable of putting up any sort of fight, Miranda allowed herself to be led over the lawn to the old stable block, where the cars were parked. It wasn’t quite as late as she’d thought and all she wanted was to put as much space between herself and Sebastian Fox as possible, so she wasn’t going to balk at anything that took her away from the Hall. Not that she expected him to follow her. Why would he, when Emily was happy to give him everything he wanted? She obviously had fewer scruples about casual sex and cared nothing for his behaviour.

Once in her car, Ruth drove towards the gravelled driveway, casting the occasional worried glance across at her passenger, but otherwise remaining silent; allowing Miranda to cry without judgement, and giving her time to dwell on her memories of that evening.

After a few minutes, just as they reached the park gates, Ruth’s mobile phone beeped. Fumbling in her bag, she handed the phone to Miranda and asked her if she would mind reading the message.

Miranda stared at the screen a moment before replying. “It’s asking whether I’m with you.”

“Who is it from?”

She looked down at Ruth’s phone again. “From Maria.”

“Does she know about this?”

Sniffling into a tissue, Miranda shook her head miserably. “No ... at least ... well, I didn’t speak to them but they definitely saw me. I was too upset to stop and chat.”

“Them? Was Gareth there too?”

“Yes, they were coming up the stairs as I passed them on the way down.” Miranda looked our of the car window for the first time, recognising the road leading to Lambley. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we might stop at that pub just outside Lambley.”

“Not the Green Man ... please.” It held far too many memories.

“No, don’t worry, there’s another one; the King’s Head. You’ve had a shock, so you could probably do with a drink.” Ruth paused uncertainly before adding, “And if you want a shoulder to cry on, I can be that too.”

Dabbing at her eyes again, Miranda looked up at Ruth. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why do you want to help me?”

“For the same reason I’ve been trying to drop hints all week. I’ve been there before and I learned my lesson the hard way. Believe me, I know exactly what you’re going through.”

As they pulled into the car park of the Kings Head, Ruth’s phone rang. Murmuring apologies, she answered it. “Hello? Yes ... she’s here with me.” She paused as the caller spoke, and Ruth rolled her eyes as she listened. “Stop worrying. No, she just needs some time alone. No, really, I don’t think that will help right now. You’ll just have to be patient.” Only when she’d ended the call did Ruth look at Miranda. “Well, I have to hand it to him, he’s very persistent when he wants to be.”

“Who? Sebastian?”

Ruth ignored her question, asking one of her own instead. “What exactly did Sebastian Fox do that finally made you realise what a worthless piece of scum he is?”

Miranda dropped her eyes to the floor as she relived the scene in her mind. Hesitantly, she began describing how she had gone to his room to speak to him, and hadn’t been able to make him hear. Her face felt hot as she admitted opening the door to check inside. “He wasn’t alone.”

Scenting a juicy bit of scandal, Ruth leaned closer. “It’s not like him to be so careless. Who was it?”

“Georgiana.”

“His sister?” Ruth laughed out loud. “I know she’s not really his sister, but still; we’ve all spent the week thinking of her as his sister, which is just as bad. Poor Miss Austen is probably turning in her grave at the thought of Darcy ravishing little Georgiana!”

“I’m not sure ravishing is quite the right word. She didn’t seem unwilling.”

“Stupid little bitch,” Ruth muttered as they ordered their drinks. They took seats at a corner table in the lounge bar. “Although I can’t say I’m completely surprised. The poor thing’s worshipped him almost from the first night, and she’s been profoundly jealous of you, my dear. Did you not notice that she could barely bring herself to speak to you?”

“Emily? No, I didn’t. I know we’ve never spoken much off-set, but I thought she was just shy.”

“There’s nothing shy about her, believe me. The fact of the matter was that you had what she wanted ... Sebastian’s full attention. Oh, she’s demure enough around the older ones, I’ll grant you, but I never said she couldn’t act. I don’t think young Emily quite understands what she’s getting into, but there’s no use me saying anything to her now. I tried to warn you, if you remember, but you didn’t want to listen.”

Miranda took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She now fully understood the consequence of the decision she had made at the beginning of the week. “It's all my own fault. It was my idea that we should call each other by our character names. As the week progressed, I got so used to them that began to think of everyone as the character they’ve been playing.” She sipped at her drink.

“You mean you were thinking of Mr. and Mrs Gardiner as though they were your aunt and uncle? I’d hardly call Gerald a responsible role model. An ageing queen with a fondness for younger men? And what about Aunt Gardiner? I know you haven’t really had the chance to get to know Alison very well, but she wouldn’t recognise maternal instinct if it bit her on the backside.”

Laughing now, Miranda pointed out that Mrs Green, at least, was very much like her characters.

“Well, Lady Catherine I would agree with, but I thought she could have made her Mrs Reynolds a little more ... humble.”

“And, of course, let’s not forget Miss Bingley.”

“Oh my God! You’ve spent the week thinking me a living re-incarnation of Caroline Bingley! I suppose I should take that as a compliment of my acting abilities.” Although Ruth sounded aggrieved, the smile on her face confirmed that she wasn’t truly offended.

Feeling a little guilty that she’d misjudged Ruth, she apologised. “We haven’t spoken much this week either, have we?”

Ruth sat back, twisting the glass between her fingers. “No, not really. I didn’t help that by spending so much time in my room.”

“I assumed you thought we weren’t good enough to associate with.”

Ruth laughed. “Yes, now you mention it I can see how that might have looked. Actually, most of my evenings are spent writing.”

“What? Like a novel?”

“No, a play. You know that there’s never enough acting work to go around. I’m hoping to supplement my income as a playwright.”

Laughing, Miranda said, “And here I was thinking that Miss Bingley didn’t want to mix with the lower orders!”

“Caroline Bingley!” She snorted. “I’ll have you know that I wouldn’t be seen dead in orange!”

Now that she had lost some of her ‘posh’ accent and superior airs, Miranda realised that Ruth Swale didn’t seem half as much like Caroline as she had before.

“There’s no wonder you wouldn’t listen to my warnings if you thought I was only out to grab the handsome bastard for myself.” Pausing a moment, Ruth looked thoughtfully into her half empty wine glass, her expression saddened and serious. “Unfortunately, I know him too well. Although I can be pleasant to him—even laugh and joke with him when necessary—it’s a long time since I placed any trust in what Sebastian Fox has to say.”

“He hurt you too?”

“Yes,” she replied simply. “Whatever you’re feeling at this moment, I promise you that I went down the same road four years ago. In the end, he did much the same with me, except in my case I found him in the dressing room with two dancers. He thinks women are put on this earth solely for his convenience and doesn’t know how to be faithful.”

Ordering coffees, they relaxed into companionable conversation as Ruth allowed Miranda to process her thoughts, interspersing encouragement and sympathy in equal measure. She went through everything they had done over the week, her initial feelings about the actor who would be playing Darcy, and how their relationship had grown. When she mentioned the theories Sebastian had raised about Darcy’s relationship with Elizabeth, and his insistence that Darcy would have seduced her prior to marriage, Ruth cursed.

“Oh my God! That must be it. I bet he was acting out one of his sick fantasies!” Her face twisted in disgust. “Sebastian has always enjoyed play-acting, both on and off stage. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had arrived here with the intention of bedding Elizabeth Bennet! I’ll say one thing for him, he’ll always rise to a challenge.” Ruth reached for her cup, watching Miranda over the rim. After a moments silence, she said, “You can tell me to mind my own business if you like, but I assume he got what he wanted?”

Shaking her head, Miranda described their meeting in the Orangery, where he came so close. Only her own annoyance that he insisted on calling her Elizabeth had prevented him from achieving his objective. “Until that point, he had made me feel so special. I never once suspected that he might only want to seduce me for his own entertainment.”

“I can easily imagine him getting a kick out of the thing with the names. I should have made more of an effort to keep you two apart.” She reached out and patted her hand. “You deserve someone better.”

“Well, whoever it is, he won’t be an actor. I’ve learned my lesson now ... they’re all the same.”

“No, darling, they most certainly are not. Take Gareth, for example. He’s nothing like Sebastian.”

“Yes, Jane is a lucky girl.”

“You mean Maria?”

Miranda slapped her head playfully. “Of course I do! They’ve spent so much time together this week, it would have been hard not to think of them as Jane and Bingley. They look very happy together.”

Ruth didn’t reply immediately, seemingly content to allow the silence to stretch between them. As though making a decision, she said, “They’re not a couple, you know.”

“Who, Maria and Gareth?”

“Yes. There’s nothing going on between them. They’re just friends.”

Laughing weakly, Miranda put down her glass. “I don’t think that can be right. They spend every hour together.”

“Yes, but only as friends. I sat with them more than once while you were out with Sebastian. She’s missing her ... her family back home and he ... well, he needed someone to talk to. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

Sighing, Miranda said, “Well, that’s something else I got wrong this week.” Ruth nodded, draining her glass in a silence she had no wish to break. Although she felt better after talking with Ruth, she still had a lot to think about. How on earth could she go back to the Hall tonight? Just the idea of returning seemed impossible. It was one thing to have Ruth feeling sorry for her, but she didn’t think she’d be able to stomach the pitying glances of the other cast members.

As it happened, she didn't need to worry about the others. The Hall was dark and silent when they returned, except for some muffled voices coming from behind the door to the green room. Ruth ushered her straight up the stairs and remained by her side until they reached Miranda’s door. She couldn’t allow Ruth to leave without thanking her for her help.

“It was my pleasure. Do you need me to stay a while?”

Miranda shook her head. “Thanks, but I'm quite exhausted. I think I'll go straight to bed.”

“Well, I'm at the far end if you need me. The last door on the left, nearest the bathroom.”

Thanking Ruth again, Miranda entered her tiny bedroom and shut the door firmly behind her; wishing, for the first time, that it had a lock. She changed quickly and switched the light off before climbing into bed and pulled the covers over her shoulder. It had been a long, emotional day and she hoped that a good nights sleep would leave her sufficiently refreshed to deal with the trial of working with Sebastian.

If she could just get through the last day, she would never have to see him again.

~<>@<>~

The room was still dark when she woke. Miranda lay silently in the darkness, but couldn’t immediately identify what had disturbed her. She was about to close her eyes again when she heard a sound in the corridor outside her room. The only light came from the misty moonlight beyond her curtains, but there was enough to see the door open and a shadowy figure slip through. Whoever it was moved across to the side of the bed and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Miranda?”

“Sebastian?” Miranda couldn’t decide whether she was more angry or scared by his unexpected visit. “Go away,” she told him firmly. “Leave now or ... or I swear I’ll scream!” Miranda had never screamed in her life before, unless a script had demanded it, but she was prepared to make an exception in this instance.

He grabbed both of her shoulders and brought his face closer to hers. “Dearest, loveliest Miranda! Please let me say what I have to say, then I will leave you alone if you want me to. I promise.”

Miranda shuddered as she smelled the alcohol on his breath. Although he wasn’t slurring his words, she could tell that he wasn’t wholly sober, and even using her own name he didn’t sound sincere. “There’s nothing you can say that’ll make any difference. I’m not going to help you satisfy some sick fantasy. You’ll have to find someone else to play Elizabeth Bennet with you,” she hissed angrily.

He pulled her towards him in the darkness, holding her close as he whispered tenderly in her ear. “I’m hurt that you have so little trust in me. I might have thought like that in the beginning, but as I spent more time with you I realised that it’s you ... Miranda ... that I want ... not Elizabeth. Please ... let me have another chance ... on whatever terms you want to set.” He brought one hand up to run his fingers through her hair. “I’ll admit that I’m weak. After spending the day suffering the most exquisite frustration, I was too tired to refuse when Emily came to my room.” He paused, kissing her ear and her neck. “I tried to make her leave, but she was ... so ... damned ... insistent.”

Miranda steeled herself against the pleading in his voice. She was honest enough to admit that his tactic might have worked had she not seen the malicious glint in his eye when she’d entered his room earlier. She would not succumb to him now. “You didn’t seem to be making much of an effort to resist her when I came in.”

“I know, I know ... and I’m truly ashamed of myself, but you must understand. All the time I was with her, I was only thinking of you.”

“What did you say?”

Heeding no warning in her cold tone, he repeated his words; explaining how, by closing his eyes, he imagined that it was Miranda who was writhing beneath him. As his hand traced a path up her arm, he whispered in the dark what he would like to do to her ... if she would only give him another chance.

Miranda tried to get up, but she found herself pinned to the bed by his weight. “Get off ... and get out,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“But Miranda, if we could just―”

“I said out!” her voice growing louder. She wriggled around until she was able to free herself, but she was still trapped in the corner of the room, with Sebastian lying across the bed. He would only have to swing his legs a little to block her way to the door.

“Li ... Miranda ... be reasonable!”

“I am being reasonable. If I were being unreasonable I would be screaming the house down by now.” A knock on the door made them both pause. Miranda called for whoever it was to come in, and was relieved to see Maria and Gareth peering into the room. She turned back to Sebastian. “Now will you leave?”

“Of course.” A wide grin spread over his face and he bowed, accepting the temporary defeat with all the grace he could muster. “We can talk more in the morning.”

Once Sebastian left, Maria came closer, checking that she was okay. Miranda admitted that she was a little shaken. She had not been absolutely convinced that she would have persuaded him to leave if they hadn’t arrived when they did, so she was very grateful that someone had come to save her.

Maria looked around the room. “Are you going to be okay on your own for the rest of the night? He won’t come back, will he?”

Miranda wasn’t sure whether Sebastian would try to come back or not, and she knew that the chances of her sleeping again tonight were slim.

“Look, why don’t you sit with me?” Maria offered. “There’s not a lot of room for two, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“Or you two could use my room.” Gareth stepped back across the corridor, opening the door to show a table lamp glowing brightly.

The space beyond was wider than those occupied by the girls on the other side of the corridor. Although his bed was just as small as theirs, a patched but generously stuffed arm chair sat in the corner, and a pack of cards were laid out on a small table that had been pulled in front of it, giving Miranda the impression that its occupant rarely slept.

Her room had no space for the table, let alone the chair.

She looked at Maria, who nodded her agreement, before turning back to Gareth. “But where will you sleep?”

“I’ll sleep here.” He grinned as he pointed back to Miranda’s room. “That way, if Sebastian does decide to come back, he’ll get more than he bargained for.”

Grateful for their generous support, Miranda thanked them both before crossing the hall into Gareth’s room. As she snuggled into the surprisingly comfortable armchair, her eyes drifted to a row of small photographs on the chest of drawers. She picked up the closest one, looking at the picture of Gareth, standing in a garden with a pretty young woman. Remembering what Ruth had said about his friendship with Maria, she could not help but wonder who she was.

As Miranda replaced the frame, a piece of paper dislodged from behind it and fell to the floor. She reached down, intending to return it to its hiding place, but the print caught her eye and she found herself opening the page out before she had even realised what she was doing. The name on the top seemed familiar, but Miranda couldn’t remember where she’d seen it before. As she scanned the sheet, it came back to her.

It was addressed to Gareth Jones, confirming receipt of forty eight pounds ... for the cameo brooch she had received from Sebastian.

For a few seconds her mind ran over the circumstances that might have made it possible for Gareth to buy the brooch on behalf of Sebastian; but they were hardly friends any more, were they? She closed her eyes. There was only one way Gareth could be in possession of the receipt, and that was if he had bought it for her and Sebastian had been lying all along.

No, that couldn’t be right. How had Sebastian known about the brooch? Recalling their conversation she quickly realised that he hadn’t known anything of it ... until she had told him. He had manipulated the conversation to appear that he knew what she was talking about, when he really had no idea. He had taken the credit for a gift he had never even laid eyes on, and the rearranged meeting that night was wholly to his own benefit.

If Gareth had been the one to give her the brooch, then he had probably waited for her in the gardens; for how long she could not guess. How might things have played out had she gone to the fountain instead of the orangery? She would have talked to Gareth; she wouldn’t have met Sebastian. Would it have changed anything?

Hearing noises in the hall, Miranda quickly fixed the paper in its hiding place, and was just returning the frame as Maria walked in. Covering her embarrassment, she pointed to the young woman in the photograph. “Do you know who this is?”

“Yes, that's Gareth’s twin sister.”

“Not identical, obviously.”

Maria smiled sleepily. “No. They don’t look anything alike, do they?”

Miranda agreed. She gazed at the picture again, staring into the eyes of the man who had bought one of the nicest presents she’d ever received. In return she had stood him up, albeit unintentionally. Even so, Gareth didn’t appear to hold it against her. He had still been willing to let them use his room. She recalled what Ruth had said about his friendship with Maria. “Will you be seeing Gareth again when this is over?”

“No ... not really. I know what you’ve been thinking. He’s a great guy and really easy to talk to, but I’m already in a relationship. Gareth and I are just friends.”

“For two people who weren’t together, you certainly had plenty to talk about.”

Maria leaned against her elbow; her eyes narrowing as she shook her head in disbelief. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“Idea?”

“There’s only one thing Gareth ever wants to talk about, one thing he’s interested in ... and that’s you.”

For a moment, Miranda didn’t know what to say. “I don’t believe you.”

“And I can understand why, but it’s true. He’s been smitten with you since the moment he set eyes on you and the saddest part is that you barely noticed he was alive because you spent all your time drooling over Fox. Gareth is everything that Sebastian will never be. He’s kind and thoughtful, considerate, loving. In short, he’s a really nice guy. A true gentleman.”

“Why didn’t he say something?”

“Do you think he didn’t try?”

Miranda cast her mind back over the week, remembering all those times when Gareth had tried to talk to her; times when she’d been too busy thinking about Darcy to notice. “I didn’t realise.”

“Obviously.” Maria’s voice was cold. Even though they weren’t in the sort of relationship Miranda had expected, it was clear that she cared for Gareth’s wellbeing a great deal, and didn’t think much of Miranda’s excuses.

“What should I do?”

“Well, for now you should try and get some sleep. We have one more day of performance tomorrow. As far as Gareth’s concerned, if you’re not interested then tell him straight. He doesn’t deserve to be left hanging.”

They settled down for the rest of the night; Maria on the bed, while Miranda sunk into the armchair. But she knew that sleep was out of the question now.

She had far too much to think about.

~«o»@«o»~

10.

The following morning, Miranda was surprised to find that she had fallen asleep after all, despite the fact that her brain had continued to pick over the day’s events and revelations into the early hours. Her back felt stiff from having been curled up in the chair and her eyes were swollen and sticky from the tears she had shed.

Jane returned to her empty room to get changed, but Miranda couldn’t get washed or dressed for breakfast until she’d fetched some items from across the corridor, or better still, swapped rooms so she was back in her own. She felt a little nervous as she knocked on her door, recalling the last time she had been in a similar position and had found more than she had bargained for.

Hearing no response, Miranda’s first thought was to leave, but she stopped herself. Gareth was not Sebastian. She had no reason to believe that he wouldn’t be alone, and it was time for them all to get up anyway. Tapping a little louder on the door, she turned the handle and poked her head into the room, calling Gareth’s name as she did so. In the semi-darkness she could see his lone shape under the covers; his long legs stretching right to the foot of the bed. As her eyes grew accustomed to the light she moved a little closer, noticing how his hand clutched her pillow as he slept. She moved nearer still, catching her thigh against the sharp corner of the chest of drawers. Miranda stifled her yell and rubbed vigorously at the sore spot. When she looked back to the bed, he was leaning up on one elbow, watching her.

For a fleeting moment, neither spoke. He broke the silence first, with a sleepy, “Good morning,” but it was his smile that brought everything home to her. He seemed so genuinely pleased to see her that she couldn’t help thinking how different the week might have ended had she not been so prejudiced in favour of Sebastian, to the exclusion of all else. The fact that Gareth apparently cared for her, despite Miranda giving him no encouragement whatsoever, only made her feel worse. She tried to speak—just a simple ‘hello’—but the word caught in her throat as a sob erupted from deep in her chest.

Turning, Miranda ran back across the hall, tired and unable to cope with all the conflicting emotions that were running through her. Sinking onto the end of the bed in Gareth’s room, she reached for the box of tissues that Maria had left and buried her face in a large sheet of two-ply. Less than a minute later Gareth joined her, silently drawing her head down to rest against his shoulder as he wrapped a comforting arm around her. Miranda knew that it was wrong of her to accept his comfort when she could offer him nothing in return, but she hadn’t the energy left to pull away.

There was no awkwardness in his touch, as was so often displayed by the male species when confronting a crying female; no cheery pats on the back, or murmured platitudes. Instead he remained still and quiet, supporting her until the tears abated.

When she calmed down he was ready with a fresh tissue to blot her eyes. “Feeling better?”

She sniffed. “Yes, thank you.”

“You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?”

Miranda knew he must be thinking that she’d spent the night worrying about Sebastian. He could not have known that, for at least half the night, she’d been mulling over the enigma that was Gareth Jones. The revelation that he had been the mystery gift giver had filled her thoughts as Miranda had tossed and turned in his chair. “No, not much.”

Should she take the opportunity to clear the air? Miranda wasn’t sure this was the best time, not when she had to face Sebastian across the breakfast table in the next half hour. However, despite what might happen downstairs, she couldn’t wait any longer. If she put it off now, she might never pluck up the courage again. Leaving Gareth on the bed, Miranda took three small steps to the other side of the room, but didn’t turn around. “I’m really sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologise. You’re tired, and you had a tough day yesterday. It’s understandable that you’re still a bit—”

“No … not for crying. I’m … I’m sorry that I didn’t meet you yesterday.”

He didn’t answer straight away. The room was so quiet that she could hear Gareth breathing. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. “It’s alright. I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” She paused, almost too ashamed to explain herself. “I didn’t ignore your note. I just ... I thought Sebastian had sent it.”

She heard the muffled clunk of springs as he shifted on the bed. “I didn’t sign the note because I wasn’t sure you would turn up if you knew it came from me.”

Miranda tried to imagine what her reaction would have been if she’d read Gareth’s name on that paper. There was no doubt that she would have been surprised, but Miranda thought she would still have gone to the meeting place; if only to tell him that she couldn’t accept the brooch. She didn’t want Gareth thinking that it was him she hadn’t wanted to meet. “Sebastian gave me the impression that he’d bought the brooch. I had no reason to doubt him ... no idea that ... well, I never expected that someone else might have sent me anything so ... so perfect.”

“You said you liked it. It seemed a shame to let it go just because you can’t afford it right now. I even bartered him down a little.” He sounded tired as he added, “Look, there’s no strings attached, Miranda. Just think of it as an early Christmas present.”

Her heart sank. “That’s very kind of you, but I still feel uncomfortable accepting it.”

“There wasn’t any awkwardness when you believed Sebastian had bought it though, was there?”

The barest hint of accusation in his tone made her realise just how hard this week had been for him too. She looked over her shoulder and found his mossy green eyes staring straight at her, as though he had been willing her to turn around and look at him all the time she had been speaking. “No, I didn’t, but that was when I thought he ... he liked me; before I realised what sort of person he really is.”

“You haven’t even begun to understand what he’s really like, but believe me, you’re better off out of it.”

“Better off with you, do you mean?” she whispered; half hoping, half fearing his reply.

Gareth looked away, shaking his head sadly. “No, I know that isn’t going to happen. Not that I didn’t want it, but ...” His voice tailed off as those shoulders lifted in his familiar shrug.

Miranda was still deciding how best to reply to that when there was a knock on the door. Gareth jumped up to open it, and found Maria standing outside with a tray full of toast and a selection of jams and marmalades for Miranda’s breakfast. Ignoring the tension in the room, which felt as thick as porridge, Maria said, “I didn’t know which sort you preferred, so I bought one of each. Come on; eat up, while the toast’s still warm.”

While Miranda accepted the food gratefully, Gareth slipped silently out of the door. She watched him go; her relief at speaking out mingled with a regret that she hadn’t been aware of his feelings sooner.

~<>@<>~

Miranda managed to keep her distance from Sebastian during most of the morning’s scenes. Fortunately, the majority of cast members were sympathetic to her situation. Only two of their group remained aloof; Alison, who—contrary to her role as loving Aunt Gardiner—insisted it was none of her business, and Emily, who remained unrepentant.

She had been particularly nervous before the first meeting at Pemberley, when Elizabeth and Darcy were supposed to share a conversation at some distance from her Aunt and Uncle. Sebastian had been on his best behaviour, almost as though nothing had changed between them, while Mr. Gardiner had helpfully encouraged his ‘wife’ to maintain a shorter distance between the two couples than had been the case earlier in the week.

In the half an hour or so between each scene, Gareth and Maria kept her company, sometimes joined by Ruth, Mrs Green —now dressed as Lady Catherine—or even occasionally Mr. Gardiner. Gerald annoyed the others by suggesting that perhaps Miranda should give Sebastian the benefit of the doubt, but Miranda wasn’t offended. She knew he only meant it for the best.

During these breaks, Sebastian tried on more than one occasion to draw her away from her companions so they could talk privately, but Maria was adamant that she wasn't going anywhere. Miranda felt a little like a rag doll, being pulled in different directions as they squabbled over possession of her. While they argued, Gareth sat quietly by her side, like a silent guard dog; ignoring Sebastian and refusing to rise to any of the snide comments he made. His serenity, in the midst of the arguments, made Miranda feel more grateful for his presence, but didn’t improve Sebastian’s mood at all.

“Anyway, what business is this of yours, Jones?” Sebastian asked angrily, when Gareth had once again supported Miranda’s decision to remain with her friends.

“You’re making Miranda uncomfortable,” he explained calmly. “If you really cared, you would leave her alone.”

Sebastian sneered. “Don’t worry, I’m going ... but you haven’t won yet.”

As they watched ‘Mr. Darcy’ stalk away, an imposing figure in his tall beaver hat, Miranda asked what Sebastian had meant by his last words.

“I don’t know,” Gareth admitted, his brow creased. “Unless he thinks this is some sort of competition.”

“With me as the prize?”

He shrugged. “Possibly. All I know is that this is one game where there will be no winner, and that’s not an outcome Sebastian can easily accept.”

Miranda cringed at his poignant acknowledgement that he was losing just as much as Sebastian.

After a brief lunch, they still had a little time to kill before the afternoon performances began, so Gareth offered to walk with Miranda to the lake and back; a method of avoiding Sebastian that she approved of wholeheartedly. As they skirted the water, discussing the previous night’s events, Miranda felt comfortable enough to relive the moment when she had opened Sebastian’s door.

Seeing her distress at recalling such unpleasant memories, Gareth quickly moved the conversation on to other, less painful topics and Miranda found herself telling them about her younger sister who was completing her first year at university. In return, Gareth spoke of his three sisters―two elder and one his twin―and how, as the single boy in a household dominated by females, he had been dressed in ribbons and bows by his older sisters. “I only wish they had treated me more like Ken than Barbie.”

Miranda laughed and realised how good it felt to be able to laugh about something. “Do you think it was all that dressing up that made you want to become an actor?”

Gareth was silent for a few seconds, before he answered. “You could say that acting is the family business. My father has been on the stage since he was fifteen, but he’s never wanted any of us to follow in his footsteps. He tried his best to dissuade me, and when that didn’t work he tried to help me ... but I didn’t want his help either. It was something I had to do for myself.” He bent down and picked up a stick from the ground; twisting it around in his hands before throwing it into the trees. “How about you?”

“My uncle used to manage a small provincial theatre. I never saw him much when I was growing up, but when I was twelve my parents died and my sister and I had to go to live with them.”

“I’m sorry.”

Although Miranda had mourned her parents long ago, she still missed them both, and receiving Gareth’s sympathy brought tears to her eyes once more. She dashed them away with the tip of a finger. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I don’t usually cry when I speak about them. I’m just over emotional today.”

Taking a large, white handkerchief from the pocket of his tailcoat, Gareth dried her eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked. Not after what you went through yesterday. I said it without thinking,” he murmured.

Miranda looked up into his eyes as he blotted her lower lids with the soft cotton. He was so gentle, for a man. She could not help but wonder whether it was the influence of being surrounded by all those sisters that had moulded him in that way. “You’re probably one of the most thoughtful men I’ve ever met. Any other man with a crying female on his hands would be running in the opposite direction by now.”

“Perhaps I’m used to being someone’s shoulder to cry on. Carys, that’s my twin, was always in tears about something when we were kids.”

“Carys? That’s a beautiful name!”

Gareth smiled. “My father is very proud of his Welsh heritage. Even though his work precludes him living there full time, we still have a cottage near Cardigan Bay that we use for holidays.” Then, as though he had grown uncomfortable talking about himself, Gareth looked at his pocket watch and declared that it was time to return to the house.

They wandered back along the edge of the water, their previous easy conversation lost somewhere amongst the bobbing reeds. Miranda felt sure that Gareth had been on the brink of saying something, but whatever it was remained unspoken. When they returned to the Hall, Ruth came to discuss the upcoming scene, where Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner were due to meet the ladies at Pemberley, and Miranda watched as Gareth, knowing she was safe with Ruth, walked away.

That was something she would have to get used to.

~<>@<>~

Later that afternoon, as she came to the end of the last Lambton Inn scene, Miranda sighed with relief as Mr. Darcy bid her farewell and walked out of the door. It had been the worst experience of the day so far; the first of the two scenes where Elizabeth and Darcy were alone together. Even before the first line had been spoken, Sebastian had flashed her an evil grin. He knew that while they were performing together she was alone; no longer able to rely on her friends for support or protection. As the crowd in front of her clapped their hands enthusiastically, Sebastian returned to the room to take his bow.

Without any warning, he caught her hand up in his, gripping it tightly as they waited for the audience to quieten. She wanted to pull away from him—his touch disgusted her—but she could not do so in front of all those people.

When the public started to wander away, he drew her closer. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Miranda said nothing.

“Getting the silent treatment, am I? What about the end of the day? How will you manage when we come to that last scene?” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “How will you feel when I claim that final kiss?”

“Believe me, the only thing I’ll feel is sick.”

He pulled her to his side as they left the room through the door at the back. “I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself, do you? I know what will happen. Once our lips come together you won’t be able to resist me.”

“Oh, I think she’ll manage.” Maria, standing in the inner hallway, replied on her behalf.

“Yes, he does think very highly of himself, doesn’t he?” Mrs Green added from behind her. “You ... Fox ... You’re not needed here right now, but I believe that Rivers-Smithe woman is looking for you. Perhaps she wants to give you a more personal sort of farewell, before her husband comes home.”

Faced with Maria’s cold stare and Mrs Green’s obvious dismissal, Sebastian scowled at Miranda, bowed mockingly to the three of them and walked away.

“What was that about Mrs Rivers-Smithe?” Maria whispered.

Mrs Green looked up and down the corridor. “Her husband travels a lot. The rumour is that she gets very lonely.” She glanced sympathetically at Miranda. “And it seems our Mr. Darcy has been particularly attentive. Mrs Grant told me that she caught him one morning ... returning very early.” She gave Miranda an apologetic look.

“It’s okay,” she reassured the older woman. “I’m no longer surprised by anything I hear about Sebastian.”

They moved through the dark corridors, crowded with vases on pedestals, oil paintings and suits of armour, until Maria reached the room where she would receive her final proposal of the week from Mr. Bingley. Gareth was eroding the ancient carpet as he paced back and forth along it, but he stopped and smiled when he saw them. “Has everything been okay?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Mrs Green replied confidently.

Mrs Grant appeared then, checking that they were ready for the next scene. Maria and Gareth went in to take their places on the sofa, while Mrs Green moved a few paces down the corridor to sit down. Miranda couldn’t sit. Instead she found herself wandering up and down as she replayed the final scene of the day in her head and wondered how she would ever get through it.

“You’re best off not worrying about it, you know,” Mrs Green said.

Miranda knew that, but it didn’t stop her dwelling on it. To take her mind off her upcoming problems, she listened through the slightly open door as Mr. Bingley made his nervous but hopeful proposal to the eldest Miss Bennet. She could not help but admire the way Gareth played his part.

“I worked with his father, many years ago.”

She looked at Mrs Green. “Sebastian’s?”

“No! Gareth’s father; Ieuan Hall-Jones. His ‘Hamlet’ was one of the best I’ve ever seen. I’ve even heard him compared to Gielgud.”

“Sir Ieuan Hall-Jones? The one who won an Oscar for that film where he played Anthony Hopkins’ brother?”

Mrs Green smiled mistily, as though she was reliving a pleasant memory. “Yes. I don’t think Gareth is quite as handsome as his father, but he still has time to mature yet.”

Miranda was stunned. Gareth had told her that his father was an actor, but never once had he hinted that he was anything out of the norm. She’d imagined Mr. Jones senior travelling about the country in rep, not gracing the red carpets of Hollywood or filming blockbuster movies in exotic locations. “I had no idea. Gareth never said a word.”

“Well, he’s not likely to, is he? Doesn’t want to be accused of riding his father’s coattails.”

Recalling Sebastian’s comments regarding their time at RADA, Miranda knew that Gareth had probably suffered from that inference already, despite his insistence that he wanted to forge a career for himself. She remembered her own time at stage school, where the most bullied member of the class was the daughter of a well known TV presenter. It wasn’t always easy being the child of someone famous.

“You’d have done much better with Gareth than with Sebastian, you know,” Mrs Green pronounced sagely. “He’s a nice boy, and just the sort that would treat you as you deserved.”

“Yes, I know,” Miranda whispered. “But it’s too late now.” Finding out how Gareth truly felt about her had opened her eyes to a lot of things. With a little time, she had no doubts that she might easily be able to reciprocate his feelings, but time was the one thing she had run out of.

“Don’t be silly. Unlike me, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t waste it.”

It wasn’t long before Maria and Gareth joined them, and the four cast members wandered down the corridor to prepare for the next performance. Maria and Miranda took their places as the audience filed into the room, settling themselves behind the ubiquitous red rope.

“He has made me so happy,” Jane cried, by way of opening the scene. “By telling me that he was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not believed it possible.”

“I suspected as much,” Miranda replied. “But how did he account for it?”

“It must have been his sister’s doing. They were certainly no friends to his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we can never be what we once were to each other.”

The same could be said for me and Sebastian. No matter how many times he had tried to apologise, she couldn’t forget the hurt of his betrayal, or forgive him for claiming that he had given her the cameo. Neither could she forgive herself for being so blind to her surroundings. Forcing herself to smile—as much at Maria’s enthusiastic portrayal of Jane than following any stage directions—Miranda said, “That is the most unforgiving speech that I ever heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley’s pretended regard.”

“Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent would have prevented his coming down again!”

She had effectively persuaded Gareth of her own indifference by becoming involved with Sebastian. It was a sobering thought. “He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his modesty.”

As Jane delivered a lengthy monologue on the excellent qualities of Mr. Bingley—extolling his virtues and excusing his foibles—Miranda’s thoughts wandered to Gareth. Many of the things Jane praised about Bingley could equally apply to the man behind the character. Although a very skilled actor, Gareth had always faded into the background when off stage; more self effacing when compared to Sebastian’s bolder, confident personality, but yet Maria didn’t think him particularly shy or reticent. Perhaps, Miranda thought, he was only shy with her.

“I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!” Jane continued happily. “Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed above them all? If I could but see you as happy. If there were but such another man for you!”

Miranda swore silently as the audience applauded. The man she had found was nothing more than a modern day rake, while the one who had truly cared for her had remained unacknowledged. 

She didn’t see Sebastian again until just before their last scene. Bolstered by Mrs Green’s particular brand of well-meant bossiness, the conversation between Lady Catherine and Elizabeth had gone very well. Unlike Elizabeth Bennet, Miranda felt very comfortable working with the older woman. She suffered no nonsense, and wouldn’t allow Sebastian near her during their short breaks between performances.

If she could just get through this last twenty minutes, then her ordeal would be over.

Almost as soon as they began, Miranda sensed trouble brewing. When she turned to speak to Mr. Darcy, he had a smile on his face; a very satisfied expression that was at odds with the moment. “Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister.” Miranda examined the stitching on her glove, not wanting to look him in the eye. “Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”

“I am sorry ... exceedingly sorry,” Sebastian replied with feeling, “that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted.”

While he might try and apologise, Miranda knew that it was he who was the untrustworthy one. “You must not blame my aunt. Lydia’s thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them.”

He took two steps, closing the gap between them. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with emotion. “If you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.” 

For a brief moment, she felt herself wavering. That last sentence had sounded so sincere, and he had gone to such lengths to speak to her, that she wondered if she had treated him too harshly. However, at that moment, that image of him turning to face her—and particularly the smile on his face as he did so—flashed across her memory, and she mentally shook herself.

As Mr. Darcy spoke the lines she was now so familiar with, she felt her stomach churning, as though she had eaten bad shellfish. Miranda looked down; knowing what was to come next and dreading it. “Mr. Darcy. My wishes are so very different ... from your previous declaration that I imagine you must think my feelings to be quite fickle. My sentiments have changed so much that it is almost impossible for me to sufficiently express my ... my gratitude of your happy assurances.”

She could not bear to look, but quickly felt his hands clasp her arms, pulling her to him. As she slid her hands up to his chest—more to keep him at arms length than for support—she hoped that she didn’t appear as reluctant as she felt. Sebastian was forced to tilt her chin up with his fingers before leaning closer for that kiss. As his lips moved over hers, she had to admit that he was trying very hard, but she could no longer drum up any enthusiasm for it.

Now she knew what sort of person he really was, whatever feelings she had thought she felt revealed themselves as nothing more than an infatuation with a name ... a character in a story.

Mr. Darcy’s kiss no longer held any power over her.

As they stepped apart, amid the applause of the audience, she caught Sebastian staring at her. Those chocolate brown eyes she had once admired were troubled. It was clear that he had finally got the message from the complete absence of emotion in her kiss. Miranda was able to take her bow with her head held high and Sebastian made no attempt to impede her as she left the room.

This was one occasion when Mr. Darcy would not win the heart of Elizabeth Bennet.

~«o»@«o»~

Epilogue

As Miranda zipped up her duffel, she felt like it was only yesterday that she had first stepped into her rabbit-hutch sized room on the top floor of Exley Hall. While she had been happy for the majority of the week, it was the less pleasant memories she would take away with her.

Shrugging her coat over her shoulders, Miranda left her room almost at the same time as Gareth’s door opened across the corridor. She smiled, and when he held out his hand—offering to carry her bag—she gave it up without argument. Neither had much to say as they left Exley Hall for the last time, and when they arrived in the car park there was an awkward silence as he put her bag down next to her car.

“I’m sorry you’ve had such a tough week, Miranda.”

“The whole week wasn’t so terrible, only the last two days really. The surroundings are truly beautiful and I’ve met some very nice people.”

“Me too.” Gareth looked across the half-empty car park, as though searching the shrubbery for inspiration. He took in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Do you have much lined up for the coming weeks?”

“Just some auditions. Nothing definite.” Miranda hoped he might ask for her number, but again he lapsed into silence. Finally, she decided she’d had enough of the torture. “Well, I really should say goodbye to Maria.” She held out her hand for a friendly handshake. “Goodbye, Gareth. I was grateful for your help this week.”

He looked down at her outstretched hand a moment, before taking it in his. However, instead of shaking her hand he leaned closer, quickly kissing her cheek. “Look after yourself,” he whispered hoarsely, and then he was gone.

Miranda watched as he climbed into his car, waved once and left. She couldn’t help but feel that an opportunity had left with him. She walked across to where Maria and Ruth were waiting for her.

“Well?” they both asked eagerly.

“Well what?”

“What did he say? Did you agree to meet him?”

“He didn’t ask.”

An unladylike growl emanated from Maria’s throat. “And I thought I was supposed to be Jane! After everything that has happened this week, you can hardly blame him for being reticent. After all, few people have the heart to love without encouragement.”

“Oh, very good,” Ruth murmured her appreciation for the apposite quotation. Maria just grinned.

Miranda sighed. “But is it fair for me to encourage him? It seems dishonest to pretend an affection I don’t feel. ”

Ruth hugged her. “Oh, Miranda! If you’d only realise how similar you both are, you’d have fewer doubts. Just because you weren’t attracted to him from the beginning, that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work out between you.”

“Well, it’s not likely to work out now, is it?”

“Don’t worry!” Maria insisted cheerfully. “I have your number; we’ll have to meet up for a coffee sometime. I just happen to have Gareth’s number too. If you ever want me to arrange a date or something, just say the word and let Aunty Maria fix everything.”

Their final farewells were liberally sprinkled with tears. Some of the troupe had already left, and Miranda was pleased to see that Sebastian’s white Alfa was one of those no longer in the car park. Trevor came to say his goodbyes, as did Gerald and Mrs Green. Miranda was surprised to see Gerald handing over a small wad of notes to the former Mrs Reynolds. “Her winnings,” he explained cheerfully. “Take my advice ... don’t play cards with saintly looking housekeepers.”

“Evidence of a miss-spent youth, I’m afraid,” Mrs Green chuckled, before climbing into her little Mini.

With a final goodbye, Miranda got into her own car and set off down the long gravelled drive. As she drove through the imposing iron gates, she looked back at the house and sighed. She was ten days older and definitely wiser for the experience.

~<>@<>~

As Miranda walked into the busy coffee shop, she scanned the clusters of chairs and comfy sofas, looking for the one face she would recognise. Maria had clearly not arrived yet. Checking her watch, she found there was still five minutes before the time they had agreed on. Miranda ordered a coffee, sat down at an empty table and turned her attention to the window, where Saturday shoppers were passing, loaded down by heavy bags; some suffering from the heat of what was turning out to be an unusually warm day.

When they had first met up a fortnight after their week at Exley Hall had ended, Maria had introduced her to Helen, and heard how the blonde and bubbly young woman had been her companion and partner for the past five years. While it had taken a few moments for Miranda to readjust her thinking—it hadn’t been so long ago that she had mentally paired Maria up with Gareth—they were obviously very happy and comfortable in each other’s company.

The situation had explained a lot, particularly how Maria could have spent so much time with Gareth while still remaining just friends.

“Is this seat taken?”

Startled by the question, Miranda turned to the speaker, a smile growing on her face. She would have recognised his voice anywhere. “Not at the moment.”

“Good.” He sat in the chair next to hers and waved to the waitress. “Small world.”

“Yes, very. If you have the time to wait, Maria should be here soon.”

After ordering a coffee, Gareth sat back in his chair. “You arranged to meet her here?”

“Yes. She shouldn’t be too long now.” Miranda looked at her watch to cover her nervousness. “Actually, she’s a bit late.”

He smiled. “I think you’ll be waiting a while. I was supposed to be meeting Maria here too.”

“You?” She had a horrible feeling that Aunty Maria had grown tired of waiting, although Miranda couldn’t in all honesty say that she was terribly upset by her unilateral decision. She just hoped that Gareth wasn’t too disappointed.

“Mm.” Gareth sipped his drink. “So … what have you been doing the last few weeks?”

Miranda would have liked to say ‘thinking of you’, and it would have been the truth. Gareth had been on her mind a lot lately; sentiments tinged with regret more often than not. Instead, she chickened out and talked about the auditions she was due to attend that week. Her agent was also hinting that he had high hopes for a series of adverts for coffee that might prove to be her ‘big break’. She practised sipping from her coffee cup while enthusiastically savouring the aroma, which had them both laughing. When the waitress came to their table to see if they wanted any more coffee, a shared look was all it took to set them off again.

After a while, Gareth looked around the room. “I don’t think Maria’s coming, do you?” he asked, his grin giving lie to any idea she had that he might have been unhappy with their friend’s duplicity.

“No. I have a feeling that she never had any intention of meeting either of us today.”

Gareth’s expression grew worried as he looked at Miranda across the table. “Does it bother you? The fact that Maria tricked us into meeting here?”

Miranda smiled reassuringly. “Not at all. Actually, I’m ... pleased. After leaving Exley Hall, I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you again.”

“Really?”

Miranda nodded, finding it hard to put into words her conviction that she had overlooked an opportunity during that week; something she’d been too blind to see until it was too late. But her nod seemed to be enough. Grinning like a kid at Christmas, Gareth asked Miranda if she’d like to go for a walk. She agreed and Gareth moved around the table to help her on with her coat. As the jacket settled across her shoulders, he recognised the familiar broach, pinned to one of her lapels. “You’re wearing the cameo.”

“Yes. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

He traced around the edge of the brooch with his finger. “I didn’t know whether you’d want to wear it or not. I was worried that it might bring back too many bad memories.” Shaking her head, she reassured him that the only memories she associated with the cameo were good ones.

As they wandered down the street, Miranda could not help but contrast it with their last conversation in Derbyshire. Then, their dialogue had been stilted and awkward, but now they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Gareth told her about some of the things he had been working on since leaving Exley Hall. He was excited by the news that he had been picked to audition for a new BBC television series that was planned for the following year. “My Dad’s in talks for a part in the same production ... playing my father, of course.”

“And are you happy with that?”

“What made you change your mind?”

Gareth guided her into a disused shop doorway, out of the way of the passing pedestrians. “Perhaps it had something to do with learning to grab opportunities when they arise, instead of letting them slip through my fingers.” Looking into his eyes, Miranda knew that his words referred to more than just the chance to work with his father. “Dad’s not getting any younger, and I don’t want any more regrets in my life.”

He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently; almost as though convincing himself that she was really there. “Do you know what I mean?”

~«o»@«o»~

Authors Note:

You might be feeling a little miffed with me now. What's this got to do with Jane Austen Fanfiction? Well, on the face of it, not a lot. I've committed the cardinal sin of not having Elizabeth and Darcy together at the end, which is the equivalent of selling your grandmother to white slave traders; something that just isn't done.

Or did I? Look past the names of these characters and focus on their behaviour. Miranda admitted that she wasn't like Elizabeth right from the beginning. Was Sebastian really Darcy, just because he was using his name? No. He was no more Darcy than Gareth was Bingley, but I'd like to think that Gareth had more in common with Jane Austen's fictional character Fitzwilliam Darcy than his collegue ever did. I didn't consciously write Sebastian as a Wickham-type, although I know a lot of people have seen him that way.

We all read a lot of fanfiction, and feel that we know how these characters should behave. I'm afraid I traded on your own prejudices as readers to make this story work to my advantage.

I hope you can forgive me for it. ;-)

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