A Gift to Remember Read online

  Oliver looked impatient. ‘It is good. As a matter of fact, it’s great. I can’t believe you prefer sappy Austen to something with real merit. What is it with all you women who’d rather read about Colin Farrell in a dripping shirt than something of substance?’

  Darcy’s mouth dropped open at the man’s blatant rudeness. She was about to retort that Austen was anything other than ‘sappy’ when at that moment, her mobile phone buzzed in her pocket. ‘Excuse me.’ She fished it out and looked at the screen. It was a text from Ashley asking if Darcy wouldn’t mind moving her shift around tomorrow. The graduate daughter of a successful city real-estate developer, and thus only in the job for the fun rather than the money, Ashley was notoriously undependable, but very sweet and the customers adored her.

  It meant that Darcy would be opening up first thing, but given that the evening had been going rapidly downhill from the outset, there was little point in her staying around here. The request might actually be a blessing in disguise.

  She looked back at Oliver and realised that whatever retort she might make would be wasted on this overgrown teenager. He might be the current hot-shot in publishing and be in talks with Spielberg, but he was sorely lacking in manners, and indeed literary knowledge.

  ‘I think you’ll find it’s Colin Firth you’re referring to, not Colin Farrell. And you know what they say: you should never judge a book by its movie.’ Smiling tightly, she added, ‘You will have to excuse me; I need to make a call. Good luck with your book. Nice meeting you.’

  Darcy made her way to the front of the restaurant and typed an affirmative response to Ashley. At that moment, Katherine approached her from behind.

  ‘Where are you going? Why aren’t you talking to Oliver?’

  Darcy glanced over her shoulder to where Oliver Martin was now chatting animatedly with a man holding an Iron Man helmet, guessing that that conversation would be much more to his liking. She wondered briefly if the guy had worn the helmet on the way here.

  ‘Aunt Katherine, please. Before you start, I am not talking to that man because we have absolutely nothing in common. He might be involved in books, and I might be interested in books, but a match that does not make.’

  Her aunt sighed deeply. ‘Oh, you are just impossible sometimes. How are you ever going to find someone? Such a shame. You do know that the movie based on Will Anderson’s books opens this week, don’t you? I knew at the time that he was an incredible catch, and of course now his career’s about to go even more stellar. I think he was interested in you too.’

  ‘The same guy was already madly in love with someone else, Aunt Katherine,’ Darcy argued tiredly. ‘His own reflection. When are you going to realise that I’m just not interested in men who are all about success and career? I want someone who’s fun and intelligent, and who can actually hold a conversation with someone other than themselves.’

  ‘Don’t we all?’ her aunt replied airily. Then she said more kindly, ‘I just want you to be happy, darling. This city’s not an easy place to be alone, especially around the holidays, and—’

  ‘But I’m not alone. I have lots of friends, and I have you too, don’t I? OK, I know you’re heading to St Barts for Christmas this year . . .’

  Notwithstanding that her aunt would be going out of town, she and Katherine just didn’t have that sort of close relationship.

  Darcy thought about their first Christmas together, over twenty years ago – not long after her parents’ accident. She was still only a child though she felt like she’d grown up almost overnight upon losing her beloved family, and moving in with her mother’s younger sister, who in truth she barely knew. Her forbidding and somewhat austere aunt had always frightened Darcy a little, and she seemed to possess little of Lauren’s natural warmth and gentle ways.

  She recalled how, that first, sad Christmas, Katherine’s modern Brooklyn condo had barely been decorated for the season; nothing but a small artificial tree in the corner of the living room and a holly wreath on the door – a sharp contrast to the usual lavish adornments of her family’s classic brick townhouse in the older part of the borough.

  There was no lovingly prepared Christmas dinner on the day – Katherine ordered Thai take-out. Nor was there a big fuss around the opening of presents like Darcy was used to.

  In fact, it was almost as though her aunt had forgotten about the holiday altogether. Darcy wasn’t sure if this was down to Katherine’s still-raw grief over losing her only sister a few months before, or her bewilderment at the sudden overwhelming responsibility of becoming guardian to a twelve-year-old girl. Most likely a combination of both.

  Though given her own heartbreak following the accident, Darcy hadn’t felt that there was much to celebrate. Still, Christmas had always been one of her favourite times of the year and the lack of any traditional nod towards the festivities merely served to highlight her loneliness and the gaping difference between her old life and the new.

  Over the years, and mostly through her own efforts, Darcy had gradually brought her aunt round to celebrating the season, though Katherine typically preferred to spend the holidays in warmer climes, whereas Darcy couldn’t conceive of being anywhere else but Manhattan at this time of year.

  And even though in reality she and Katherine had spent only five years living under the same roof, Darcy had always felt that she’d been cramping her vivacious aunt’s style, which was why she’d tried to stay as independent as possible and make her own way in life as soon as she could. She wasn’t sure why her aunt’s sense of responsibility now seemed to extend to finding Darcy a mate. Perhaps if she was coupled or married off, then in Katherine’s mind that burden of duty (perceived or otherwise) would finally end? There was no denying that Katherine took a businesslike approach to most things in life. It was part of the reason she’d been so successful in navigating Manhattan’s cut-throat events scene. Darcy knew that her own lack of ambition was another aspect of her character that her aunt didn’t understand, but she was happy with her life and her job and her beloved books. Sure, she could do with a little more excitement in her life, but she figured most people felt like that from time to time.

  Katherine put a hand on Darcy’s arm in a rare show of tenderness. ‘Of course you have me.’ She watched in surprise as Darcy started to take out her gloves and scarf. ‘You’re not leaving now, are you? But you just got here! I promise I won’t introduce you to any other . . .’

  ‘No, honestly, thanks, but I think I have had enough for one night. Besides, I have an early start in the morning.’

  ‘Well, if you insist. But you certainly can’t ride that bike home now,’ her aunt argued, indicating the thickly falling snow outside. ‘It’s too dangerous and it’s getting late. We will order you a cab and they can put your bike in the trunk.’

  Moments later, Darcy was tucked into a Yellow Cab with her aunt peering in the window. The cab driver pulled away from the kerb, as her aunt hit one resounding hand on the roof of the car. Darcy waved a weak goodbye.

  ‘You said West Houston?’ the driver asked as he turned the corner.

  ‘No,’ she said resolutely, ‘change of plans. Just take me up a couple of blocks and turn right. I can get my bike out and ride home from there.’

  Snowflakes landing on her cheeks was one of her favourite sensations, and she would much rather brave the elements than be cooped up in an airless vehicle.

  ‘In this weather?’ grunted the driver.

  Darcy nodded. ‘In this weather,’ she repeated, in a tone that indicated the conversation was over. ‘But thanks anyway,’ she added, not wanting to be rude.

  Moments later, as the driver unloaded her bike and she reached into her messenger bag to get his fare, her hand touched her old dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice. She felt a sudden longing to get home as quickly as possible, make a cup of chamomile tea, change into her pyjamas and get under the covers with her namesake, Mr Darcy. Her mum had been a big fan of Austen too, she thought, smiling fondly as she recall
ed when Lauren Archer had first introduced her to her all-time favourite novel. Darcy had been too young to understand much of the subject-matter at the time, but over the years found herself returning again and again to Austen’s famous tale, finding comfort in the story and, she supposed, viewing it as a kind of tangible connection to her late mother.

  She slung a leg over her bike as the cab driver got back in his vehicle and disappeared. Alone on the cold street, the snow fell across her shoulders and she tentatively pushed off, knowing she would have to ride with caution.

  Darcy stared in front of her and navigated the empty streets as snowflakes danced in front of her, happier now in the knowledge that she was in control of her own destiny and would be home soon.

  In the words of Groucho Marx, she thought wryly: I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it.

  Chapter 3

  Dreams are illustrations . . . from the book your soul is writing about you. Marsha Norman

  The setting sun dropped languidly behind the lake at the rear of the Pemberley Estate. Here it was midsummer, and the heat added to the mood that now enshrouded Darcy as she took a tentative step towards it.

  Although she was a lady and shouldn’t be inclined to so-called animal urges, it was difficult to curb the anticipation that soared through her chest at that moment. It seemed the faster she breathed, the more her tight whalebone stays drove into her chest, constricting her fluttering heart. But none of her efforts to still herself would take hold. She could barely contain her anticipation.

  Would he be here? she wondered

  She knew she was breaking all the rules just then – that she was facing damage to her reputation if anyone saw her alone with him. But still, she couldn’t seem to care about her reputation. Not in light of the ecstasy she felt when she was in his presence, the heady sense of wonder. This shocked her, considering they hadn’t got off to the best of starts. And that was saying the absolute least.

  She adjusted her parasol and quickened her pace as the lake came into full view before her. Suddenly, hearing the clattering of hooves behind her, she turned – and the breath caught in her throat.

  There he was. His gaze met hers as he pulled his great steed to a stop and swiftly dismounted. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul and she placed a quivering hand against the bosom of her empire-waist gown.

  A tentative smile flitted across her face even while his expression remained unreadable in the setting sun. It was he who made the first move. Taking a slow step in her direction, he then seemed to make up his mind about something, and closed the space between them with his long, manly stride.

  Before she knew what was happening, he was in front of her, so close she could smell the intoxicating male aroma of the brandy he had been sipping after dinner and the pipe tobacco she knew he kept in his coat pocket.

  ‘You’re here,’ he said simply.

  ‘I am,’ she replied, feeling a blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks. His gaze found her lips and at once she understood what would happen next. As if on cue, his eyes turned a smoky shade of grey and determination crossed his face. He moved his head ever so subtly towards hers and her heart threatened to explode from her chest. He was going to kiss her! Mr Darcy was going to kiss her!

  ‘Miss Archer . . .’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yes?’ she replied breathlessly as she met his eyes.

  Buzz . . . Buzz . . . Buzz . . . Buzz.

  Confused, and unwilling to miss what he was about to say next, she shook her head, as if trying to shoo away an annoying insect. She looked around out of frustration, trying to figure out just who was interrupting what had to be the most romantic moment of her life

  Buzz . . . Buzz . . . Buzz . . . Buzz.

  Darcy sat up in bed and pushed her wayward curls out of her face, trying to work out where she was. The ringing phone was lying next to her on her pillow, where she must have left it after texting Katherine the night before to confirm that she was safely home.

  She’d spent the rest of the evening reading in bed, and realised that she must have dozed off before setting her alarm. And in her slumber had enjoyed a recurring dream that was just about to reach a most satisfactory conclusion . . . only to be interrupted.

  Looking blearily at the phone display, Darcy discovered that she had multiple missed calls and – frighteningly – that it was almost 10 a.m.! She was more than an hour late for work, and poor Joshua had been phoning steadily for the last hour and was trying to call her right then.

  Feeling panic rise in her chest, she fumbled with the keypad to answer the call. Fully awake now, she hit the accept button.

  ‘Oh my goodness, Joshua, I’m so sorry. I know I was supposed to be in with you first thing, but my alarm didn’t go off and my phone was on vibrate and I am a complete putz and I’m so sorry. I’m on my way right now.’

  ‘Darcy, thank God.’ Joshua sounded concerned. ‘Are you OK? I’ve been phoning for the past hour. I thought Ashley was supposed to be in, but then she told me she’d changed shifts with you and I was just about ready to start calling round the Emergency Rooms. Where are you? What are you doing?’ Clearly, Joshua had been too agitated to register any of Darcy’s excuses.

  She threw back the covers, hoping she could calm down her workmate, who had a penchant for dramatics akin to the stage mothers on the TV show Toddlers & Tiaras. Darcy knew that, right now, he was probably wringing his hands and on the verge of tears. Small wonder his earlier career as a trainee paramedic hadn’t worked out.

  Growing up in a family of surgeons, it seemed inevitable that Joshua would follow in his older siblings’ footsteps and take up a career in medicine, but ultimately he proved too much of a delicate soul to handle the inevitable daily chaos of such a profession. Much to his relief, Joshua’s parents had grudgingly accepted his decision to cut short his training and pursue instead his passion for literature. Which was how he’d ended up working in Chaucer’s, in a job which (most of the time) was considerably less tumultuous than the ER, while taking a Masters in Drama – something that suited him all too well.

  Strange though, how her and her colleague’s career paths had taken such similar routes, suggesting that you could (and should) never fight your own destiny.

  ‘Joshua, I’m fine, you can call off the search-party. I forgot to set my alarm last night, that’s all. And I’m sorry I scared you.’ Darcy hurried across the room towards the tiny adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower while trying to pull her pyjama top over her head with one arm. ‘I’m just jumping in the shower now. I’ll be with you in no time.’

  ‘For all I knew you could have been hit by a car on your way to work and were laid up at Mount Sinai, unconscious, on life support. I mean, don’t you understand how much you scare me – especially on that bike?’

  Darcy couldn’t help but giggle. ‘And don’t you understand how much you sound like a worry-wart mother?’

  Joshua’s voice was gentle. ‘Someone has to look out for you, you know,’ he said, and Darcy was touched by his concern.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll be there as fast as I can, OK?’

  ‘And take a damn cab!’ Joshua pleaded. ‘Don’t even think of trying to make your way all the way up here on the bike. It’s a mess out there this morning with all that snow. The city put salt down but the roads are still a horror show, and everywhere people are losing their damn minds. Honestly, it’s like something out of The Dead Zone.’

  ‘Joshua, I’ll be fine. My bike has seen worse, believe me. See you soon.’

  ‘Well, don’t pedal too hard!’ he said in parting.

  Having showered and dressed, Darcy clattered downstairs. On the way, she met one of her neighbours, Mrs Henley, a cantankerous type who lived in the apartment across the hallway. Darcy smiled as she passed the older woman, who was on the way up. ‘Morning, looks like it’s going to be a cold one today!’ she called out by way of greeting.

  ‘It’s the middle of December – what else would it be?’ th
e woman grumbled, her face typically pinched as she continued upward to her own apartment.

  Darcy knew it was her own fault for bothering. In the three years she’d lived in this building, Mrs Henley had barely acknowledged her salutations, or any attempt at neighbourly friendship. She understood that many people including herself embraced solitude and were perfectly happy in their own company, but still the rejection stung. Despite being a city of millions, New York could be a lonely place at times.

  Throwing open the front door of her building, she was immediately assaulted by the change in temperature. Joshua had been right about the weather, she thought. Her hair, still damp from the shower, would be in danger of freezing under her helmet in these icy conditions. Well, she didn’t have time to go back in and blow-dry it, and if she ended up catching pneumonia, it would have been for the greater good of Chaucer’s bookstore. Darcy unlocked her bike from the decorative rail sectioning off the front of Luigi’s restaurant to the entrance of her building, and mentally thanked her landlord for having the foresight to have salted the steps the night before.

  As she positioned her bike on the path, she began to swing a leg over when, caught unawares by the icy terrain, she slipped and landed squarely on her backside on the hard cold ground.

  ‘Damn!’ Darcy cursed as the bike landed clumsily on top of her. Pulling herself to her feet, she steadied the bike while holding on to the rail, deciding that she’d have to be more careful and not go out and prove them all right – those who seemed to believe that she was putting herself in serious danger on this thing.