5. Lizzy
Lizzy
Darcy held up his square of toilet paper and scanned us under an arched eyebrow.
“I only have one square, so… My name is Darcy Wainwright. I live in London and in Derbyshire, where my family is from. I’m a property developer with my brother.
That’s three things. I have a red setter mix called Max.
” His dog padded closer and nudged Darcy’s hand, and Darcy actually smiled…
slightly. “That’s one more thing. I apologize for taking up too much of your time. ”
You utter prat, you think you’re too good to tell us about yourself. I looked around at everyone else, whose faces reflected what I was thinking.
“You need to say how you feel about love,” Monty said. “After all, old chap, that’s what the weekend is about.”
I smiled at Monty. He wasn’t as oblivious as he first seemed.
Scrunching up the paper, Darcy thrust his hands into his pockets. “I don’t believe in romantic love, this concept of soul mates.” He shook his head, agitated. “I think it’s something made up by Hallmark and romance wr—”
“Oh God,” his brother Wills said and dragged his hands over his face.
“So, are you saying you’ll never get married?” Nala asked. She’d earlier told me she’d been dumped by her longtime boyfriend. “You don’t want children?”
He shrugged. “I’ll probably get married and have children. Or not. I won’t have unrealistic expectations of how I’ll feel about my partner. Maybe I’ll have more dogs. To be honest, I’d be perfectly happy with that.”
No one would have been surprised if I’d felt the same way as this Darcy guy.
Jake and I had been the latest and most uninspiring in a long line of okay but average relationships.
He’d never felt ardently about me one way or the other, and, honestly, I was surprised either of us let it drag on as long as we had.
I hadn’t been depressed about our splitting up, but I now wondered if there was a man out there who’d want me as much as my heroes wanted my female main characters.
A woman who didn’t aspire to look like a model or be as vivacious as an It Girl.
I didn’t even mind that maybe I didn’t have main character energy, that next to my sister, who was literally a model, and my stunning cousin, who was literally an It Girl, I was mostly third choice.
But surely there was someone who could look past them…to me?
I was determined never to feel the way Darcy did, no matter how many times I was dumped.
Love was real, but right now, it was for other people.
Still, my romantic optimism didn’t stop the doubts from creeping in that I could no longer trust myself to identify the right guy for me.
And sometimes I felt a little fraudulent calling myself a romance writer.
I moved forward. “Dogs are brilliant. I think we’re all agreed on that, but you don’t believe in falling in love?”
Darcy shook his head.
The mood of the party fell flat.
“Another glass of champers,” Trystan called, clearly reading the room and knowing the mood needed a quick lift. “Nala, why don’t you tell us your story?”
Nala took a gulp from her drink and stood up with her toilet paper in hand. She tossed her knotless braids over the shoulder of her merlot-colored jumpsuit, her gold hoops swaying.
“Hi, everyone. I’m the town mayor, as some of you know.
And I signed up because I wanted to support this new local venture and find the love of my life.
I’m sure many of my councillors will love to tease me about attending this weekend and, now, talking about what I’m searching for, but hiding my true self is not my style.
I’ve always been told I wear my heart on my sleeve like that’s a bad thing.
I like that I’m vulnerable, and I don’t want to change.
But it’s been a challenge to stay this way. ”
She took a deep breath. “I do believe in love, because I’m familiar with the emotion.
I’ve been hopelessly in love for five years.
Still am. And I thought he was too. Then two weeks ago, I asked him point-blank: I need to know we’re going to get married.
I’m thirty-five years old, and I want children. He said he wasn’t sure.”
Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes went glassy. My chest choked with a sob. I was thirty-four, and I wanted the same. I’d lost all that time on Jake, but I still hadn’t given up on wanting a partner and kids.
“I’m done wasting my time,” Nala went on. “I need to know my next relationship is going somewhere. Might sound blunt to some ears, but it’s where I am at.”
The crowd burst into spontaneous applause. Trystan strode toward her and asked if she wanted a hug, and she did. Clearly, he’d taken charge of facilitating, realizing Penny and Monty didn’t know how to embrace emotional revelations like this.
“Thank you for being so open, Nala,” Trystan said. “Thank you for sharing with us. I, for one, am glad to hear that, because it validates my own feelings about love and my future.”
I brushed a tear from under my eye, grateful to have him speak for me.
Colin Vicar leaped from his seat beside Nala, brandishing his trail of toilet paper like a white flag. He’d taken rather a lot, and I felt the room deflate at the prospect of his long speech. There was a flurry of motioning-over to Trystan for the champagne.
Colin cleared his throat and adjusted his studied tweed jacket, complete with tan elbow patches.
“I don’t want to toot my own trumpet, but I have placed myself in a truly perfect position to meet the right woman.
As a Latin professor, I am in high standing at my university, not only in the classics but also in other fields such as…
” He tapped his chin. “Disciplines adjacent to the classics. I do, as many of you know, have a grace-and-favor cottage on the estate of Lady Catherine de Bourg.”
He pursed his lips, awaiting our consideration of that. Everyone shuffled in their seats and looked embarrassed for him.
“I am also in possession of any amount of conversation to entertain a woman in the comfort of our home, including witticisms, anecdotes, and jests known to titillate the female mind. And I have knowledge of the, erm, sense and sensibilities of women. If you know what I mean, and I think you do.”
I recoiled, coughing up my last sip. Eeeewww.
Colin beamed at Nala, who now looked full-on horror-struck.
“I definitely do not want to know what you mean,” she said.
He looked around, realizing he’d made a terrible gaffe. “Oh sorry, I was referring to the delicate nature of women.”
“Nope, nope, nope.” Nala shook her head.
Trystan raised his hands. “Okay, people. Could we please keep our remarks to romantic love and our hopes and dreams for the future? Nothing inappropriate. Please.”
The snogging couple barely raised their sweet twentysomething faces and snickered. They then wrapped back into a clinch.
Trystan clapped. “Okay, feel free to have more drinks. Tomorrow, we will have a brunch-cooking competition, and the prize will be a unique, romantic afternoon, specially designed by the production company. Folks, this is not your usual wine tasting and hot-air ballooning, not that those aren’t awesome activities.
The film company have used their influence to gain entry to iconic places not previously open to the public.
I’ve seen the photos, and dreamy does not cover it! ”
Mum, who unfortunately was still here, despite the dancing being over, clapped and hurried over to Jane, standing next to William.
“Jane darling, you must win the prize and grab more time with…” She gave a horribly indiscreet bob of her head at William and then—as if Jane hadn’t got the mortifying message—an eyebrow waggling.
My face fired up with shame. What would my mother do next?
Mum sang, “I like me better with you,” dancing around the room with a lot of suggestive moves, and the Balfours, ever the joiners, followed her in what they obviously thought was some kind of new conga line. Yep, there it was.
Trystan gave me a swift, sympathetic look and cleared his throat. “Those who were not lucky enough to win the special afternoon will take part in a local farm tour. Then, early evening, the women will have a makeover, courtesy of our wonderful Poppy. Hair, makeup, new outfit, full glam.”
Mum and the Balfours carried on with their inappropriate conga line.
“Sunday morning is animal time,” Trystan called out more loudly, cleverly halting the Balfours, who doted on their creatures, in turn stopping Mum in her tracks.
“On the way in, you might have spied an obstacle course set up in one of the pastures and wondered if you were expected to leap over those fences.”
Everyone laughed nervously.
“No,” he went on, “this isn’t a Tough Mudder kind of weekend—you personally are off the hook. Sunday morning is the dog training, thanks to Knightley, our town vet and weekend participant, who volunteered his time to set up this course. He will kindly take us through our paces.”
Knightley, all beard and sun-burnished face in a chunky-knit brown sweater, gave an amused grin. Emma elbowed him and murmured she’d helped, setting off another round of squabbling about her not following his instructions, making everything take longer.
My ears had pricked up at the mention of the cook-off. I needed to win the brunch-cooking competition because I wanted the romantic prize. I was pretty sure the afternoon would yield some clever ideas for my books.