Page 171 of Love ad Lib
‘Croquet wasn’t invented in Jane Austen’s time.’
Estelle huffed. ‘Okay, Ms Pedantic, called it “Pall Mall, the Foxbrooke Edition”.’
She grinned. ‘Okay. The room order you’ve given me makes sense. How long have I got?’
Estelle glanced at her watch. ‘Forty minutes, and we’re going to need all of that time just to do up those bastard buttons.’
Henry’s bedroomwas empty and quiet, the covers drawn across the bed. It looked as if it had been put to sleep for a hundred years. Estelle chattered away about horses as she helped Libby dress, which enabled her to zone out and try and get into character. She’d decided to keep being Elizabeth Bennet, but unfortunately this time, Mr Darcy would not be making an appearance.
Estelle fixed the last clip into Libby’s hair. ‘You look absolutely perfect. I’m going to go and herd the cats into the entrance hall, so you just follow me down when you’re ready.’ She checked the time again, then dashed out of the door.
Libby stepped away from the bed and over to the window, her heart full of memories. Her gaze ran from the parkland on one side to the large area in front of the Manor where a coach was currently disgorging passengers.
True to her word, Estelle had removed the rest of her family from the house and the building seemed unnaturally quiet as she made her way down the corridor towards the main stairs.
Come on, Libby. You can do this!
She stepped into view.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she began loudly, before noticing some children amongst the party. ‘Girls and boys. My name is Elizabeth Bennet and I am delighted to welcome you all to Foxbrooke Manor.’
Libby smiled at the expressions on people’s faces. She may not have had Henry at her side, but what she was doing made her happy. She continued gliding down the stairs, her posture straight out of Gram-Gram’s school for deportment.
‘I appreciate you may not associate me with the Manor, however the Gardiners, relatives on my mother’s side of the family, have a close connection with the Duke and Duchess of Somerset, and I have been a regular visitor here since arriving in Bath.’
Estelle stood behind the group. She gave Libby two thumbs up, then disappeared out the front door.
‘The Duke and Duchess have tasked me with escorting you around their home this afternoon and giving you a taste of what life was like here across the ages, but in particular during the Georgian era.’ She swept her arm wide. ‘First, let us travel back in time to nine hundred and seventy-eight as the King of Wessex enjoys the delights of his summer palace here at Foxbrooke Manor.’
After explaining the early history of the building, Libby moved through the ground floor, stopping in the picture gallery and the dining room. In the distance, music was playing. Had Estelle put it on? She paused outside the library doors. The sound quality was incredible. She turned the handle and peeked inside, blinking at the sight before her.
Playing the piano, wearing a pink Regency dress and with her blue hair curled into ringlets, was Willow. Standing beside her was Connor, dressed as a Regency gentleman. He noticed Libby and waved, holding up a piece of sheet music and miming the song.
She turned to the crowds clustered behind her, her heart pitter-pattering.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys,’ she began. ‘Today, we have an extra special surprise for you.’
She flung open the library’s double doors.
‘May I present Miss Jane Fairfax and Mr Frank Churchill.’
There were gasps as people filed into the library. When everyone was in, Connor bowed.
‘It is my great honour to meet you all today at Foxbrooke Manor,’ he said. ‘I have been given a great task to accomplish this morning, namely, singing a song for Libby here on behalf of my brother who is presently detained abroad.’
All eyes turned to Libby, and her cheeks heated. Had Henry organised this?
Connor cleared his throat. ‘This is an old English folk song titled “My Sweetheart’s Like Venus”.’
Willow played the introduction.
‘My sweetheart’s like Venus, she’s lovely and fair. There’s no one like her from far or from near…’
Libby clutched the fabric of her dress as she listened. Had Henry chosen this song?
‘Her form has the beauty of tall summer trees. Her hair’s like the wheat that is stirred by the breeze. Her cheeks are like apples, her heart is so pure. If only she’d love me, I’d ask nothing more.’
Connor’s voice was a rich baritone that filled the air like the scent of mulled wine and spices. When he finished, the room broke out in rapturous applause. He gave a short bow, then took a pile of papers off the top of the piano and handed them out.
