Page 173 of Love ad Lib
‘Praise be to god!’ Leo cried, leading a round of applause. ‘I think this calls for a celebration! Who here is up for learning a quadrille in the ballroom?’
Everyone cheered.
‘Libby?’ Leo extended his arms to help her and Summer off the floor. ‘Would you like to lead the way?’
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Libby wasn’t sure what to expect as she led the way to the ballroom. This tour was like waking up one summer morning to discover Christmas had come early. Each new room contained an unexpected present and she was unwrapping each one by opening the door.
‘Darling Libby!’ Arthur cried. He stood in the centre of the ballroom next to Vivienne. Both were dressed in Regency fashion, but it seemed they’d become competitive about the size of their wigs. Vivienne’s contained artificial birds and flowers, and Arthur’s was decorated with more baubles than a Christmas tree. Vivienne’s wig was taller than her husband’s, however he’d gained the overall height advantage by wearing a pair of high heeled satin shoes.
The audience filled the space, gawping and pulling out their phones to take pictures.
Libby cleared her throat. ‘May I present… Er—’
‘Mr and Mrs Bennet,’ Vivienne supplied, curtseying to the group. ‘We are busy preparing for the upcoming ball at Netherfield where I hope my daughter will catch the eye of a certain gentleman. My husband and I were wondering if you would care to join us in learning a quadrille?’ She turned to Libby. ‘My darling, could you lead us in the correct steps?’
‘It would be my pleasure, Mama,’ she replied, as Arthur went to a sideboard where a stereo system was hidden behind a row of potted plants. She addressed the group. ‘Now, let us begin.’
Twenty minutes later,Libby had taught everyone a quadrille, a cotillion and a jig, and most people had tried on Arthur’s wig. Even though she was having the time of her life, she was still trying to process what Henry's family was up to and hoping that he would be in the next room.
But as they finished in the ballroom and moved to the kitchen, her hope died.
‘Good afternoon, all,’ Dervla said in her lilting Irish accent as Libby led everyone in. ‘My name is Lady Catherine de Bourgh and my esteemed housekeeper here, Perry the Magnificent, is going to show you how to make Regency love biscuits.’
Love biscuits?
‘That’s right,’ Perry continued. ‘Made with love and a sprinkle of Foxbrooke magic to help young sweethearts find their way back to each other.’ She winked at Libby. ‘Now then, if you’d like to join in, please wash your hands and avail yourself of one of my pinnies.’
When the doughhad been mixed and rolled, Dervla unwrapped a wooden stamper.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, this has been made especially for today.’
Libby tried to see the design but couldn’t make it out.
‘Carved by Foxbrooke’s resident carpenter, Finn Oakley, this has been created to celebrate reconciliation and love,’ Dervla caught Libby’s eye. ‘Why don’t you show everyone how to use it?
Libby stepped forward, took the stamper from Dervla and pressed it into the dough. When she removed it, she saw what Finn had carved. It was a heart with her and Henry’s names inside.
‘Perfect!’ said Dervla. ‘Carry on, we’ve plenty more to make and everyone needs to get the message.’
After the biscuits had been put into the oven, Perry produced a batch she’d made earlier and handed the first one to Libby.
‘What do you think?’ she asked.
Libby took a bite. ‘Sweet and delicious.’
‘And that’s the taste of love,’ Dervla cried. ‘Now, who else wants to see how perfectly Libby goes with Henry?’
She couldn’t help but smile. Henry’s family may have been different from the norm, but their hearts were huge. They were doing everything they possibly could to bring about a reconciliation between her and Henry, and to also show how much they cared for her.
After copious amountsof love biscuits and strong tea, Dervla clapped her hands.
‘Now, if you follow the lovely Libby into the gardens, we have a game of Croquet set up for you.’
Was this the moment that Henry might arrive? Or was he still abroad? When Perry was instructing people in biscuit making, she’d dashed into the larder to ring him, but the call had gone straight to voicemail.
‘Indeed,’ she said loudly. ‘Please follow me.’
