Page 29 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
His grunt was hardly the sound of enthusiastic affirmation, but she let it slide, as he opened the door to the next room. She entered a room painted in a pretty sage green, three windows letting in lots of light. Floral armchairs were positioned around the fire, family photographs on the mantelpiece just like one might find in a living room at home. Liam moved to the mantelpiece and placed one picture frame face down. Strange.
“Well?” George said.
“This room is lovely. It feels so homey, like the family just stepped outside for a moment. And what a contrast to before with all the light in here.”
“This is the sitting room. Once upon a time it used to be the library, but was often used as a lady’s parlour.”
“Did you used to be a tour guide?” Liv asked her.
“I’ve, er, done that, yes. Anyway, as you can see, it’s positioned to the south, so it gets a lot of light all day, even now in the afternoon.” George sneaked a look at her brother. “I’ve often thought we need more light here.”
“We?” Liv asked.
“This place.” George pointed to the window. “Come see.”
She joined her at the window, her breath catching again. For there, in the centre of a period-appropriate parterre garden, sat the fountain of her dreams. “Ohhh.”
George laughed. “You sound like a true aficionado.”
“I am. Who doesn’t love Mr. Darcy?”
The man on the other side of George huffed.
Okay, well, there was one.
“I didn’t get to see that section before.” She sneaked a peek at Liam. He had his hands in his jacket pockets, his forehead creased in a scowl. Ah, well. She returned her attention to outside, leaning against the old glass, the age of which was proved by how the bevelled edges distorted the scene below. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a shame the fountain isn’t working, but we hope to get it fixed one day.”
Again that use of “we.” Clearly George took her brother’s responsibilities as gardener seriously.
“The fountain is such an asset to the house,” Liv declared. “Even if the house isn’t open, to have it working again would be sure to draw in visitors.” She could see it now. A bench where lovers could sit and take a selfie, or have their photo taken by an obliging passerby. Couples living their fantasy of Mr. Darcy kissing Elizabeth …
“Like everything, fixing the fountain takes money,” Liam muttered.
Way to kill the mood. She glanced at him. His gaze was firmly fixed outside. “Well, perhaps the owner will see the benefit of doing so, if they know it will bring in more money. Who is the owner, anyway?”
Brother and sister glanced at each other. Then George coughed. “We better get to the next room. The light is starting to fade.”
It still looked pretty bright outside, but she wasn’t going to argue. Getting a private tour of the house was an undreamed delight. She waved at Gran as they passed through the Entrance Hall again, then onto a room on the other side, a more formal drawing room. North facing, it was much darker, something enhanced by the green patterned flock wallpaper. Yet even with the dustcovers shrouding what she imagined was a small settee in the corner, a sense of warmth and elegance remained. That latter was definitely enhanced by the large chandelier, which looked a little dusty, which was placed symmetrically opposite the fireplace.
“It’s beautiful.” She pointed to the corner. “Is that another lounge chair?”
George hurried to it, hissing a “You missed one” to her brother. She pulled it off. “Ta-da.”
“Very pretty.” Liv touched the carved legs. “Sheraton?”
“I believe so,” George said. “You know your furniture.”
She shrugged. “I love history.”
“See?” George murmured to Liam.
This room led into the formal dining room, another long room which would be dark, except it had gold silk wallpaper and a series of deep windows opposite a white Rococo chimneypiece. A large mahogany table was surrounded by eighteen carved dining chairs. She looked above, where on the ceiling was another large painting, its style mirroring that on the stairs.
“Is that Thornhill’s work again?”
“She’s good,” George crowed.
