Page 40 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
Her mother frowned. “It used to be open every weekend.”
“There’s, uh, some talk that it might soon be open more regularly,” she said.
“I should think they’d want things open as much as possible. Surely they’d know there are heaps of movie fans who would love to visit.”
She nodded but couldn’t say anything more. Best to change the subject. “How is Dad? How are the girls?”
“Oh, they’re all well,” Mum said. “EJ is talking about moving into Great-Aunt Marion’s apartment in Sydney, now that Marion is in a nursing home. Apparently people love EJ’s new app, and she’s in line for a pay rise.”
Her sister the tech head, who already earned twice Liv’s weekly wage as a casual teacher. Of course, now that Liv wasn’t earning anything, that made their financial disparity even greater. Not that life was all about money, but still …
As her mother kept sharing about the accomplishments of her other sisters, Liv wondered what her sisters would say if they knew where she was working. Her mother would probably be thrilled and regard it as something befitting her legacy as Elizabeth Bennett. She’d also be sure that Liv would find her own personal Mr. Darcy, conveniently ignoring the fact that the only candidate in a Mr. Darcy-like age bracket was a surly gardener type who didn’t seem to like Liv much at all. Which she supposed fit the vibe of things. Mr. Darcy had first appeared rude and proud, “a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing,” while Elizabeth had been mortified to overhear his description that she was “not handsome enough to tempt me.” Was it any wonder these two opposites had butted heads until attraction set in?
And while Liam seemed to have thawed marginally towards her—he must’ve to have agreed to this scheme—she still couldn’t ever see him aseverbeing anything like the best friend she wanted in a someday husband. He wasn’t proud, but he was aloof, while she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve—and her face. So it was good that the book and film were fictional and not setting a pattern for how one must live one’s life. No matter what her mother might think.
“Well, I should go,” Mum said now. “I’m glad, Mother, that you are doing so much better than I expected. Perhaps we’ll have Liv back before too much longer.”
“Back?” Liv repeated.
“Back here. If your grandmother doesn’t need you, then I suppose you’ll be wanting to find work here again.”
Protest reared inside.
“Oh no, it’s far too soon to be talking like that, Elizabeth,” Gran said. “No, I’m going to need her here for a few more months at least.”
“Months?” Mum said.
“Months,” Gran said firmly.
“But Liv, what about your earnings?”
“She’s living with me, so her expenses are minimal, aren’t they, dear?” Gran turned to Liv.
“Gran’s being very generous.”
“But you cannot take advantage of her,” Mum protested.
“She’s not taking advantage of me,” Gran said. “If anything, she may end up feeling taken advantage of, but we’ll try to do all we can to ensure it doesn’t come to that.”
“It’s all good, Mum.” Liv smiled, and Gran’s mention that they had church beginning shortly soon put an end to the conversation. Which was just as well, as she felt like she was skirting a little too close to untruths.
“I want to wait a little longer before we tell your mother,” Gran said. “We both know how prone she is to excitability.”
Yes.
“Now, get yourself ready for church. I imagine you’ll have a big day ahead of you.”
She thought so too. The service, where Tobias would invite people to join the working bee, would be followed by a quick lunch and council of war with the lead parties. Then Liv hoped to return to the Hall and continue her scouting of the premises. The more she knew about the place, the better. Not that she’d ask her grandmother to come. Despite all her protestations to the contrary, Gran was old, and while her recent surgery meant she should be active and move regularly, Liv didn’t think traipsing all over the gardens as she planned to do would be wise.
So yes, a big day beckoned. But first she needed to remember the best way to begin her week. With her focus on God.
Liv parked her grandmother’s car where George had indicated and hurried across the gravel path. George had said nobody would mind if she visited the Hall on a Sunday afternoon, but she still felt a little like a trespasser.
Tobias’ call at church had seen a wealth of people volunteer, not all of them locals, but a few holidaymakers as well, no doubt wanting to be involved for curiosity’s sake. In their postservice gathering in the snug at the Duck Inn, Gran, Tobias, Marge, George, and a reluctant Liam had agreed that the nosy could be put to use in weeding outside. The dusting of the house would be left to the stewards Gran had worked with previously, people who respected and knew the value of the Hall’s contents. Their meeting had broken up a little while ago, Liam not returning after a phone call, and Marge needing to return to work. Liv had asked George if she could visit the parterre gardens, which she’d missed seeing yesterday and wanted to enjoy before the place was filled with busyness and noise tomorrow.
“Of course you can,” George had assured her.
“Liam won’t mind?”
