Dancing With Mr. Darcy: Stories Inspired by Jane Austen and Chawton House Library by Sarah Waters Read Free Book Online Page B

form of defence. He says that if you stare at a single point for long enough, everything else in your vision blacks out.
    We go for a walk in the rain, along a path that hugs the sea; our heads bent against the cold. The rocks are littered with plastic tubing and buoys washed up from the nearby fishery. As usual Aidan walks as if there’s somewhere else he’d rather be. ‘You have two modes,’ I call out. ‘The first is Aidan Jokey Mode, and the second, Aidan Words Mean Nothing.’ He smiles, unsure. He asks me about the film we watched. He says there were a lot of flashbacks for such a simple story. I agree. The motivations of the characters were way too obvious. Aidan leads me to a bench facing out to sea. He shows me two names carved into the wood. ‘Dan and Sophie; they came to stay. One evening they went out for a walk, sat on this bench. When they came back Sophie said Dan had asked her to marry him. She said yes.’ ‘How romantic.’ I say. Then we turn and walk away.
    We’re sitting on the sofa in the sunny room with a view right across the bay, and our conversation accidentally touches on love. I ask Aidan, ‘what are your pre-requisites?’ He crosses his arms. ‘I don’t have any. Things just happen.’ I want to remind him of the time he told me how a girl had broken his heart. I want to ask ‘How can a man with no desire have his heart broken?’
    When we pop in to see Aidan’s brother and his wife, it’s like the two of us dropping by. I watch Aidan while everyone is talking, and I am filled with that quiet, deep, heart-swelling sort of happiness. I stole the words right out of your mouth, but they fit so well, Jane, I couldn’t help it. Aidan says he may get married one day and have children. He says it like he might pop out to the shops for a pint of milk.
    Oh, Jane. What was it you said about the anxiety of expectation and the pain of disappointment? It’s Friday night already and we’re going to bed early (separately) to catch the small plane to North Ronaldsay first thing in the morning. It’s a trip Aidan’s organised for the weekend with a group of his friends – all women! He said it’s not like their sex is relevant. I beg to differ. I’d like to see his face if I asked him to stay with four gorgeous blokes and me as the lucky girl. This trip will be a Test of Character type experience. To bed: enough of dreaming.
    I knew it. The four women are beautiful. Not only that, they are French and German and Scottish, which means they speak with voices to melt any man. Their names are Odette and Silke, Ailean and Innes. While we’re waiting for the plane they sit quietly, hardly speaking. I want to hate them and I almost do, but I can’t because they are friendly which is worse, because I feel loathsome and want to crawl back under my stone. I can’t help watching how Aidan is: whether he laughs longest with Innes, his gaze is deeper for Silke or his hand lingers on Ailean’s arm. Between him and Odette, something hangs unspoken. When we arrive the others squeeze around the tiny kitchen table in the hostel. I don my waterproof trousers and march off into the drizzle.
    I am much calmed by my walk. I lean over a wall and watch the seals lounging about on the rocks. They lie with their backs against the cold, sharp edges, peering at me from upside down. They scratch and clap their feet, as if relaxing on chaise longues and deep-pile carpets. Mist floats down over the sea and I feel the peace that often comes with being alone.
    Jane, this is not the first time I’ve fallen down the well of my own vanity. I’ve seen meaning in the few hopeful words Aidan has given me, words that could just as easily have been offered in friendship. It’s like reaching the top of a mountain only to find that I’m the same person I was when I set out. It is the view that’s changed. It’s exhilarating; yet I feel like a small balloon not quite set free.
    At dusk the six of us slip across rocks in the