Page 1 of Without Pride and Prejudice

Thirteen Years Ago

“There are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement.”

MONROE

“OKAY, YOU GOT THIS,” I whispered to myself, even though I felt more out of place than ever. I swore the necktie I had to wear as part of my school uniform was trying to strangle me. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be attending some fancy private school in the UK during what should have been my junior year in high school. The school doubled as both a day school and a boarding school, but thankfully I was only attending the day school.

This new school of mine was so fancy, I’d heard rumors that nobility and movie stars’ children attended. I didn’t care how famous any of the students were—I just wanted to be back home in Kansas, hanging out with my friends on the lawn before school, laughing and talking about our new class schedules and the boys we were crushing on.

I’d had high hopes that Finn Cavanaugh would ask me to homecoming this year. We’d flirted all summer while working together at one of the local ice cream shops. But then my dad got this opportunity to work in the UK. His company offered to pay for what they touted as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me.I knew Dad really wanted to do this and that it would look great on his résumé. He’s the best dad in the world, so I wanted to support him. But now, looking around at the school’s courtyard full of a hundred total strangers, I was feeling less supportive.

Just play it cool. Find someone who’s lonely, just like you,I silently told myself. I was testing out a theory: Maybe in the UK I could actually help people without it going all wrong. Back home, I’d been a tiny bit of a disaster. Okay, maybe more than a tiny bit. For some reason, I was jinxed in the assistance department. Dad said it was part of my charm. I guess I was about to see how charming I could be in a foreign country.

I slowly walked across the cobblestone path between the buildings with ivy climbing up the brick walls, looking like something out of a Jane Austen movie. It calmed my heart a little. I loved all things Jane Austen, especially Mr. Darcy. My goal in life was to be Elizabeth Bennet. I wasn’t quite there yet, meaning I had about a million miles to go.

I bit my lip as I walked, feeling like everyone was staring at me, as if they knew I didn’t really belong here. But somewhere, amid all the discomfort, an unseen magical force magnetically drew me to the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen, making me forget where I was and how out of place I felt. Strangely, his presence made me feel a weird comfort I’d never known before.

The godlike creature sat on a wrought iron bench near a large oak tree, immersed in a leather-bound book. I was grateful the book didn’t cover his gorgeous, chiseled face. I hadn’t realized boys his age could have such flawless features—they certainly didn’t where I came from. Maybe he was a movie star himself, with his gray broody eyes and light scruff. The eyes and scruff went perfectly with his immaculately styled hair that was longer on top with neat, trim sides. The preppy tie and jacket didn’t hurt either—I guess school uniforms weren’t all that bad, even if I was missing my comfortable jeans.

I was so drawn to him, I knew I had to talk to him. But that was a crazy thought, given he appeared to have the attention of almost every girl in the courtyard—no shock there. The shocking thing was that he didn’t seem to care. The boys I knew back home would have jumped at all the attention. Whoever this demigod was, he seemed unbothered or even bored by their regard. That probably should have stopped me from approaching him, but his pull was too strong, even when I saw a beautiful girl with long ebony hair sit on the bench and slide right up next to him like a suction cup.

He leaned away from her, obviously not thrilled with the attention. It made me second-guess myself even more. But the call refused to be ignored. Too bad that in my haste, I let my heavy book bag slip and then managed to trip over it. It might have been okay, except gravity took over and I couldn’t steady myself. Instead, I face-planted on the grass, missing the cobblestone by inches. It was my worst nightmare come to life. Knowing my luck, my skirt was probably up around my waist, showing off my panties. With that lovely thought, I did the only thing I could under the circumstances: I jumped up as fast as I could, threw my arms in the air, and said, “Ta-da!” like an idiot.

Unfortunately, that got everyone’s attention.

Way to start your first day,I thought to myself as everyone gaped at me, some laughing and pointing.

Feeling like I wanted to crawl under a rock, I reached down to pick up my bag, but to my surprise, someone was already handing it to me. And not just any someone—it was the beautiful boy.

“Are you all right?” he asked in his charming British accent.

A nervous giggle escaped. “Uh ... yeah ... I was just warming up,” I teased.

The corners of the beautiful boy’s lips ticked up as if he wanted to smile but refused to.

Everyone in the courtyard still stared at me, but instead of laughing, I heard them whispering things like, “Does Lord Alastair know her?” and “I’ve never seen him help anyone before.”

Was he really a lord? Lord of what? Lord of the Flies? Lord of the Rings? I took my book bag from him. “Thank you. Um, I’m Monroe, by the way.”PS: I think I’m going to fall in love with you.Thankfully, those words didn’t escape, but it was true. I couldn’t stop staring at him; it felt as if I knew him already.

“You’re welcome. I’m Alastair Fitzroy.”

He didn’t provide a title with his name. “That’s a fancy name, Alastair Fitzroy. I think I’m just going to call you Fitz.”

His gray eyes widened while a deafening hush went through the courtyard. I’d obviously committed a big faux pas, although that was to be expected. My middle name could besocial blunder. I waited for him to correct me or to humiliate me.

But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head and studied me, making my heart pound harder than Coldplay’s drummer beating out “Viva la Vida.” What was he trying to decide about me? I’d never had someone stare at me so intensely. He finally said, “If we are going to be friends, you can’t call me Fitz.”

I smiled and swung my book bag around my shoulder, feeling as if my day—and life—had somehow just gotten better. I nudged him with my hip as I walked past him. “You’ll get used to it,Fitz.”

Eleven and a Half Years Ago

FITZ

THE SMELL OF HOMEMADE CHEESEBURGERS wafted through the modest flat while I sat on an old rickety piano bench with Monroe. I loved hearing her angelic voice as she played and sang my favorite Billy Joel song, “And So It Goes.” I wished, like the song says, that I could be with her—if it were my choiceto make. But my father’s title, which would one day be mine, didn’t allow me that luxury. And I would never subject Monroe to the kind of scrutiny my family encountered. Or worse, the scrutiny my parents had already given Monroe after her first, and so far only, visit to our estate. My parents didn’t care for her brand of quirkiness. Normally I didn’t either, but there was just something about her that I was drawn to. Her crazy was growing on me, even though we were complete opposites. She had this way of making me feel like a real person and not just the son of a duke.

Monroe stopped playing abruptly and turned her gorgeous head toward me. I’d tried to stifle these thoughts about her, knowing we could never be more than friends. But there is no denying her beauty. She has the silkiest dark hair, and her brown eyes shine all the time, no matter her mood, which was mostly good. I’ve never known anyone as happy as Monroe. The odd thing was, she and her father were living in what I would consider a cramped flat with rented furniture—even Monroe’s out-of-tune piano was a rental. And from what Monroe said, their small, comfortable home in the States was outdated, yet she loved it all the same. My family, meanwhile, has had every luxury in life and we are mostly a miserable lot.

“You’ll come visit me in America after the school year is over, right?” she begged to know.

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