Page 40 of Without Pride and Prejudice

“Your Grace, please wait. I can make it right,” Lady Catherine called after me, but I ignored her.

I wasn’t sure what she could do—nor did I care. All I wanted was for Monroe to be well and open her gorgeous eyes again.

I watched as they placed Monroe on a stretcher with her neck in a brace and her face covered with an oxygen mask. She looked absolutely helpless. “I thought she was breathing on her own,” I said, gutted, feeling as if I needed an oxygen mask of my own. All the air in my lungs had disappeared.

“She is, Your Grace,” the female paramedic answered. “The oxygen is just a precaution until we can get her to hospital, have her evaluated by a physician, and run some tests.”

“I want her taken to the private hospital in town.” I would call in a set of specialists from around the world to see her if I had to. Money would be no object.

The male paramedic nodded.

“I’m coming with you,” I stated, not allowing any room for argument. Sometimes it was good to be a duke.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Hold up,” Tony yelled, jogging over to me.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

Tony stared, ashen faced, at Monroe as they hoisted the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

“Do you really care?”

“Yes,” he murmured, as if he hated to admit it.

I didn’t bother with a response before stepping up into the ambulance and squeezing myself between the medical supplies and Monroe. “My love.” I took her cold, delicate hand and held it between my own. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to say, and for the first time in many years, tears rolled down my cheeks as I prepared for the worst.

“Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

MONROE

I LAY THERE ON THE settee, feeling stunned and mostly ignored. I knew with all my heart that despite what had transpired between Fitz and me in the last twenty-four hours, he would never have left me. This understanding sent wild theories running rampant through my mind. I had four hypothetical explanations: I was in a dream, or maybe a nightmare. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t wake up, even after telling myself several times to awake, so I didn’t take that as a good sign. Next on my list was being trapped in some weird space-time continuum. Highly unlikely, considering I didn’t watch or read much science fiction and I’d never really understood any of Einstein’s theories. I didn’t even really know whatspace-time continuummeant. That led me to my third conjecture that perhaps Pride and Prejudice Park really wasFantasy Islandand Mr. Roarke had granted me my wish to be an Elizabeth, as in the actual Elizabeth Bennet. Except I didn’t remember hopping on a plane and flying to a tropical island, or meeting Mr. Roarke. However, Great Britain is technically an island, so maybe Lady Catherine was filling in for Mr. Roarke. I was really hoping for this option, minus the part where I learn uncomfortable lessons about myself. But it was better than my last and least favoriteoption, that my toxic trait had finally done me in—as in, I hadn’t survived the fall. If that were the case, was I in heaven or hell?

Could one actually considerPride and Prejudiceto be heaven? I mean, hello, Mr. Darcy. Yes, please. I’d take him for eternity, especially if he looked like my Fitz. Maybe that’s how God worked. He gave you your greatest desire. But then that would mean ... I really was dead. I touched my arms, body, and head. They all hurt. It didn’t hurt after you died, right? So maybe this wasFantasy Islandor a dream I could never wake up from?

One thing I knew for sure—I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. If only I had some ruby slippers. Just for kicks and giggles, I closed my eyes and quietly said “There’s no place like home” three times. No luck. I remained in the parlor watching Mrs. Bennet fangirl all over Mr. Bingley. She prattled on about how happy she was that he’d let Netherfield as she gripped Jane, making sure she stayed front and center. Jane kept looking pensively at me as if she wanted to come to my aid, but Mr. Bingley certainly seemed taken with her as he smiled and laughed easily. The guy definitely wasn’t Zane, who hadn’t exactly embraced his character since arriving at Pride and Prejudice Park. Lydia and Kitty giggled in the corner, and Mary played a morose tune on the pianoforte, missing notes here and there. They all acted as if nothing had happened. I started to question if anyone in this peculiar place genuinely cared that I’d been injured.

To answer my question, Mr. Bennet rushed in and came straight to me, kneeling in front of the settee. He still bore a resemblance to Idris Elba, but he had a paternal air reminiscent of Davis Gray, which thankfully didn’t draw me to him in a Freudian sort of way. That would have been all sorts of disgusting and would have me needing therapy if I ever found my way out of this. Assuming I could escape this place. Whatever this place was. But on the upside, heaven had to have a few therapists.Please, don’t let me be dead.

“My dearest Lizzy.” Mr. Bennet placed his chilly hand on my warm brow. “I heard you took a nasty fall from Ladybird. I had Hill call for Mr. Jones.”

Ladybird was the horse’s name in Pride and Prejudice Park, which made this all the more confusing.

“I told her not to ride. She is no horsewoman, unlike our dear Jane,” Mrs. Bennet made sure to point out to Bingley, which only reaffirmed to me that this wasn’t the cosplay cast. Laila Gray would never have behaved in such a manner, even if we were acting out a scene. And this hadn’t been included among the scripted scenes. It honestly wasn’t even in the book, although I suppose it could have been—we don’t know much about what happened in the fortnight between the announcement of Bingley letting out Netherfield and the Meryton assembly. I’m sure Elizabeth didn’t fall off a horse, as Mrs. Bennet pointed out that she was no horsewoman. But in real life—my life—I was a better horsewoman than Jane, I mean Macey. Oh, poor Macey—I hoped she hadn’t fallen off her horse too. It all felt so confusing.

“I should be off to find Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said in a rush.

I cringed, thinking about my interaction with Mr. Darcy—he probably thought I was a mental case. I needed to figure out a way to fix that when I saw him again. Hopefully he would chalk it up to a head injury, but he had to be wondering why I’d bring up the wordsexyin conversation, or where I’d even learned such a phrase. I know some scholars, including Fitz, argued that the Regency era saw some cultural shifts regarding sex, but it was still not proper for the daughter of a gentleman to speak or act in such a manner. Case in point—look at how Mr. Darcy had behaved when I touched his hand with my bare skin. Admittedly, this was a bit of a bummer. Although it obviously wasn’t included in Austen’s story, I had really hoped that Darcy and Elizabeth had some passionate make-out sessions—off page—before they wed, sans gloves.

“You must promise to return.” Mrs. Bennet sounded positively desperate.

“I shall.” Mr. Bingley smiled at Jane.

Jane blushed and bowed her head.

“Miss Bennet, may I be so bold as to ask you for the first two dances tonight?” Mr. Bingley mumbled.

“Yes!” Mrs. Bennet answered for Jane.

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