Page 58 of Without Pride and Prejudice

Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, did not look delighted. I think what he wished for was an escape route.

I would be happy to provide one. You know me; I love to fix things. “I need to walk to town for some ribbon for my hat.” Never thought I would say those words. Did I even have any pocket money?

“May I accompany you, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy asked stiffly.

“It would be a pleasure.”

“We want to go to town too,” Kitty proclaimed.

Then Lydia, being Lydia, rounded on Mr. Bingley. “You promised us a ball last night. I think you should have it next week and invite all the officers.”

I gave Mr. Darcy an apologetic smile. Being an only child, I’d never experienced younger siblings’ antics, as my mother died when I was five and my father never remarried. I’d always felt like I’d missed out on something, but Dad loved my mother so much that he would never consider remarrying. I needed to find a man like that. Was Mr. Darcy such a man?

“What a splendid idea,” Mrs. Bennet heartily agreed with Lydia.

Mr. Bingley was obviously a people pleaser, or maybe he thought he was being a Jane pleaser. Wait—that sounded a little kinky, and let me just say there was nothing of that sort going on in this story. I was still waiting for Mr. Darcy to let me touch him without my gloves. Anyway, Mr. Bingley agreed to having the ball the next week, which was way too soon. I didn’t even know how it was possible to plan a ball so quickly. It was apparent I’d totally wrecked the timeline of the story. It was almost going asfast as the timeline at Pride and Prejudice Park, but I had gone way off script here.

I had this sinking feeling that I was running out of time to prove I was a good Elizabeth.

I did my best to get us out of the house as quickly as I could, with my reticule in hand. Thankfully, there was money in the satin bag embroidered with my initials—I mean Elizabeth’s initials. In all honesty, I missed people calling me Monroe. Where was Monroe? I mean me. The thought hurt my head and heart.

Purposely, I let my sisters and Mr. Bingley walk ahead of us in the cool morning. I needed to speak privately with Mr. Darcy. To the sounds of the rocks crunching beneath our feet and the tittering of Lydia and Kitty, I did something daring. I felt like desperate times called for desperate measures. Without being invited, I strung my arm through Mr. Darcy’s, hoping to feel connected to him and praying he would, in turn, feel the same connection. He had no idea what was on the line. Believe me, I knew it was too early to define the relationship, but something needed to be defined. It was imperative I at least know I had a shot to fulfill my role as Elizabeth. And there was no Elizabeth in the story without him.

Shocked, Mr. Darcy immediately stiffened.

Who knew something so innocent would make me feel like such a vixen? “Mr. Darcy, I apologize for being so forward.” And such an idiot.Read the room, Monroe.I loosened my hold on him, feeling like an idiot. But something wonderful happened. He reached over and placed his hand over mine on his bicep, holding it steady. The warmth of his hand seeped through my glove, sending a zing through me.

“Miss Bennet, you . . .”

“Yes?” I said, anticipating something beautiful and reaffirming coming out of his mouth.

“You have bewitched me.” He didn’t sound like it was necessarily a good thing. He should have said I bewitched him, body and soul, which was much more romantic.

I made it more awkward when I said, “I am trying my best.” What was wrong with me? I laughed when he didn’t respond other than to appear alarmed, judging by how deeply he cleared his throat.

“What I mean to say is, I do not like the silly games that men and women sometimes play. I feel it best to be honest.” You know, unless you are in love with your best friend and too afraid to confront it. That is a totally different situation. “And in the name of honesty, I must know if you are engaged to Miss Anne de Bourgh.” Yep, I said it. Caroline Bingley had me rattled, as did Mr. Collins’s impending arrival. For all I knew, I’d messed things up so much that Mr. Darcy was indeed engaged.

Mr. Darcy halted, his brows knitted just like Fitz’s when he was angry. “How do you know of Anne?”

Uh, Anne? Did that mean he was engaged to her?

“Miss Bingley informed me of the situation last night as we took a turn around the room.” Yes, I threw that dear under the bus. “She said you were to be engaged to Anne.”

“She is mistaken,” he said succinctly.

I smiled, though he still looked quite cross. “Then you should know that my cousin, Mr. Collins, arrives tomorrow. His benefactress is Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and, per his letter, he comes here on her errand.”

Mr. Darcy’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I wonder with whom my aunt corresponds here?”

I wanted to raise my hand and say,“Pick me, I know,”but I was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question. He had to know it was Miss Bingley or someone in their party. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“It is not you who upsets me.”

Ooh, this could be good. Was he going to let Miss Bingley have it? Maybe get her kicked out of Netherfield? Could I be that good of an Elizabeth? “I am glad to know.” I squeezed his arm, and we walked on.

Mr. Darcy seemed lost in his thoughts as I admired my handiwork. Jane and Mr. Bingley walked ahead of us, chatting animatedly. He’d even offered her his arm. If he didn’t make an offer of marriage soon, it would shock me.

I tried to think of something amusing to say to Mr. Darcy. Most of our conversations usually delved into deeper subjects. The only thing I could think of was, “Do you prefer cats or dogs?”

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