Page 62 of Without Pride and Prejudice

I waited for him to say something amazing. I just got that kind of vibe, like a my-greatest-wish-was-about-to-be-granted kind of vibe. But a conversation between Lydia and Mr. Bingley about the Netherfield ball filtered our way and stole the moment from me.

“I do hope you will still invite all the officers, despite Mr. Wickham’s being part of the regiment. Lizzy says we must stay away from him because of Mr. Darcy, but I do not think there is a way of getting around inviting him.”

Oh, Lydia. I knew her words would be unwelcome.

Mr. Darcy’s look of adoration for me turned cold. “What did you say about Mr. Wickham?” he seethed under his breath and for my ears only.

“Only that he seemed to make you uncomfortable, so we should avoid him.”

“I do not wish for my name to be connected to his in any way.”

“That is understandable, considering what he did to your sister.” My hand flew over my mouth, realizing my mistake too late.

Mr. Darcy’s eyes blazed with a fury I had never witnessed before. “How do you know such things?”

What do I say? Think of something. Anything that doesn’t sound as ridiculous as the truth.But nothing came except for the tears in my eyes that threatened to spill over. “I cannot say.”

Without any warning, he pushed his chair back, stood, and walked out of the room.

A deafening silence fell across the table, and all eyes landed on me.

My entire body erupted in flames from embarrassment. I couldn’t focus on anyone in the room. All I could think of was how I needed to repair this. But this time, I knew there was no fixing it. I’d single-handedly ruined one of the greatest love stories of all time.

“You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

FITZ

“HELLO, YOUR GRACE. I’M DR. Taylor,” an unknown man’s voice interrupted my vigil over Monroe. I grew more uneasy with every minute that ticked by. We were well into the night now, and still she would not wake. She’d twitched a few times in the past half hour, and each movement made me hope she would open her beautiful eyes. But the hope vanished each time, leaving me with disappointment and even despair.

“Dr. Taylor,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from begging Monroe to wake up.

The doctor, who was probably in his late thirties, pulled a rolling stool around to Monroe’s other side. Monroe would no doubt be sad to have missed him—I think he’s what she would refer to asdishy. Personally, I didn’t see the appeal.

“I’ve been going over her test results.” Dr. Taylor pulled out a penlight and manually opened Monroe’s eyes to exam them. “I admit she is a bit of an enigma.”

Tell me something I don’t know.

“Physically, we can’t find anything wrong with her. Her brain activity appears normal, which leads me to believe it may be more psychological.”

Was he calling her mental? “What does that mean?” I sounded more defensive than I felt.

The doctor lowered his penlight and smiled. “That is not a slight. In rare cases, patients dealing with trauma or severe stress can fall into a pseudo coma. We call it psychogenic unresponsiveness. Has Ms. Wilde experienced a recent trauma, or has she been under any undue stress? Any of those factors, combined with the fall, could account for her unresponsiveness.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “We had a row before she fell off the horse. I said some things I deeply regret. Is this my fault?” The thought sickened me.

“I doubt it, Your Grace. One lovers’ spat is hardly grounds for this condition.”

He didn’t know Monroe. I’d devastated her. This was deeper than a lovers’ spat. While we had never been lovers, we were more. These last hours I’d felt that more acutely than I ever had. She was the best part of me. “So, when will she wake up?”

“That is a good question. I think the best thing for now is to make sure Ms. Wilde feels safe, and we don’t forcibly arouse her.”

I’d love to arouse her. Not forcibly, obviously.

“Speak gently to her,” he recommended. “If she doesn’t wake up overnight, I suggest we transport her to a more specialized treatment center in London.”

I nodded, tortured by the thought that I was the reason for her unconscious state.

The doctor stood. “We’ll keep monitoring her. I’ll be back in an hour to check on her.”

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