Page 66 of Without Pride and Prejudice

“Cousin, we must hurry,” Mr. Collins scolded. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh awaits.”

Yippee. I took my seat near Jane in the crowded carriage. At least the collective body heat helped stave off the cold.

I held Jane’s hand on the bumpy ride to Netherfield, lost in my thoughts. Who did I want to be? Did I have a choice in this place?

It didn’t take too long for us to arrive at Netherfield—too longbeing a relative term. I missed modern transportation. Iwould never complain about traffic again, if I ever made it back. I would just be thankful for the comfort of my car.

Mr. Collins practically hurled himself out of the carriage in search of Lady Catherine. As much as he’d surprised me, he was still a silly man. Mary followed after him, even though the rules of the day said Mrs. Bennet should have exited first. I wished I could have stayed in the carriage, but I feared hypothermia, so I exited after Jane, with the help of a footman.

We walked in to find a large gathering of people and an orchestra playing in the background. This was a much grander affair than the Meryton assembly. Nerves coursed through me as we made our way to the ballroom. All my relations dispersed in different directions, even Jane. I needed her to be my emotional support person—I dreaded seeing Lady Catherine and Miss Bingley, who probably couldn’t wait to lord over my head the fact that Mr. Darcy hated me.

Alone, I entered the elegantly decorated ballroom that smelled enchantingly of white roses and the earthy aroma of ivy, both of which were draped upon every surface imaginable. Soft candlelight danced and flickered, casting a warm and mesmerizing glow throughout the space. I felt as if I’d entered a fairy tale. At this point, it wouldn’t shock me if that were the case.

Unfortunately, the wicked stepmother had come to call in the form of Lady Catherine. As soon as I walked into the ballroom, Mr. Collins pointed me out to her. The traitor—after I’d given him a future wife who actually liked him. Where were the thanks?

Of course, Lady Catherine looked just like Agatha. She was wearing a purple velvet gown that swished violently as she marched over to me with her Dame Judi Dench wig, not to mention her grumpy face.

What had I ever done to her? Or ... was she finally here to inform me I was getting booted offFantasy Island? Please, please, let that be it.

Nope. She was definitely not Mr. Roarke’s counterpart.

“Miss Bennet,” she said, haughtier than I’d ever heard anyone speak, and that was saying something since I knew Fitz’s mum and Lady Winnifred.

“You can be at no loss as to why I, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, have made this journey to see you. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I came.”

Uh ... I was at a loss. Mr. Darcy hated me, and there would be no coming back from it. I knew things I shouldn’t know, and there was no way he was getting over that. I responded with part of a line straight from the book. “Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honor of seeing you here, especially as we have not been formally introduced.”

“Insolent girl. Walk with me.”

This was going to be fun.

We walked through the crowded ballroom, and as we did, I caught sight of Mr. Bingley and Jane engrossed in conversation, clearly happy. Charlotte was there with her much-older fiancé, looking relieved she would no longer be considered a burden to her parents. Mary and Mr. Collins headed to the pianoforte, probably to sing a number or two. The absence of Lydia running around making a fool of herself wasn’t lost on me. Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips sat in quiet conversation with each other instead of drawing attention to themselves. The biggest surprise of all was Mr. Wickham in the corner, chatting it up with Caroline Bingley, who seemed to be smiling and flirting with him. What? Was I hallucinating?

It was like I had repaired every problem, even making sure Caroline Bingley got her comeuppance for being so awful. Well,I hadn’t fixed everything—I’d messed up the biggest part of the story. No happy ending for Elizabeth. My heart sank.

Lady Catherine led us to Netherfield’s drawing room, a place where I had spent hours talking to Mr. Darcy about politics and poetry. I’d even impressed him with my musical skill on the pianoforte in the corner of the room. How had it all gone so wrong? I’d only wanted to protect Lydia and the Bennets.

Lady Catherine wasted no time berating me once we entered the room. She turned dramatically and said, “I received an alarming report about you and my nephew.”

“Which nephew?” I smirked. I mean, she could have more than one for all I knew. Jane Austen could have left that detail out of the story.

“You impertinent girl. You know I speak of Mr. Darcy.”

“What about him?”

Her face turned so red, I thought it would explode. “Do not play ignorant. You know he wishes to engage himself to you.”

I didn’t know the source of her declaration. “I think you are mistaken.”

“She is not,” Mr. Darcy said.

I twirled around so fast, I felt dizzy. “Mr. Darcy,” I said breathlessly as I took him in, standing by the door, looking as freaking hot as ever. That blue jacket and the cravat were totally him. His hair was even extra mussy. It reminded me so much of Fitz. They were so similar, but then, not really. Fitz would have never left me, even if I claimed to know his family’s deep, dark secret. But I couldn’t think of that at the moment. It was too confusing.

“Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine screeched. “You know it was your mother’s and my dearest wish for our children to be united.”

Mr. Darcy kept his eyes trained on me. “I am aware, but it has never beenmywish.”

“And who is this woman? What are her connections?”

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