Page 33 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

“Lady Catherine,” I say, loud enough for her to hear, hoping that using her character name will earn me some brownie points. I need her on my side.

“Yes?” she says, stopping just in front of the stairs and fixing me with an irritated look, as though my interruption is already testing her patience. So the kissing up didn’t work. Maybe I should compliment her wig, or her purple dress, or her ample bosom?

“Um,” I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I catch up to her. I abandon the flattery plan and get straight to the point. “So sorry, but I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a mix-up.”

“Oh?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, her expression sharp and assessing.

“Yes,” I say, licking my lips nervously. “My welcome packet, which is with my things, says I am to play Elizabeth, and my plus-one, should I bring one, would play Mr. Darcy.”

Her brows knit together, and her posture stiffens.

“I won it in the giveaway,” I add quickly, hoping this might jog her memory.

“The giveaway?” she repeats, her tone cold and clipped, her brows sinking even lower.

“Yes, last spring,” I say, trying to jog her memory.

“My dear, I daresay we haven’t given away a trip in years. Such gestures are entirely unnecessary when our guest list is always full and our wait list positively overflowing.”

“What?” I ask, confused. “Really?”

“It is conceivable that it was some sort of third-party arrangement. We do occasionally permit such giveaways under certain circumstances.”

“Oh, yes, that’s probably what it was.” I actually can’t remember what contest Amelia entered us into. I never asked.

“I can vouch for her,” Zane chimes in from behind me, startling me. I hadn’t realized he was standing so close. “I saw the packet myself.”

Lady Catherine lets out an exasperated sigh. “Well, I should need to see it with my own eyes to be certain, but alas, what’s done is done. I shan’t be able to remedy it now.” She casts a pointed glance toward the grand staircase. “Especially not when His Grace has so graciously agreed to play Mr. Darcy. His Grace’s presence is a most extraordinary privilege for this park—one that I do not take lightly. I would not dare to disturb his role, nor that of the lady accompanying him, much as I wouldn’t mind it.” She says the last part more as an aside, but I heard it.

My stomach sinks. I’d expected something like this, if I’m being honest, but hearing it stings all the same.

“Well, I feel like something should be done,” Zane says, and I tighten my lips and shake my head, silently begging him to stop. Pestering this woman feels like a very bad idea.

Lady Catherine arches a disdainful brow. “At best, if there has indeed been an error in the arrangements, the only course of action I can offer is for you to depart now and return at a later date to assume the role of Elizabeth. I shall have someone reach out to discuss rescheduling, though I must warn you we are fully booked through the end of next year.”

Leave now? Rescheduling? After all the drama it took to get here in the first place? This! This is why you just comply and keep your mouth shut. I can’t come back for a different week. I’d have to take more time off work, rearrange my entire schedule, and somehow find another Mr. Darcy to go with me—because it certainly wouldn’t be Zane, who’s standing here, hands on his hips, looking like he’s about to ask to speak to the manager.

“Oh, no rescheduling necessary,” I say, trying to sound as cheery as I can under the circumstances. “I’d be honored to play Jane.” Zane makes a scoffing noise, as if he can’t believe I’m just going to take this.

But I am going to take this. This is a one-and-done trip for me, the only shot I’ll ever get at Pride and Prejudice Park. It may not be starting out exactly how I was imagining, but I’m still here, and this is still a win. This trip can still be the bright spot of this crappy year. Besides, I still get to be a Bennet, and Jane suits me better anyway. Even with a horse. Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe this is how I finally get over my fears.

You are strong. You are brave. You are ... full of crap.

“Are we settled here, then?” Lady Catherine asks, her tone sharp.

“Yes, sorry,” I reply quickly. Then, remembering myself, I add, “Your Ladyship.”

“Good. Then head upstairs for your costume fittings. We mustn’t dally,” she says, turning with a dramatic swirl of skirts as she ascends the staircase.

It’s mostly silent now; the only noise is the faint chatter from everyone upstairs.

“Are you really happy to be playing Jane?” he asks, his voice softer than I expect, and it sounds like genuine concern, which is making it hard to hold back the tears prickling behind my eyes right now, threatening to spill over.

I’m not sad, I’m just ... I don’t know. Overwhelmed, I guess. Too many feelings running through me at once. Happy to have that resolved, anxious because confrontation is itchy, nervous about the horse thing, disappointed because ... well, I don’t need to spell that out. It’s just ... a lot.

I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but my throat feels tight, and I can hear the slight waver in my voice as I respond. “Yes,” I say, nodding a little too quickly, as if the motion might convince both him and myself. “It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

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