Page 36 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

“It’s fine,” I say, looking down at myself and then back at her. “I do look ridiculous.”

She snorts out a laugh. “I promise, you really don’t. I, on the other hand ...” She trails off and gestures at herself with both hands.

“You look beautiful,” I say, and I wonder if I’ve ever said those words to her before. I don’t think I have, especially as the redness in her cheeks moves down to her neck, like I’ve set her aglow with my words.

She pushes the compliment away with a wobble of her head, like she’s not buying what I’m selling.

I take a small step toward her. “So, I feel like I need to apologize for earlier.”

“Why?” she asks, the smile gone, her brows raised.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you to say something to Lady Catherine.” It feels so absurd referring to that crotchety woman, with her over-the-top wig and offensive amount of cleavage, asLady.

“Oh,” she says, lifting one shoulder. “It’s okay. At least I know and wouldn’t be spending the rest of the week wondering if I should have said something.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t my place to press you like I did. I won’t do it again.”

She smiles softly. “I know you were trying to help. And anyway, it’s over now. I’m playing Jane, and it’s going to be great.” She gives me a firm nod like she’s trying to convince herself as well as me.

“Well then, Miss Bennet,” I say, in my best Regency accent, turning to the side and holding out an arm toward her. “May I escort you to lunch?”

“That would be lovely indeed,” she says, matching my tone as she tucks her fingers lightly into the crook of my elbow.

“How was your wardrobe fitting?” I ask, making conversation as we walk, dropping the accent because we only have a couple of minutes to just be Macey and Zane before we have to really lean into this whole reenactment thing.

“Great,” she says. “Except for the corset. That was as awful as I thought it would be.” She places a hand on her stomach, like the memory is triggering. “How am I supposed to eat with this thing on? It feels like it might crush my ribs at any moment.”

“That ... doesn’t sound comfortable.” I stumble over my words as a picture of Macey in a corset floats through my mind, and I reach up and tug at my cravat, suddenly feeling warm. Whatwasthat? I don’t think about Macey like that. Well, okay,I’ve noticed her body before. She has a very nice one. But that’s as far as my thoughts have ever gone. Maybe this cravat is actually cutting off circulation to my head.

“How was yours?” she asks.

I clear my throat. “I’m not a fan of the cravat,” I say.

“Why?”

“I feel like it’s trying to suffocate me,” I say, and she chuckles.

We stop at the entrance of the dining hall. The room is massive, with high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers. The walls are lined with sconces holding candles, and it smells faintly of polished wood with a dash of old money. Tables are set up in a long, straight line down the center of the room, with plates and glasses and way too much silver that I won’t have a clue how to use. Now that would have been a better use of time for my character briefing: learning which fork goes with what.

It looks like we might be the last of the group to arrive, and seeing everyone standing around chatting in their full costumes, I realize this might be the strangest thing I’ll ever do in my entire life.

“You ready for this?” Macey asks, squeezing my arm with her hand.

“Yes, very excited,” I say, sarcasm in my tone.

She snorts out a laugh. “Okay, listen, before we go in and pretend to be Jane and Bingley, I ... well ... thanks for coming with me,” she says. “I’m really glad I’m not doing this alone.”

“You sure about that?” I say, my lips pulling into a smile.

“Mostly sure,” she says, giving me a grin in return.

She fusses with her dress, swiping a hand down one more time before giving me a nod, and then we walk into the dining hall.

MACEY

An email from Macey to her mom, Monday, September 16, 7:30 p.m.

To:[email protected]

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