Page 38 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

And like right now as she puts on an outfit I don’t think is part of the clothing we were given today. Wonder how she snuck that in? When she slips on the lovely tweed jacket that flares slightly at the waist, it reminds me of a riding jacket, and just like that, my happy bubble pops as the looming horse debacle rushes to the front of my mind. How am I going to endure the riding lessons tomorrow morning?

“That’s a beautiful jacket,” I tell her, feeling a bit sickly.

I’ve been trying not to think about it, because every time I do, I feel like I might throw up. My strategy for the day was simple: shove it out of my mind whenever it popped up. And it worked ... until now. Now I’m wishing I’d thought to bring the panic attack medication my doctor prescribed. But I didn’t, because it was just that one time. It might come in handy tomorrow, though—except you’re not supposed to operate heavy machinery while taking it. And isn’t a horse basically heavy machinery? No, it’s probably for the best that I left it behind.

You are strong. You are brave. You can ride a horse, you big freaking baby.

“Are you all right?” she asks me, her brows pulling down with concern.

I nibble on my lip. “It’s silly, but your jacket sort of looks like a riding jacket, and it reminded me that we have riding lessons tomorrow. I’ve got this stupid fear of horses, from an incident when I was younger. It’s kind of the reason I didn’t want to be Jane. Elizabeth isn’t a horsewoman.”

She tilts her head to the side, empathy on her face. “Well,” she says. “This Elizabeth is a horsewoman.” She points to herself. She tells me the duke has a stable full of horses and he taught her how to ride them.

“Granted, I’ve never ridden sidesaddle, but I’ll help you. Wait, that probably isn’t a very comforting thought,” she says, with a nervous laugh. Elizabeth, or really Monroe in this case, wants to help everyone but claims she has a knack for making things worse. I’ve yet to see it for myself. She’s been helpful to me. She even heard about the mix-up with our characters and tried to get Lady Catherine to let there be two Elizabeths this week, but that “was not canon.” Heaven forbid.

“You’re so sweet to offer,” I say. “I’m sure it will be fine.” My voice does a little cracking thing on that last word, most likely assuring her Iwill notbe fine.

Anyway, she’s got enough on her plate without having to worry about me. She filled me in on the saga while we were picking out our wardrobes. Apparently, this trip to Pride and Prejudice Park was supposed to be her honeymoon, but her fiancé called off the wedding so she made the duke come with her instead. But, in a very odd turn of events, her ex showed up and is the smarmy guy playing Wickham, and she also told me the woman playing Caroline Bingley is here because she’s after the duke. Oh, the drama. It’s much more fun to hear about other people’s drama than to live it yourself. Like when your boyfriendcheats on you with your roommate and leaves you homeless. What a great time that was.

“Okay, let’s get you ready for your date with Mr. Darcy.”

Once she’s ready and out the door—with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet helping her sneak out—I pull out my script and flip it open. I’ve got Jane’s lines to learn and a horse to ride tomorrow. So, I’ll focus on memorizing lines and pretend the horse doesn’t exist. Delusion at its best.

ZANE

An email from Zane to his assistant, Molly, Monday, September 16, 7:15 p.m.

To:[email protected]

From:[email protected]

Subject:Question

Molly,

I know my dad told you not to, but can you keep me informed about the situation with Summit?

Also, if you could forward me my emails, even though you were told not to, that would be great.

Thanks so much.

–Zane

MY SLEEP LAST NIGHT WAS rough—not because the bed was uncomfortable or because the temperature in Netherfield, where I’m staying, was too cold, but because I was in a different environment. It always takes me a few nights to adjust to any new place. I also stayed up too late working on lines.

I will say this: Today, so far, may be a little—or a lot—more luxurious than it would have been in Costa Rica. I had planned to stay at a small hotel, sit on the beach, do some hiking, and see where things took me. There was no plan for food or activities. This trip has everything planned to the minute, everyone is at our service, and last night my valet, Dunley, literally helped me get undressed. I don’t think I’ve been helped out of my clothes in ... well, a long time.

Then this morning, he was waiting outside my door to help me get dressed. It was oddly nice having someone pick out my outfit for me. A man could get used to this. Today, I’m in a crisp white shirt with a high-standing collar and ruffles at the cuffs—which I’m not a fan of. My waistcoat is a dark, forest green, and my charcoal-gray riding jacket fits snugly. After breakfast, the first thing on the schedule is horseback riding, something I haven’t done in years.

My boots, tall and polished, are perfect for the stables, and even more uncomfortable than the ones I was wearing yesterday. Dunley tied my cravat less tightly after I insisted, though he muttered something about Lady Catherine liking it the other way. I don’t care what Lady Catherine likes—I’m not suffocating today.

Yesterday, despite the chaos in the beginning, wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected. In fact, it was actually kind of fun, though I don’t know if I’d ever admit that out loud. The etiquette lesson felt like borderline torture, but the dancing made up for it—even though I’m terrible at it. I stepped on more than a few toes, especially Macey’s. Or Jane’s, I guess. I haven’t been very good at calling her that, and Lady Catherine reprimanded me more than once.

The food’s even been good, though a bit different from what I’m used to, since my meals as of late have been mostly the microwave variety or takeout. Last night we had roasted duckand salmon, along with some kind of jellied dish they called aspic, which I wasn’t brave enough to try. There was also a side of buttered turnips that I didn’t hate as much as I thought I would. And then for dessert, I ate this gingerbread cake that was honestly one of the better things I’ve eaten in a long time.

Later, when we played whist, I was surprised to find I didn’t mind it. It’s a game of strategy and skill, and I enjoyed the challenge. The clear rules for the game offered a sense of control—something I haven’t been feeling all that much of lately.

During our “leisurely pursuits,” which was in the library where we did our character briefings, I logged into my work email on my phone and there was ... nothing. My dad must have told my assistant to hold my emails, knowing I’d check them instead of staying on task. Imagine his surprise when he finds out I’ve been working on perfecting a three-quarter turn in a country dance and mastering a finesse in whist rather than determining what my future plans are. If anything, this trip so far has kept me from really thinking about my future at all, which could be good or bad. The jury is still out.

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