Page 39 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

I think what I’m liking the most is not having to make any decisions here. It’s refreshing to be part of something where the only effort required is showing up and playing my part. No strategy sessions. No PowerPoint presentations. No leadership team meetings that could have been taken care of with a simple email. Hell, I don’t even have to be Zane here at all, if I don’t want to. I’m Mr. Bingley now. I smile and talk about the weather. It’s so much easier than being myself with all I have weighing on me.

Breakfast this morning is at the main house, which doubles as Pemberley and Rosings Park—Lady Catherine’s estate—with Netherfield being the farthest house away. But I enjoy the crisp morning as I walk there. It’s quieter than I was expecting; except for some grounds staff, I’m by myself. The only noise is thecrunch of the gravel path under my rigid and already painful boots. The air smells like rain, and the breeze bites enough to make me shove my hands into the pockets of my riding jacket.

When I enter the dining hall, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits me first, followed by something buttery and just out of the oven. My stomach growls. I immediately spot Lady Catherine—in some fluffy, plum-colored getup and an even bigger wig atop her head—sitting at a table with the woman playing my sister Caroline, and immediately veer away, not wanting another lecture.

Scanning the room, I can’t find Macey among the guests already filling their plates at the buffet. Feeling awkward standing here waiting for her, I decide to grab a plate, and pile it with scones, eggs, and bacon, then find a seat at the long table, choosing a spot farther away from everyone else. This way I can avoid chatting in character. Perhaps on this Tuesday morning, Mr. Bingley needs some alone time.

Macey walks in with Elizabeth only a minute later, and I can’t help but smile when I see her. A sense of comfort settles over me as I watch her follow Elizabeth to the table and take a seat beside her. She’s wearing a navy skirt and jacket, her red hair done up in some sort of twist, and she looks beautiful. But she also looks distracted, like something is bothering her.

Curious, I grab my plate and go around the table, taking the empty seat next to her.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” I say, staying in character.

“Mr. Bingley,” she says when she sees me, giving me a quick nod of her head. She doesn’t look happy. In fact, she looks a little pale.

Worried, I lean in toward her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she says, fidgeting with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Is it the corset?” I regret saying the word because that same vision of Macey wearing one comes into my mind.

“What?” She looks at me, her brows pulled downward, but then they move back up her forehead when she remembers our conversation yesterday. “Oh, no, that isn’t it.”

“Macey,” I say, for only her ears. “What’s wrong?”

She lets out a breath. “We have to ride horses next,” she says.

I lean in with a questioning look on my face. “And?”

I lean in even closer, and I get a whiff of roses and something softer, maybe vanilla. It’s subtle but enough to make me lose my train of thought for a second.

“Miss Bennet, Mr. Bingley,” Lady Catherine’s voice rings out, and we instantly pull away from each other. “I trust you understand that such familiarity is highly unseemly unless one’s intentions are properly declared. We wouldn’t want to give the other guests the wrong impression, now would we?”

“Sorry, Your Ladyship,” Macey says, and the woman playing my sister snorts out a laugh, at which Lady Catherine turns to her, giving her a stern look, making her lower her head, looking scolded.

“And what, say you, is the problem with riding horses ... dear Miss Bennet?” I say, still quietly, but this time using my accent and sounding like a moron. I really am terrible at improvising.

The corners of her lips move upward for a brief second before dropping.

“Thank you for your inquiry, Mr. Bingley. I must confess, I have harbored a fear of horses since I was but a young girl.” She gives me a sad smile.

I look over to Lady Catherine to see if she’s paying attention to us still, but instead her eyes are shooting daggers at Mr. Darcy, who’s now seated beside Elizabeth, having what looks to be an intense conversation.

I take this chance to be Zane and Macey again. “What do you mean?” I ask, my voice just above a whisper.

She gives me wide why-aren’t-you-getting-this eyes. “Don’t you remember?” she asks, whispering back. “That time you, Amelia, and I went horseback riding up at Apple Hill and I fell off? It knocked the wind out of me.”

I shake my head, not remembering any of it.

“Well, ever since then, I’ve had a massive fear of horses and the thought of riding one. And now I have to today.”

“Macey,” I say. “It’ll be fine.”

“Will it?” She looks at me with glistening eyes.

“You could tell them you don’t want to,” I say. “You don’t have to do it.”

Her eyes widen. “Of course I do. That’s what Jane does—rides to Netherfield, gets sick, and stays there. It’s canon.”

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