Page 45 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

ZANE

An email from Zane’s assistant, Molly, to Zane, Monday, September 16, 7:35 p.m.

To:[email protected]

From:[email protected]

Subject:RE: Question

Zane,

This is your dad. Did you really think I wouldn’t see this? I’m getting all your emails. Would you please just enjoy your vacation?

Also, Mom said you didn’t go to Costa Rica after all and are now playing Mr. Darcy with Macey at that park? I’m not going to lie, Son. That sounds awful.

–Dad

“THESE ARE INDEED UNPRECEDENTED TIMES here at Pride and Prejudice Park,” Lady Catherine declares, her expression grave as she stands beside a composed but sullen Mr. Godfrey. “In all the illustrious years of our establishment, we have never had the misfortune of anyone taken away byparamedics. Naturally, we extend our heartfelt wishes to Miss Monroe Wilde and His Grace during this troubling time, and rest assured, you shall all be kept informed as updates arise.”

The mood in the room is heavy, a mixture of sad faces and sniffles—most of the sniffling coming from Macey, who’s sitting next to me. With my arm around her shoulders, I give her a little squeeze. My heart has finally stopped racing, and part of me is grateful I’m not wearing my watch because it would have definitely been giving me warnings earlier.

Lady Catherine continues, her tone firm and resolute as she nods toward us. “But, as they say, the show must go on. We must rally and press forward. The Meryton Assembly is scheduled for this evening, with townsfolk already engaged to lend authenticity to the occasion. Regrettably, it cannot be canceled at this late hour, nor postponed until tomorrow. Therefore, we shall take a brief respite, partake of a light luncheon, and then return to our preparations. I am certain this is precisely what Elizabeth Bennet herself would expect of us—grace under duress.”

“Is she for real?” Macey says quietly to me.

“Oh, she’s real all right,” I say. But honestly, are any of us surprised by this? It was only minutes after the paramedics came that she was trying to convince his grace, or whatever he goes by, to stay on as Darcy. The woman is a total nut job.

Macey sits up a little taller, opening her mouth as if to say something about how crass the woman sounds, and for a moment I think she might actually do it, but I see when she’s changed her mind, her shoulders falling as she leans back onto my arm.

I feel like, for Macey, the fear of the runaway horse has been overshadowed by Monroe’s fall. I’d think after that ordeal she’d be more shaken up, but she seems to be more concerned about what came after.

I, on other hand, am not quite over it. I think that’s why I’ve still got my arm around her. I can’t seem to stop touching her, like if I don’t, she might slip away—as if I need the reassurance that she’s really here, safe and unhurt.

When I saw her on that runaway horse, I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my entire life. I thought for sure something horrible was going to happen to her, and there was nothing I could do. The relief I felt when the mostly incompetent stable master finally slowed Thunderbolt down was so overwhelming, I’ll probably never forget that feeling. I also won’t be able to forget Macey’s frightened face and the way she trembled and cried when I held her in my arms.

Just thinking about it now has me tugging her a bit closer on the small couch we’re sharing. She turns her head toward me, giving me a strange look, probably wondering why I’m being so touchy, since I’ve never been like this before. Not that I can remember, at least. I should probably stop, but I’m not ready to let her go just yet.

“Now,” Lady Catherine says, her commanding tone drawing all eyes to her, “as His Grace has accompanied Miss Monroe to the hospital, we are left without our Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. While our staff stands ever ready to assume any role at a moment’s notice, I cannot help but feel that such pivotal characters as these warrant special consideration. Perhaps among you, there are those who would rise to the occasion and take on these esteemed roles, befitting the central figures of our tale?”

I glance at Macey to see her reaction, wondering if she might be even the slightest bit excited at the prospect because, of course, the part of Elizabeth has to go to her. It only makes sense. But she only blinks rapidly toward Lady Catherine, as if unsure she’s hearing correctly.

“Do I have any volunteers?” Lady Catherine asks, looking around the room.

“I could do it!” Lydia pipes up in her thick Cockney accent. “I’d make a right old great Elizabeth, wouldn’t ya say?” The laughter’s muted—not like the big belly laughs Lydia usually gets.

“Thank you, Lydia,” Lady Catherine says, and it’s clear by her expression that she would rather anyone but her play the role. “Anyone else?”

“I’ll play Mr. Darcy,” the guy playing Wickham says, as if he thinks this is obviously the best choice. The man is a loser. I don’t really even know anything about him, and yet he still gets on my nerves.

“Why, yes,” Lady Catherine says, not sounding convinced. “But then who would play Mr. Wickham?”

Did she not just say her staff could take on any role?

“Anyone else?” she asks, an almost begging quality to her voice. It’s obvious she doesn’t want the guy anywhere near the part of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

I turn to Macey. “Say something.”

“Don’t start,” she says.

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