Page 53 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

ZANE

A letter from Macey to Zane, Tuesday, September 17, 7:02 p.m.

Mr. Darcy,

I am most affronted by your declaration. Not handsome enough to tempt you? I shall summon my lady’s maid and demand the mirror at once to determine how I might remedy this grievous fault. Is it my nose? My hair? It’s my forehead, isn’t it? I’ve always suspected it’s much too big.

Until I uncover the truth, I must console myself with the knowledge that, at the very least, my toes will be spared. For now.

Barely breathing in a corset,

Miss Bennet

“PSST, MACEY,” I WHISPER FROM behind a tree outside Longbourn. All the lights in the house have been turned off except one on the top floor. She’s standing in the doorway wearing the same dark-blue dress from tonight with a short, cropped jacket over the top.

She sees me and then looks around to make sure the coast is clear before heading my way.

She’s giggling as she approaches. “What are we doing?” she asks when she reaches the tree—a tree that’s definitely not wide enough to hide us. Not to mention, we’re sitting ducks on the other side of it.

“Come on,” I say, grabbing her by the hand, and we begin to run toward Netherfield, where I found a secluded walled garden hidden behind the house, with tall brick walls draped in ivy and a wrought-iron gate slightly ajar. Enough for us to slip through.

Macey doesn’t ask me where we’re going; she simply trusts me as we run through the property, taking a more circuitous route, staying in the shadows and darting behind statues and other trees to check for people before continuing. It reminds me of when we were younger. She was always so trusting, following my lead when I’d get her and Amelia to sneak into the community pool after hours. She’d be giggling so hard, she could barely climb over the short metal fence.

We’re out of breath by the time we reach the garden, and I let go of her hand to slip inside the gate as she follows right behind.

“Wow,” she says, looking around. “I bet this is pretty during the day.”

“It is,” I say. I found it earlier as I was walking back from Longbourn and had to check it out. With its weathered walls and flowers and hedges lining the inside, it looked like a secret place to just sit and think. And so that’s what I did. I sat on a bench facing a fountain in the center and thought about my life. I didn’t have any epiphanies. Honestly, my mind kept coming back to Macey and her smiling face as she played Elizabeth in the opening scene. I was happy I got to see it, to witness Macey in her element.

When I saw her at the assembly tonight, looking so beautiful, I nearly forgot I was supposed to be acting like an aloof Darcy. I had to consciously stop myself from smiling at her or letting myeyes linger too long. She seemed to glow in that dark-blue dress, her hair swept up to show off the lovely curve of her neck.

Then we weren’t allowed to spend time together because we had to stay in character ... and I don’t know. I didn’t like it. I tried to have fun, to enjoy myself, but all I wanted to do was find Macey, and be with her. I spent most of the night looking for her. So, remembering this garden, I proposed the idea of meeting later, and here we are.

It’s cool out tonight, but not unpleasant. The air is crisp, clinging to my skin just enough for me to notice without it being uncomfortable. There’s the earthy scent of fallen leaves, and overhead, stars peek through the clouds, casting just enough light to make this garden feel like a hidden little world.

I sit down on the bench facing the fountain and pat the spot beside me. A smile plays on Macey’s lips as she settles next to me. The gentle trickle of water muffles any sounds beyond the garden walls, making it seem even more secluded in here.

“So what’s the plan?” she asks, turning her head toward me, her voice soft. The bench is small, so we’re sitting close, pressed together from shoulders to knees.

The plan? Honestly, I don’t have one. I just wanted to bring her here, away from everyone else. No Lady Catherine hovering over us with her clipboard, no lectures about keeping a respectable distance. Just us, the quiet night, and a little breathing room to enjoy it.

“I don’t have one,” I say, and she chuckles.

“But you wanted to sneak away? I thought you had something grand planned.”

I lift a shoulder and let it drop. “I just wanted to spend time with you without everyone around.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice breathy. I can’t see in the dark, but I’m sure her cheeks are a light shade of pink right now.

“And now here we are,” she says, after some silence.

“And now here we are,” I echo.

My hand is so close to hers, if I wanted to, I could reach over and grab it. But I’ve never held Macey’s hand like that, with no purpose. It’s always been because I’m dragging her somewhere, or helping her climb over something, or steadying her after she trips. This would be different—intentional, deliberate. My fingers twitch at the thought, but I stop myself, unsure if she’d want me to, or if I want me to. I kind of do, and I haven’t taken a minute to think about why, about what’s changed. But ... something has.

“Step on many toes tonight?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“So many,” I say, and she smiles.

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