Page 61 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

I stand there for a minute, wondering if maybe we should do the lines later—or just forget it entirely because it’s a super short scene, like three lines—when Lady Catherine rises from her chair and strides over, the skirts of her dark-purple dress swishing purposefully behind her.

“The show must go on, Mr. Darcy,” she says in a low, deliberate tone, her voice carrying an air of authority. “To falter would be to dishonor the spirit of Miss Austen herself.”

“I don’t know where Caroline is,” I tell her, glancing around helplessly.

“Then I shall play the part,” she declares, lifting her chin. “For the integrity of the story.”

Right. For the integrity of the story. I’ve changed my mind.Pride and Prejudicefans are definitely more outrageous than Star Wars ones. At least this particular fan standing in front of me, her eyes closed as she gets ready to take on the part of Caroline Bingley.

“The Bennet family is certainly lively, is it not, Mr. Darcy?” she says, saying Caroline’s line, her voice taking on a higher and more lilting quality than her normal terse one.

I school my features, trying very hard not to laugh. This would be a very bad time to do that. “They are indeed spirited,” I say. “It is a refreshing change from some company.”

She forces a smile. “How generous of you to say so,” she says.

With a bow, I walk away, feeling relieved that I’m done with my lines and am now free to enjoy the rest of the evening.

I walk toward Macey, who’s standing by the entrance to the ballroom, but I’m stopped by Lydia on my way.

“Fancy a dance, Mr. Darcy?” she says, her lips pulled up into a mischievous-looking grin.

I’m pretty sure it’s not canon for a woman to ask a man to dance, but I give her a quick bow and then follow her into the ballroom.

“WANT TO GET OUT OF here?” I say into Macey’s ear when I find her after an hour or so, standing in one of the adjoining rooms, finally alone.

She turns around, a soft smile on her face. I’ve been trying to get her alone and out of the ballroom for a while now, but every time I made a move, someone would intercept—asking one of us to dance and keeping us apart.

She looks tired; her face is flushed, her hair not as perfectly pulled up as it was at the beginning of the night, and I think she somehow looks even more beautiful this way.

“Why, Mr. Darcy,” she says, giving me a teasing smile. “That’s a very scandalous thing to ask of me. Think of my reputation.”

“What’s a reputation for, if not to ruin?” I ask, giving her a little smirk that makes her cheeks blush.

“I never took you for a rake,” she says.

I believe we are Regency flirting right now, and I can’t deny it’s kind of fun, even if I’m not exactly sure what a rake is. But I can make an educated guess from the context.

“Only in your company, Miss Bennet,” I say, my smirk turning into a grin. “You seem to bring out the worst—or perhaps the best—in me.”

“Then I shall have to take care, Mr. Darcy,” she says, tilting her head with a mock-serious expression. “For I would hate to be responsible for your complete downfall.”

I lean in closer to her. “I don’t think I’d mind that at all,” I say, dropping the accent, the flirting intentional.

Yes, I am absolutely flirting right now, and I can’t seem to bring myself to care.

My brazen comment makes her cheeks turn a fiery shade of red, and before I can think twice, I grab her hand. “Come on,” I say, tilting my head toward the door that I think leads outside.

“But Lady Catherine—” she says, tugging gently on my hand to pull me back.

“She won’t even know we’re gone,” I say, with a nod toward the ballroom where I see Lady Catherine at the center of the floor, currently leading a dance like she’s in some Regency-era nightclub. I’m expecting the crowd to start chanting her name at any moment.

“All right, then,” Macey says, leading the way.

There’s a chill in the air as we make our way out of Netherfield and into the night. It feels good right now because all the body heat made the ballroom stifling. It’s also a lot quieter out here.

“Where should we go?” she asks.

“The garden?” She gives me a nod, and I grab her by the hand, taking the lead.

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