Page 73 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

“Yes, I think so,” I say. “I believe it’s called method acting.” I actually have no idea.

“Right,” she says.

“I will make no such promise. If Mr. Darcy feels for me what you suppose, it is not for you to decide his course—or mine,” Macey says, her arms folded in front of her as she stands her ground against Mr. Darcy’s rotten aunt.

Oh, but she is sexy when she’s pretending to be mad. Macey, not Lady Catherine—Lady Catherine just has a vein in her forehead that keeps threatening to burst.

“You will regret this, Miss Bennet. I will not rest until this absurd notion is banished from his mind,” Lady Catherine says, the vein popping out.

“Then I suggest you begin your task immediately, Lady Catherine. For I have no intention of bending to your will,” Macey says.

Lady Catherine glares at her before turning on her heel and walking away.

“Bravo!” someone says, and we all begin to clap.

Lady Catherine stops and turns to us, offering a grand bow, looking pleased with herself and the applause.

She claps her hands twice. “All right, everyone, we shall now proceed with our final reenactment for the day: the engagement between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth,” Lady Catherine announces. “Elizabeth, you will go sit on that bench, and Mr. Darcy, you will walk up this small path toward her.”

I nod, ready to say my lines. I’ve learned a lot about myself on this trip, like acting is not something I’d like to do in the future.

I do as Lady Catherine directed and walk up the path, watching as Macey turns to me, acting surprised to see me.

“Miss Bennet,” I say.

“Mr. Darcy,” she says, standing up from her seat.

“I had hoped for the chance to see you alone. Will you allow me to speak?”

She nods. “Of course.”

I think of the line in my head that I went over last night. It’s one of the longest ones I’ve had to memorize, and I hope I don’t mess it up. Not because of Lady Catherine, or the people watching, but for Macey. She’s the reason I’m here, after all.

Lady Catherine clears her throat. Right, I’ve been taking too long.

“You must allow me to tell you that my affections remain unchanged,” I tell her. “But I would not presume to speak again if your feelings are what they were last April. My feelings, Miss Bennet, have not altered. They are as strong as when I first had the honor of declaring them to you, though I now offer them only with the hope that time may have softened your opinion of me.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Macey says, looking away. “Your proposal last spring took me by surprise. But I must confess, so, too, does this one.”

“My conduct toward you then was unpardonable. I spoke to you with arrogance, with conceit, and with disregard for your feelings. I have no excuse but my own blindness.”

She looks at me again. “You are too generous to dwell so much on my reproaches. I spoke harshly then, and yet—”

“And you,” I say, interrupting her like the script said. “You were right. My character required improvement, and it was your words, however painful, that spurred me to examine myself.”

She smiles slightly. “And what did you find, Mr. Darcy?”

I take a step closer, and the familiar scent of roses and vanilla hits me. I could totally kiss her right now in front of everyone. I kind of want to, but I don’t think Lady Catherine would appreciate it.

“I found a man who had been selfish all his life and who, by loving you, had begun to learn what it meant to care for another above himself,” I say.

“Mr. Darcy, I can no longer doubt your sincerity, nor the depth of your regard.”

“Then may I hope?” I ask, eyebrows high as I await her answer.

“Yes. Yes, you may.”

I take her by the hand. “Miss Bennet, you have made me happier than I deserve.”

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