Page 32 of Without Pride and Prejudice
“Of course not. I adore who you are. All I’m saying is, if we want to make this work—and I do more than anything—we just need to make some adjustments.”
“Adjustments? Like what?” I was both curious and honestly a tad furious that he was being so cavalier with my feelings.
“For starters, you just need to be more discreet in public and not draw so much attention to yourself.”
I felt like Lady Catherine’s instructions were coming right out of his mouth and he was giving me an etiquette lesson.
Fitz paced back and forth. “We definitely need to buy you a new wardrobe. And it would serve us well if you didn’t dash to everyone’s rescue.”
He might as well have stabbed me in the heart. In fact, my heart stung so badly, I reached up and rubbed it as I stared in disbelief at the person I loved and admired most in the world basically telling me I wasn’t good enough for him. As he kept listing all the adjustments I needed to make, from thinking before I acted to no more pajama pants while grocery shopping, all I could see and hear was Mr. Darcy telling Elizabeth Bennet,“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admireand love you.”And then proceeding to detail her inferiority in every way, and why he basically loved her against his will.
“Youtalk Darcybetter than anyone I know,” I stammered, doing my best to keep my feelings in check. Fitz was obviously just as proud and arrogant as Mr. Darcy.
Fitz stopped pacing and paused his list of all the things I needed to change about myself. He looked surprised at my emotion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you obviously think having a romantic relationship with me goes against your better judgement and is below you. Clearly, any connection with me outside of friendship is reprehensible.”
“Bloody hell. You’re taking this all wrong.” He rushed my way.
I held my hand up, telling him to keep his distance. “I don’t think so.”
He halted in his tracks, mere inches from me. “Can’t you see that I’m just trying to protect you?”
“Funny. It sounds like you’re trying to protect yourself and your image,” my voice hitched.
“That’s not true.”
“It is. If not, you would have acted on yoursupposedfeelings years ago.” Fitz not coming to my wedding was all making sense now. He had feelings for me, but he didn’t want to act on them because even he couldn’t see me as an Elizabeth. “Well, guess what?” I raised my voice, feeling crushed. Absolutely crushed. “I never wanted to be a duchess or live in your noble world. And I don’t want to be with someone who I embarrass and can’t be myself around. As far as I’m concerned, you and the Lady Winnifreds and Catherines of the world can go to h-e-l-l.” I don’t know why I spelled it out instead of just saying it. But I’d never really told anyone off, much less my best friend.
“Monroe.” Fitz grabbed my hand. “It was never my intention to hurt you.”
I yanked my hand away, tears streaming down my cheeks, feeling as if I’d just lost my best friend—probably because I had. “Wow. If that wasn’t your intention, I can’t imagine how awful it would have been if you really had been trying. Good night, Fitz.” I turned and sprinted through the forest. Thankfully, the jerk didn’t follow me. Racking sobs erupted from my chest, making it hard to breathe. I should never have agreed to meet him. I don’t care what Mr. Bennet said. A girl doesnotlike to be crossed in love now and then, especially by her best friend.
“Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
FITZ
I STARED OUT THE WINDOW at the well-manicured grounds in the early light, seeing my behavior more clearly than I had the night before, even though I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept a wink. Visions of a hurt and angry Monroe had tormented me all night. After our first kiss that had set my world aflame, I had consumed myself with the thought of making us work. In her eyes last night, I saw my future—days and nights filled with love and laughter and children. I knew she’d felt it too, so I’d assumed she and I were on the same page about what needed to happen. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Not only had she berated me in the forest, but when I realized the magnitude of what had happened, I’d chased after her, only to have her call me an arse and to tell me to sod off. For a split second she’d grinned at using what some deem to be vulgar language here in the UK, but she bounced back to hating me in no time at all. So much so, she told me she wouldn’t have to pretend to despise me when we rehearsed the Meryton ball reenactment later this afternoon. Worse, she said I’d ruined our friendship and there was no going back now. Then she threw the letter I’d written in my face.“You can keep your pretty words,”she’d cried. Those written words were the most honest I’d ever been in my life.
To say I felt gutted was a vast understatement. Her tears and the way she’d trembled from pain tormented me, especially since she wouldn’t allow me to comfort her. I thought she knew me well enough to understand I only wanted to protect her. But perhaps she was right—I’d been looking to protect my own image as much as hers. And I concede that I probably didn’t choose the right words. I’d just wanted her to see the extent of how some of herquirkybehaviors might hurt her in the press. If ever she read the article in theDaily Mail, it would mortify her. I didn’t want that. But instead, I’d hurt and mortified the woman I loved myself, and probably ruined any future happiness we could have had together. Bloody hell, what a mess I’d made of all of it.
I had to fix it—I needed to talk to Monroe. Without a second thought, I put on my coat with tails and strode out of my room, intent on setting off for the Longbourn house. Unfortunately, I ran into a roadblock in the form of Winnifred, dressed in a pale-peach silk dress and wearing an evil grin.
“Alastair, did you see?” she asked gravely, while elegantly prancing my way.
“See what?” I asked, annoyed, knowing exactly what she was referring to.
“Well,” she tried to seem concerned, but her body language revealed ulterior motives in every part. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but I fear you must know. There was a nasty article about Monroe in theDaily Mail.” There was no hiding the delight in her eyes.
“I am aware. And you are correct, it was nasty, and I found it utterly distasteful.” Why hadn’t I said this to Monroe last night instead of telling her she was unconventional? I was a complete knobhead.
“You have to admit, she did look ridiculous,” Winnifred changed tactics.
“I don’t have to admit a thing.”
Growing desperate, she said, “Your mother is quite upset and fears what this will do to your family name and your social standing. As do I.”
