Page 39 of Without Pride and Prejudice
We entered a parlor suitable for entertaining guests, with a pianoforte and comfortable seating placed in groups. I’d played the instrument last night with Mary, helping her to loosen up and allow the passion for music to flow as her fingers glided across the keys. As we sang “The Last Rose of Summer,” I’d guided her with her inflections and given her some tips on how to stay on key. Considering Thomas Moore wrote the poem in 1805, and it’s said Jane Austen completed Pride and Prejudice prior to that, though it wasn’t published until 1813, I wasn’t sure if Elizabeth or Mary would actually have sung that song. But it was beautiful, and I felt like the melancholy nature of it was perfect for Mary. It was immaterial at that moment.
What was of greater concern was how Mrs. Bennet and all my “sisters” were out of their riding habits already and in the parlor doing needlework. Did no one care that my horse had thrownme? Had Lady Catherine sent everyone back to the house with instructions to act as if nothing had happened? Where was Lady Catherine to scold me? Or throw me out?
“Ma’am.” Mrs. Hill curtsied. “Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy have come to call. There has been an incident.”
An incident?
Mrs. Bennet looked up from fanning herself and cried, “Mr. Bennet! Come quick!”
Macey flew out of the chintz chair she was sitting in, letting the handkerchief she was embroidering fall to the side. “Lizzy,” she exclaimed before being dumbstruck by the presence of Zane and Fitz. Also, why was she calling me Lizzy at a time like this?
“Macey,” I said, hoping to put a stop to all this cosplay madness—we could go back to that later after I’d had a CAT scan.
“Who is Macey?” Carla laughed, doing her best Lydia.
This was no laughing matter.
“Lay her on the settee,” Mrs. Bennet frantically instructed. “Oh, my poor nerves.” She got over her nerves quickly, though, as she eyed both men and paid me no more attention. “Mr. Bingley, we heard you had gone to London to bring back a party to stay at Netherfield with you. We were hoping to see you at the Meryton assembly this evening and to have a proper introduction. You, of course, have already met Mr. Bennet.”
Where had all her motherly affection gone? She cared more about the assembly than me? Besides, we weren’t doing that scene tonight. That was tomorrow. And hello, she knew him already.
Fitz laid me on the settee. He looked relieved to do so and tried to back away as soon as possible, but I couldn’t let him go. I didn’t care that unresolved things stood between us. I’d never been more afraid in my life, and I needed him now more thanever, so I took his hand. “Alastair Fitzroy, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but this has to stop. Please.”
“Madam.” He raised his brows, shocked and appalled as he shook off my hand. “Madam, you have mistaken me for someone else.” He rushed from the room without saying a word to anyone.
It was then I knew something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
“Do not give way to useless alarm; though it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain.”
FITZ
I WATCHED HELPLESSLY NEARBY AS the paramedics assessed Monroe. The ambulance lights flashed in the field, while the rest of the guests and staff stood in shock—some stunned into silence, others crying and expressing their hopes she would be well. Monroe hadn’t regained consciousness, and I feared the worst. Several minutes had passed now, and I was hearing words likea traumatic brain or spinal cord injurycoming from the paramedics. Thankfully, she was breathing on her own, and oddly, her vitals were normal. Monroe was perplexing the medical professionals, just as she’d perplexed me for as long as I’d known her. To love someone as much as I loved her, despite knowing how complicated a romantic relationship would be, bewildered me. Yet I knew there was no one else for me except Monroe. And now I was faced with the possibility that ... I didn’t want to think about it.
But think about it I did. What if I lost Monroe? What if she never regained consciousness and she died thinking I didn’t want her or love her for who she was? The thought almost brought me to my knees, but I stood, trying to stay strong for her.
“I feel awful,” Jane sobbed into Bingley’s chest.
“It’s not your fault,” he tried to comfort her, though I could tell it annoyed him that she hadn’t just refused to ride the horse in the first place.
I didn’t blame Jane, but I wished she had refused to ride as well. What I wouldn’t give right now for Monroe to be telling me off. She did it so well, and I deserved it.
The insufferable Lady Catherine tapped me on the arm. “I hate to disturb you at such a time, but I must think about the park and the experience for the rest of our guests. I do hope you will stay on as our Mr. Darcy. Chances are there isn’t much you can do at the hospital. We will find you another Elizabeth.”
“I would be more than happy to take Monroe’s place.” Winnifred raised her hand, not looking abashed at all for her gross misconduct.
I had never felt such contempt in my life. There was no hiding myresting Darcy face, as Monroe would say. If only she were awake to say it, so I could pretend to be annoyed by it. My eyes narrowed and lips curled as I turned to face the awful women. “I can’t believe either of you has the audacity to worry about such trivial things while Monroe,” my voice hitched, speaking her name, but I regained my composure, hoping I would have the chance to break down in private, but needing for now to be strong for Monroe. “ . . . lies there hurt. How badly, we don’t know. Winnifred, I thought we were better friends than that,” I scolded her. “I thought you were a better person.”
Winnifred’s face burst into flames of red to match her auburn hair, but she said nothing in her defense.
“As for you,” I rounded on Lady Catherine. “You have been nothing short of vile to Monroe.”
Her mouth fell open, and she spluttered incomprehensible words, trying to defend herself.
“Monroe has dreamed for years of coming to this place, and you have treated her more than unfairly. Why? Because she doesn’t fit some mold?” My own words pierced what little heart I had. I felt disgusted with myself. Had I withheld myself from Monroe because she didn’t fit themoldof the peerage? “Her biggest crime was being excited to be here and wanting those around her to enjoy this fantasy along with her. But all you could do was look down your nose at her. So, no. If Monroe can’t be my Elizabeth, I will not be Mr. Darcy. I don’t give a damn who you get to replace me.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes watered while her hands shook so much, she clasped them together. “Well,” her voice trembled. “I am sorry that you feel this way.”
“You should be sorry for how you treated Monroe.” But not as sorry as I was for how I had treated her. “Don’t expect me to recommend this place.” I strode off.
