Chapter Twenty-One
ZANE
A letter from Zane to Macey, Saturday, September 21, 1:02 a.m.
Miss Bennet,
You brazenly kissed me last night in the gardens. I know you will claim it was I who initiated it, but I maintain the blame lies entirely with you—and that rose-and-vanilla scent you always wear. Truly, it left me powerless.
For this reason, I must confess that I most ardently wish to do it again.
I trust you will conduct yourself with greater propriety tomorrow. Or don’t. Honestly, it’s much more fun when you don’t.
Yours in propriety (or lack thereof),
Mr. Darcy
“YES!” A TEARY-EYED JANE says to Bingley after he’s proposed to her.
I’m not part of this scene, but I’m here at Longbourn watching, only because I’ll take any chance to see Macey this morning after that kiss in the garden last night. We actually kissed a lot more than just the one time. We basically made out until pretty late, and then I walked her back to the parsonage-turned-inn and kissed her one more time behind a tree before reluctantly letting her go. Then it took me hours to fall asleep. I kept thinking about the softness of her lips, the feel of her body against mine. Needless to say, I’m exhausted.
One thing I know for sure: That ex-boyfriend of hers needs to be throttled. Macey’s kisses were ... well, they were kind of perfect. Or maybe it’s because things feel so good with her. So real. Regardless, she absolutely knows how to kiss, and that guy is an idiot.
“Mr. Darcy,” she says, walking up to me once the scene is over. She curtsies, a knowing smile on her lips.
“Miss Bennet,” I say, grabbing her hand and bringing it to my lips, in front of everyone.
She gives me wide eyes.
“Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine says, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “I must remind you that such displays are entirely unbecoming of your stations. Have you no regard for decorum or the example you set for others? This is not a tavern; nor are we common villagers lacking in propriety.”
“Yes, Your Ladyship,” Macey says. Looking at me like I’m going to pay for this later.
I can’t help myself. I just want to be with Macey, to touch her, to kiss her. Part of me wonders why it took me so long to realize my feelings for her. Every little thing about her—the way she laughs, the way she cares too much, even the way she second-guesses herself—makes me want to hold her closer. And now that I’ve let myself feel it, there’s no going back.
“Gentlemen, ladies,” Lady Catherine announces, her voice rising above the chatter in the small room. “We must adjourn to your respective houses for luncheon. Following that, we will reconvene here for our next scene. Do be punctual.”
She claps twice and walks out of the room, her skirt swishing behind her.
“Are you trying to get us in trouble?” a pink-cheeked Macey says to me once Lady Catherine has left.
“Maybe,” I say honestly.
“No romantic pursuits,” she reminds me.
“We broke that rule last night,” I say, giving her a wink. Her cheeks flush an even brighter pink.
“Have some decorum,” she says, repeating Lady Catherine’s words with a mock-serious tone.
“But I don’t want to have decorum around you,” I say, watching as the blush spreads down to her neck.
She shakes her head at me, but she’s smiling.
“Oy, look at the two of you,” Lydia says, her cockney accent slipping back into place. “Somethin’ goin’ on between Darcy an’ Elizabeth?”
“Yes,” Macey says, her face turning crimson now. “We’re about to get engaged.”
Lydia’s eyebrows shoot up. “For real?”
Macey quickly shakes her head. “No, in the reenactment.”
“Oh, right.” Lydia shrugs, losing interest almost instantly and wandering off.
“I’m going to miss her,” I say, a head nod toward the unpredictable woman.
“Me too,” Macey says. “Now, you need to go to lunch back at your own place, since you can’t seem to behave yourself around me.”
I smile slyly, and she shakes her head and then points to the door.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll be seeing you later, Miss Bennet. I hope you won’t miss me too much.”
“I won’t,” she says, but the smile on her face tells me she definitely will.
“I DEMAND YOUR REFUSAL, MISS Bennet. Promise me you will never accept him,” Lady Catherine says, standing in front of Macey during the older woman’s final reenactment.
We’ve been outside in the gardens of Longbourn, watching their verbal sparring. I might be biased, but I’m pretty sure Macey is winning. Well, Elizabeth is.
“Did I just see some spit come out of ’er mouth?” Kitty asks quietly, leaning toward me as we stand off to the side, watching.
“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.”
And the thing is, I actually mean it. Macey has made me happier than I’ve had any right to be lately.
She laughs softly. “And you have surprised me more than I can say.”
The way she says it, I think she might actually mean it too. I think we’ve both been surprised on this trip.
I take her by the hand, and we walk down the path.
“Hear! Hear!” one of the onlookers says, while everyone claps and whistles.
Normally, I’d expect Lady Catherine to shush the crowd, demanding some refinement or decorum, but instead, she joins in, clapping along with everyone else.
“Should we bow?” I ask Macey.
“I think we should,” she says.
MACEY
“ZANE?” I SAY AS I slip through the garden door, just like I did last night.
I look around but can’t seem to spot him in the dim lighting.
I feel someone grab me by the wrist, and my breath hitches as Zane spins me around, pushing me up against the brick wall, his lips finding mine as he kisses me soundly.
I’m really going to miss this place. Not Pride and Prejudice Park so much as this tiny walled garden. “Our garden,” as Zane referred to it in his terrible Darcy letter that I still need to get him back for.
Maybe someday Zane and I will get married, and we can build one of these in our backyard.
I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know what’s going to happen between us when we return home. It’s possible this whole romance we’ve been having could be driven by the setting and the allure of defying Lady Catherine’s absurd rules against romantic pursuits, and it will all go away once we put our regular Zane and Macey clothes back on.
It’s hard to think that’s possible when Zane kisses a trail down my neck and to my collarbone.
I can’t worry about all that. We’ll figure it out later. For now, I want to stay in this moment with Zane as his lips once again find mine and he kisses me thoroughly at Pride and Prejudice Park.