Chapter Seventeen
MACEY
A letter from Zane to Macey, Wednesday, September 18, 12:00 a.m.
My dearest Miss Bennet,
I feel it my duty to inform you that I have conducted a thorough investigation into the incident at the assembly. My findings? You were correct in your assessment: My backside is apparently irresistible. It’s a burden, but one I shall bear with great dignity (and perhaps reinforced breeches). Should the offender strike again tonight at the Netherfield ball, I trust you will defend my honor.
Yours, slightly more wary of assembly halls and probably ballrooms,
Mr. Darcy
“BEFORE WE EAT, I HAVE an announcement to make,” Mr. Bennet says, sitting at the head of the table, the rest of us gathered around.
We’re eating breakfast in the small dining area of Longbourn. It’s a cozy room with pale-yellow walls and a modest fireplace, currently lit to take the edge off the morning chill. The table is simply set, with mismatched china and a vase of wildflowers in the center. Plates of freshly baked bread, jars of marmalade, bowls of porridge, and a platter of cold-cut meats are laid out before us.
I spent last night alone in my room, as apparently staff members stay in their own quarters, whether they’re playing a main character or not. It’s not that I wanted a stranger sharing a room with me—as nice as the woman playing Jane seems to be—it’s that it was a reminder Monroe isn’t here and is instead lying in a hospital bed.
I could picture her here, sitting next to me on the bed, bubbling with excitement as I told her everything about sneaking out with Zane and almost getting caught. The whole thing was so impulsive, which has sort of always been his MO, even when we were younger—getting us to sneak off to the community pool at night after hours, or daring Amelia and me to race shopping carts around the parking lot of Safeway.
I can’t believe he remembered the letter and brought it up. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. Still, I felt a sort of relief as I went to bed last night, knowing it was no longer a secret between us. I just hope he never brings it up again.
It would have been nice to have someone to talk to about it, though. Kitty and Lydia, like their counterparts in the book, would only care if something salacious happened between us, and Mary, also like her character, keeps to herself. Normally I’d tell Amelia, but I never want her to find out about the letter; and besides, our leisurely pursuit time here is smack-dab in the middle of her workday.
“What is it, Papa?” Mary asks.
“Oh yes, Mr. Bennet, do not keep us waiting,” Mrs. Bennet says.
I love that we all stay in character, even when Lady Catherine isn’t around to make sure we’re doing it right. We have staff here to cook and clean for us, and obviously Jane works for the park, so there are people watching, but I doubt with the same vigilance as Lady Catherine.
“As it turns out, our dear Elizabeth”—he looks to me—“the first one, that is, has awakened and is in good health.”
“Oh,” I say, a hand going to my chest. The surge of relief that runs through me is so palpable, I actually tear up. Monroe is okay!
“That’s right wonderful to ’ear,” Kitty says, her cockney accent coming out.
Everyone at the table is thrilled by this news. It’s amazing that Monroe was only here for a day and yet made such an impact on everyone in such a short amount of time. It’s admirable.
“Will she be returning to us?” Jane asks, probably trying to figure out whether she’ll be going back to what she was doing before—whatever that was—or staying on as the character.
“As of now, no,” Mr. Bennet says, and a wave of disappointment seems to ripple through the room. Lydia slumps back in her chair, while Mary furrows her brow.
I’m disappointed she’s not coming back too, but the overwhelming relief that she’s okay far outweighs it. I feel I now can finally embrace the role of Elizabeth and enjoy this trip I won, without the guilt and worry hanging over me. I still feel bad that because of me, she had to cut her trip short. And I’d still give up being Elizabeth in a hot second if she were to return, though I’m sure she’d demand we both play the role.
After we eat, Lady Catherine arrives to give us our direction, in a large lavender-colored ensemble—lots of cleavage today—her gray wig decorated with feathers and butterflies, and some of the staff and other guests come with her to watch the next scene. I’m a bundle of nerves waiting for the reprimand regarding romantic pursuits and wondering if she somehow knows it was Zane and me. I’m not sure how she would—the men we saw last night don’t know us, and if they described what we were wearing, it would match the description of pretty much everyone on the property, given we are all in costume.
“Well,” she begins. “I trust you have all managed to compose yourselves adequately after last night’s ... amusements at the Meryton assembly? I must say, some of you were dangerously close to breaking character. I shan’t name names, but rest assured, I took note.”
We all look at each other then, Lydia and Kitty giving each other wide eyes, making me wonder what those two managed to get into. I did see Lydia leaving the assembly with a man. I wasn’t sure if it was a local or a staff member. But I’m guessing that if Lady Catherine saw, Lydia probably wouldn’t be here about to act out scenes with us today.
“We have a most important day ahead, and no time to squander,” Lady Catherine says. “Jane, you will be departing for Netherfield shortly—sans horse, I’m afraid.”
I’m sure Lady Catherine hates this change. It’s not canon, after all.
“After the luncheon, Elizabeth, you shall follow,” she goes on. “Upon your return, we will welcome Mr. Collins to Longbourn, and thereafter, make the acquaintance of Mr. Wickham. There will be a brief respite for dinner, after which you are to ready yourselves for the Netherfield ball. I demand your complete focus and utmost diligence to ensure everything proceeds flawlessly. There will be no room for idleness or errors.”
I nibble on my bottom lip, waiting for her next words. But my racing heart and sweaty palms are for naught because the words never come. Instead, she says, “Now, no time to waste! I expect precision and propriety at every turn.”
She claps her hands twice, and Mrs. Bennet begins the scene where Jane goes to Netherfield.
AN HOUR LATER, I’M WALKING to meet Jane—who is now taken ill and stuck at Netherfield, the poor thing—in a simple cream gown and a shawl wrapped around me, despite the sun shining brightly overhead and the comfortable temperatures. But we must stick with the script, of course. And in the book, it is a cold and rainy day. I guess we’ll have to pretend my petticoats are covered with mud when I arrive. I’m honestly surprised Lady Catherine didn’t make me change into a costume covered in mud. How very noncanonical of her.
As soon as I arrive, Lady Catherine is there to give me instruction, and my heart palpitates as I wait once more for her to say something about last night. She doesn’t, though. She sends me to see Jane first, who’s playing sick in one of the rooms upstairs, before instructing me to go back down to act out the scene with Bingley, Caroline, and Darcy.
After visiting Jane—who does a fantastic job of acting under the weather while a small gathering of onlookers watches us do the scene—I feel butterflies in my stomach as I make my way to the drawing room, excited to see Zane. I’m also sort of nervous for some reason, which is stupid. Regardless, the fluttering multiplies when I see him, standing by the window, his back to me. And yes, I can verify, his butt does look good in the breeches.
You are ridiculous. You are silly. Jane Austen would be appalled.
I take a seat on the chair near the hearth with a book in my hands, as previously instructed by Lady Catherine.
Zane turns then, finding me there, his lips pulling up into a smile, one that’s filled with the memories of secret meetups and nearly getting caught, and I give him one back. We quickly drop them, though, when Lady Catherine takes her seat in the corner, near the people who have gathered to watch this scene, and she clears her throat, indicating it’s time to begin.
“Miss Eliza Bennet, how admirable of you to walk all this way in such inclement weather. Surely you must have quite the constitution to endure such trials,” Caroline Bingley begins the scene, giving me a haughty look. Though it’s supposed to be acting, it doesn’t feel like much of a stretch for her—it’s how she’s looked at me since she arrived, as if she were born to play the part.
“Why, thank you, Miss Bingley,” I say, returning the arrogance with a cool, measured half smile. “I suppose one might call it determination—or perhaps mere stubbornness. Either way, I would not have stayed away while my sister needed me.”
“Indeed,” she says. “Though I must wonder: Had you considered the impropriety of arriving in such a state? One would hate for others to form the wrong impression.”
“Oh, I am quite accustomed to forming wrong impressions of others, so I would not begrudge them doing the same about me.”
Caroline turns away in a huff, and then Zane looks at me, and I will myself not to smile at him.
"It seems, Miss Bennet, that you take pride in your defiance of expectation,” he says, a faux -serious look on his face.
Yeah, he’s very sexy as Darcy. It’s something about the deep-burgundy jacket he’s wearing, or the way he’s staying in character. Whatever it is, it’s got my insides all twisty.
I clear my throat, trying to bring myself back. “Mr. Darcy, are you defending me?” I ask. “How unexpected. I thought you believed all women ought to adhere strictly to propriety.”
“I believe in the value of principle, Miss Bennet. But loyalty is no less a virtue, even if its expression sometimes defies convention,” he says, his eyes boring into mine.
“How magnanimous of you to make such allowances, sir. I shall have to inform my mother; she will be most delighted to know I have earned even the smallest of your approvals.”
I love the banter in this scene. And as the script says, the corner of Zane’s mouth twitches, as if he’s suppressing a smile. I don’t know why I continue to be surprised by how seriously he’s taking this. But that’s Zane—the kind of person who once stayed up all night helping me finish a school project I’d procrastinated on, just because he said he’d help. A man of his word.
“Miss Bennet, you must forgive Mr. Darcy. He hasn’t always been so very ... charitable in his judgments,” Caroline says.
“Ah, charity. That must be what inspires such glowing praise for me. How fortunate I am,” I say, giving her my most sarcastic smile.
Bingley walks in the room, a bright and happy look on his face. “Miss Bennet! I trust Jane is feeling a little better now?”
“Yes, Mr. Bingley. Thank you for your kindness. She is resting comfortably, though I expect she will need another day or two of quiet.”
“Whatever she needs, Miss Bennet, we are at her disposal.”
With a nod of thanks and a quick line about going to check on her, I leave the room, as per the script. But not in the script is the quick glance I throw over my shoulder at Zane, whose lips are pulled up on one side, his eyes warm and intent as he watches me leave. My cheeks heat of their own accord, and I’m glad I’m leaving so he can’t see them.
As I make my way back to Longbourn, I’m feeling like everything is coming together, that I’ve got Zane back as my friend, and who knows what might come of that, and this trip is finally turning into what I’d hoped it would be.
Next, I’ll do scenes with Mr. Collins and Wickham, and after that is the Netherfield ball. This time not only do I interact with Zane, but we will dance. And even with the risk of getting my toes stepped on, I can’t wait.