Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Health,good humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear.”
FITZ
“I JUST WANT TO BE Monroe. I just want to be Monroe. I just want to be Monroe,” Monroe cried in her sleep in a spot-on British accent.
Startled that she’d spoken, I jumped up from my chair, only to sit on the bed and take her gorgeous face in my hands. “Monroe.”
“I don’t want to be loved despite who I am. I want to be loved for who I am,” she mumbled, still speaking in an accent that wasn’t hers. Had her fall caused one of those rare conditions that made people speak in a different accent?
“Monroe, I love you. Please wake up.”
Her eyes flew open. She looked positively bewildered. I feared she didn’t recognize me.
“Mr. Darcy, you love me?” She reached up with her hand connected to the IV and skimmed my cheeks with her fingers. “Your cheeks are stubbly.” She blinked, obviously confused, and tore her hand away. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m not wearing gloves. But you just kissed me with your tongue.” She rubbed her head.
She was making no sense, yet I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Monroe.” I took her hand. “Do you remember falling off the horse?”
Monroe thought for a moment, looking at her hand with the IV and then touching the cannula in her nose. “I’m back,” she cried. “Wait. Where am I?” Her American accent suddenly returned.
Before I could answer, Dr. Taylor rushed in with two nurses—nurses who may get fired if I found they were guilty of letting Tony in here, but I would deal with that later. All I cared about now was that Monroe was awake and talking, even if she seemed confused.
The doctor and nurses moved me out of the way to examine her. I stood and moved to the end of the bed, refusing to take my eyes off her.
Her eyes darted between me and the medical personnel.
“Ms. Wilde, I’m Dr. Taylor. You gave us quite a scare. You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours now.”
“Twelve hours? That’s all? You mean it was all a dream?”
“What was all a dream?” Dr. Taylor asked calmly while the nurses checked Monroe’s vitals.
She shook her head, her cheeks turning red. “Nothing.”
“Do you remember falling off the horse?” Dr. Taylor asked.
“Yes,” she croaked. “My throat is dry. Can I get something to drink? Like clean water with ice? Lots of ice,” she said as if she’d been missing it.
Clean water? Why would she specify clean ? I wondered.
“Of course.” Dr. Taylor chuckled.
One of the nurses darted off to get Monroe something to drink while the doctor continued to examine her. He had her squeeze his hand and tell him her name and date of birth. Dr. Taylor even had her recite the alphabet and count to one hundred, after she had something to drink, of course. Her mind and motor skills seemed to be in working order, though she still looked dazed.
When Dr. Taylor finished examining her, he pronounced, “You are a medical miracle, Ms. Wilde. With that said, I think it best if we run some additional tests later this morning and keep you here for a few more days for observation. I’m going to keep the catheter and IV in for now. I don’t want you to get up unsupervised, so we’ll have some food brought in for you. What would you like?”
“Anything,” she replied.
It surprised me she hadn’t balked at staying in the hospital. I thought for sure she’d want to get back to that blasted park so she could continue to live out her Pride and Prejudice fantasies.
Dr. Taylor stood. “Very good. I’ll be back soon to check on you. If you need anything, press the nurse’s button.”
Monroe nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re a lucky woman.” The doctor walked off, shaking his head and muttering, “Never seen anything like this.”
As soon as Monroe and I were alone, I took up a chair at her bedside, immediately taking her hand. “How do you feel?”
“Fitz,” she breathed out. “I had the strangest ... dream, I guess, but it seemed so real. I didn’t know if I would ever wake up ... or make it back to reality. For a while, I thought I’d died or maybe gone to Fantasy Island . You know that old show I made you watch with me once when you came to visit me?”
“I remember.” I caressed her hand, trying to calm her. She seemed upset.
“It seemed like I was gone for at least a few weeks. I can’t believe it’s only early Wednesday morning.”
I wanted to tell her how sorry I was and how I’d never been more frightened in my life, but she seemed to need to recount her time asleep.
“I know this sounds crazy, but I was in the actual Pride and Prejudice story as Elizabeth. And you were there, playing Mr. Darcy, but you were different. At first you left me because I said words like sexy and you accused me of talking about basket weaving.”
“Basket weaving?” I laughed.
“You know, the euphemism for sex?” She grinned.
“I understand,” I assured her, wishing we could talk more about basket weaving. Maybe later.
“Yeah, well, Mr. Darcy didn’t like it, or at least I don’t think he did, but then he asked me to dance at the Meryton assembly. Of course, I had to say yes, but I messed up the entire story, even though I tried really hard to be the best Elizabeth and not try to fix things.” She became more and more upset.
“Darling, it’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. Or at least it wasn’t. I was able to actually help everyone. Because of me, Bingley never left Jane. And I helped Mary play and sing better, which made Mr. Collins fall for her. Did you know Mr. Collins can sing?”
“Did you turn Pride and Prejudice into a musical?” I teased her.
“Sort of. It was more like a wacky rom-com. The Without Pride and Prejudice version—you know, since I knew how the story went, but that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” I was more than curious.
“The point is that I became the best Elizabeth ever. Lydia didn’t even fall for Mr. Wickham, although I think Caroline Bingley might have.” She smiled. “Maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part since Caroline looked and acted like Winnifred,” she grumbled her name. “She even tried to turn Mr. Darcy against me, but he gave me a kitten instead, who I named Duke, after you.”
“I’m honored.” I grinned.
“But Fitz,” her voice cracked. “It didn’t matter, because even though everyone got a happy ending because of me, Mr. Darcy didn’t really want me. He said he loved me despite my meddlesome ways, which was just to say that he didn’t like how I tried to fix everything, even though in my dream I could actually make things better. I should have known I was dreaming. He didn’t love me for me,” she said, more to herself.
I shifted uncomfortably, clinging to her for dear life. I knew where this was going and that it was time for me to face the music of my own making.
“Regardless, I still wasn’t enough. Mr. Darcy was just like you. You want me in spite of who I am; you want me to change. I don’t want to be loved like that, especially by you. I realized I just want to be Monroe.” A single tear fell down her smooth cheek. “I know I’m not perfect, but why can’t anyone just love me for me?”
Her question was clear: Why couldn’t I love her for who she is, without conditions? I drew her hand up and kissed it. “Monroe, it was just a dream. You matter more to me than anyone or anything. I love you. All of you,” I begged her to believe me.
She shook her head. “You withheld your heart from me all this time because I embarrass you. You, my person. How am I going to live without you?”
“Monroe, you don’t have to.” I sat on the bed and took her into my arms, wires and all. The thought of being without her withered me inside.
She fell against me and sobbed. “I kept thinking in the dream that if I couldn’t have you, maybe I could have the next best thing—a Mr. Darcy who looks like you. But it didn’t work. He spoke Darcy just as well as you do. And even though I made a pretty good Elizabeth, it wasn’t enough.”
“He sounds like a prideful arse, just like me.”
“He totally was.”
“Monroe.” I tilted her chin enough to gaze into her watery eyes, full of heartache. I still saw my future inside of them. I wanted that future more than anything, and to ease her pain. “The reason Pride and Prejudice is so beloved is because it’s a story of redemption. Please, Monroe, give me the chance to redeem myself. For these past several hours, when I didn’t know if you would ever wake up, it was a torture like I had never known. You are my life, the best part of me. Please, let me try to deserve you,” I pleaded.
She fell back against me and clung to me, but she refused to say if she’d give me that chance. I couldn’t fault her for that. The damage I’d caused was undeniable, and I knew words alone wouldn’t suffice to mend it.
I stroked her hair until she fell asleep on my chest, but there was no sleep for me. All I wanted to do was hold her for the rest of my life. I lay awake thinking of how to prove myself to Monroe. How does a Mr. Darcy redeem himself?