Chapter Thirteen
Darcy was already in the bathroom when I got home that evening, whistling to himself as he took a shower.
I kicked off my shoes, then paced the living room while I waited for him to emerge.
Should I do what Bianca had suggested and tell him I wanted him to stay?
She’d made it sound so simple, but my best friend only knew half the story.
Would her advice have been the same if she knew that Will was actually Fitzwilliam Darcy and I’d somehow summoned him out of a stolen magic book, or that I was lying to him about who he was and where he’d come from?
Of course not: Bianca would insist that I had to tell Darcy the whole truth and let him make his own decision once he had all the information.
But if I told him who he really was, then Darcy would know I’d lied to him from the moment we met—and what was it he said in Pride and Prejudice?
“My good opinion once lost is lost forever.” No, however much I wanted to be truthful with Darcy, I couldn’t risk losing his trust—not now that I’d realized how much I wanted him to stay.
I heard the bathroom door creak open, and Darcy stepped out.
He obviously hadn’t realized I was back, as he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his chest bare.
I held my breath, waiting to feel a wave of lust at the sight of a semi-naked Mr. Darcy, but there was nothing.
Damn it, what was wrong with me? Maybe it had been so long since I’d been around a real-life man that my sex drive had shriveled up and died.
“Miss Knight!” Darcy said, his hands springing up defensively over his nipples. “I apologize, I had believed myself to be alone.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t look,” I said, turning away from him.
I heard the sound of his towel dropping to the ground and Darcy fumbling for something to wear. A minute later, he gave an embarrassed cough.
“Did you have a pleasant evening with your acquaintance? Shall I make us a hot chocolate?”
“It was good, thanks, and I’m fine.”
I turned back around, and then I stopped, smiling.
He was wearing a pair of what I assumed must be Charbel’s old pajamas, and although it wasn’t exactly screaming “sexy romantic hero,” there was something so adorable about seeing Mr. Darcy in striped flannel pajamas that my heart lifted.
Maybe he didn’t make my pulse race and my insides melt, but around him I felt safe and heard, and he made me grin from ear to ear.
And in the long run, wasn’t that more important than lust?
Bianca’s words from earlier echoed in my head: Isn’t he worth fighting for? Tell him how you feel about him; tell him you want him to stay. She was right, of course. Darcy was worth fighting for, and even if I couldn’t tell him who he really was, I could at least tell him how much I needed him.
I took a deep breath. “Mr. Darcy, can we have a chat?”
“Of course.” He went to sit on the end of the sofa bed, but I stayed standing.
“OK, so you know that I’ve spent the past week trying to work out how to get you home,” I said.
“I do, and I am most grateful for your persistence.”
“Well, the thing is, I think I’ve reached a bit of a dead end. I feel like I’ve trawled every corner of the internet and I can’t find anything, and no one I’ve spoken to has any ideas either.”
Nick Baskerville might be able to help if you’d just be honest with him! the Fear shrieked, but I pushed it aside.
“I believe I can anticipate what you are about to say,” Darcy said. “For reasons of propriety and practicality, you think my staying here any longer is out of the question. And I understand completely. You have been most generous with your hospitality but—”
“No, Darcy, that’s not what I’m saying,” I interrupted. “What I wanted to say is…”
What are you doing? The Fear reappeared on my shoulder, cackling like a pantomime villain.
Of course Darcy doesn’t want to stay here with you.
Why would he when he has Elizabeth Bennet waiting for him at home?
I paused, my hands starting to tremble, and then I remembered something else Bianca had said earlier.
“Maybe he feels exactly the same way you do, but he just isn’t sure what you want?
” I took a deep breath and drop-kicked the Fear under the sofa.
“Darcy, I know this past week has been weird for you, and it’s been weird for me, too, but it’s also been one of the most wonderful weeks of my life.
After my mum’s death and then my shitty relationship with Crispin, I’d given up on love and writing—given up on everything, really.
But this week I feel like I’ve come alive again.
Not only am I writing in my diary every day, but I literally run home from work, knowing that you’re here waiting for me with a bottle of wine and whatever overambitious recipe you want us to make.
I’ve loved it, Darcy, and I’d like us to… ”
I trailed off as I saw the expression on his face—a wide-eyed mixture of surprise and horror.
“Miss Knight,” he said, pushing himself up from the sofa. He paused, looking around wildly as if trying to find an escape route; then his eyes settled on the bathroom door and he took a lurching step toward it.
“Excuse me, I must…” He didn’t finish the sentence, diving into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
I sank down on the sofa, my entire body cringing with humiliation.
Of course Darcy didn’t feel the same way about me or want to stay.
This was a man who’d already started falling in love with Elizabeth Bennet, one of the most incredible female characters in all fiction.
He was clearly destined to be with her, so how could I have been stupid enough to think he’d ever develop feelings for me?
And now I’d embarrassed us both, and he’d be desperate to move out and get the hell away from me, and I’d lose him completely.
After a few minutes, I heard the bathroom lock draw back and the door click open. I didn’t turn to look, keeping my eyes fixed on my threadbare rug as Darcy walked across the room and paused a few feet away.
“Miss Knight,” he said, his voice gruff. “I apologize for my abrupt behavior. Your words took me by surprise, and I required a moment alone to collect my thoughts.”
“It’s OK, you don’t have to explain. Let’s forget I said anything and just go to bed.”
I began to stand up when I heard him cough.
“Please, Miss Knight. You have been honest with me; now allow me to speak honestly with you.”
Not fully honest, you coward, a familiar voice stage-whispered, but I sat back down.
Darcy took a deep breath before he spoke again.
“As I am sure you must appreciate, I have been plagued by worries since my unforeseen arrival here, and there is much that vexes me about my current situation. Yet despite the very many reasons for which I should yearn to return to my own world forthwith, I have found myself most discombobulated by thoughts to the contrary. It was those reflections that obliged me to pause on Sunday when you inquired if I wished to return home. And it was those same reflections that compelled me, but a moment ago, to hasten to the bathroom in no small alarm.”
I sometimes struggled to understand what Darcy was saying, given his florid language, but this speech was totally beyond my powers of comprehension. What on earth was he talking about?
“And thus, I find myself in a conflicted position,” he continued.
“On the one hand, I wish for nothing more than to return to my own era. And yet, were you to tell me that you had found the means for me to depart, and that I must bid you farewell at this very moment, I believe I should feel quite bereft.”
I felt the air leave my lungs. I looked up at him, wondering if I’d misunderstood, but he was staring down at me with his chocolate-brown eyes—eyes that were now full of warmth and affection.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“I believe I am, Miss Knight. We may have known each other for only six days, but I find that I am most enchanted by you.”
“Oh, Darcy,” I said, jumping to my feet. “You have no idea how happy that makes me!”
“Your pleasure exponentially increases my own.”
He smiled at me tenderly, and I tried to revel in this incredible moment.
Because although “I am most enchanted by you” wasn’t quite as passionate as “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” it was still the single most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me.
And so I ignored the Fear, who was cartwheeling across the floor, telling me that I was being insane, the challenges of keeping Mr. Darcy a secret in London were going to be insurmountable, and if he knew the secret I was keeping, then he’d want nothing to do with me.
Because right now, all that mattered was that Mr. Darcy wanted to be with me, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin that.