Chapter Fourteen
I texted Bianca to tell her I’d taken her advice and Will had said he wanted to stay, and she replied with a series of smiley face, crying, and eggplant emojis.
She also repeated her suggestion that I bring him to the engagement party.
I was about to reply saying he was definitely busy on Friday, but then I paused.
Should I invite Darcy? On the one hand, it was an absurd idea: He was a Regency gentleman who talked like he’d swallowed a thesaurus and had some seriously outdated ideas.
But equally, if he really was going to stay here with me in my world, then I could hardly keep him locked away in my flat forever.
At some point, he was going to have to start venturing out and meeting people, and given how relaxed he’d been on the bus and in Camden on Sunday, he was clearly much more comfortable than when he’d first arrived.
So maybe a quick visit to Bianca’s party was a good opportunity to start exposing Darcy to a bit more of twenty-first-century London.
The bigger question was whether he would want to come.
After all, this was a man whose whole raison d’être in Pride and Prejudice was as the seemingly-proud-but-actually-shy-hater-of-dancing-and-small-talk guy.
But if he and I were going to stand any chance of having a real relationship outside the walls of my flat, I had to at least ask.
I waited until breakfast the following morning, when Darcy was eating a piece of toast covered in an inch-thick layer of Nutella.
“Darcy, I don’t suppose you fancy coming to my best friend’s engagement party on Friday evening, do you?”
He paused mid-mouthful. “What form will this party take? Will it be a salon or a ball?”
“I’d say it’s going to be more like something you’d see on Love Island, although people will be wearing more clothes.”
“Hmm…”
“It’s OK, honestly,” I said quickly. “You don’t have to come. I know you’re an introvert who hates parties.”
Darcy cocked his head to one side. “How are you cognizant of that, for I am certain I have never mentioned such a fact to you?”
Shit! “Oh…eh, I just guessed. You don’t strike me as the party type, that’s all.”
“You are correct in that assumption. I find little pleasure in dancing and shallow conversation. But I suppose I am curious as to what a contemporary party would be like, so if you wish me to attend, then I am willing to make an exception on this occasion.”
“Really? That’s brilliant!” I grinned and grabbed my phone to text Bianca.
It was all very well, Darcy agreeing to join me, but I soon realized there were still several obstacles to overcome.
For one, while it was easy enough to physically disguise him with some new clothes, the second he opened his mouth, people were going to work out something weird was going on.
Also, we had to establish an entire backstory for “Will” that wouldn’t give away the fact that he was actually one of the most famous fictional characters of all time.
Thankfully, Darcy seemed up for the challenge, and when I got home from work on Thursday evening, he was full of ideas.
“I have spent the day making a study of contemporary language,” he said when I walked through the door. “I am aware that my speech may appear antiquated, and to that end, Mrs. Atallah has been assisting me in modernizing my vocabulary.”
The thought of an eccentric seventy-six-year-old teaching Darcy how to speak was slightly terrifying, but I took off my shoes and sat down. “That’s great. Do you want to try out what you’ve learned on me now?”
He paused, looking self-conscious. “But I have only just commenced my studies.”
“Sure, but I can help too. Why don’t we start with something easy? How about you greet me and ask how I am.”
Darcy nodded, his brow furrowed adorably in concentration. And then he pulled back his shoulders and flashed me a grimace of a smile that showed all his teeth.
“All right, babe? How’s it going?” This was said in a terrible faux-Essex accent.
“Erm…good, thanks. How about you?”
“I’m vibing. Just been hanging with the lads, catching some rays.”
It was such an absurd statement, coming from a man dressed in a tailcoat and florid white cravat, that I snorted. Darcy’s face fell.
“Was I inadequate?”
“No!” I said, swallowing my laugh. “It’s just, I’m not sure anyone actually speaks like that.”
“But in Love Island—”
“Darcy, I don’t think the Love Island cast are the best role models for the English language.
Maybe it would be easier if you speak like you do now, only just make it a bit simpler?
” I suddenly remembered Mr. Bingley’s line in Pride and Prejudice about Darcy always looking for four-syllable words.
“Perhaps you could start by trying to use shorter words?”
“I can certainly endeav—try to do that.”
“There you go; you’re getting it already!”
His cheeks colored at the compliment. “I will rehearse this tomorrow with Mrs. Atallah, and I hope that by tomorrow night, I shall be the most exemplary—sorry, perfect date.”
I laughed, my heart swelling. “I’m sure you will be, Mr. Darcy.”
* * *
At eight the following evening, I stood in front of the mirror, surveying my reflection.
A few weeks ago, Bianca and I had gone shopping for outfits for tonight’s party, and she’d talked me into buying a completely ridiculous electric-blue bandeau dress.
I hadn’t even taken the price tag off, knowing full well that I was never going to have the confidence to wear it.
But tonight, I’d dug it out the bag and slipped the dress on.
It clung to my curves, its skirt skimming over my thighs and the color making my own blue eyes sparkle.
I’d washed and curled my hair earlier, and it hung over my shoulders in the kind of soft, beachy waves that I normally found impossible to create; the hair gods were clearly smiling on me tonight.
“Miss Knight? Are you ready?”
I heard Darcy’s voice outside the bedroom, so I did a quick final check in the mirror and then opened the door. As I did, my breath caught in my throat.
Darcy was wearing the dark jeans, crisp blue shirt, and trainers I’d bought for him today, but it wasn’t his clothes that left me speechless.
At some point this evening, he’d cut his hair into a much shorter, more modern style, and he’d shaved off his muttonchops, revealing smooth, angular cheekbones underneath.
“Wow, Mr. Darcy. It really suits you.”
“It was Mrs. Atallah’s work; she used to cut Mr. Atallah’s hair for him and still had the implements.”
“And how do the clothes feel?” I asked.
“Most satisfactory. There is much more freedom to move in them than my own attire.”
“Well, I think you look very handsome.”
“Thank you, Miss Knight. You have chosen these garments well. And may I be so bold as to compliment your dress, which is most becoming.”
I waited to see if he’d say anything else, but he stepped aside. “Should we depart?”
“Eh, yes… OK. Let’s go.”
I grabbed my bag and phone, trying to quash my feelings of disappointment that Darcy hadn’t been more effusive about the way I looked.
I’d prewarned him that we were going to take the Underground, as the party was in South London, and Darcy had watched some clips on YouTube to prepare himself, but I still saw fear flash across his face as we walked into the Tube station and made our way through the ticket barriers.
“Just follow my lead,” I whispered as we walked toward the escalator.
He paused for a second at the top, and I felt his whole body tense as he saw the moving staircase, but I gripped his arm tightly as we stepped on. He didn’t relax the whole way down, nor when we reached the platform and a train came roaring toward us.
“Have we descended into hell?” he muttered as the train doors slid open and we stepped inside.
It wasn’t too busy and we were able to find seats, which was just as well, as Darcy’s face had gone white and I was worried he might be about to pass out.
“Just focus on breathing in and out,” I said as the doors whooshed closed and we started to move.
My arm was still entwined with his, and I felt him squeeze it tightly as we hurtled into the tunnel.
The noise of the train on the rails was deafening, so all I could do was grip his hand and watch his face contort in agony as we whizzed southbound.
We changed trains at Euston onto the Victoria Line, which was crammed with people, so we had to stand.
I kept a tight hold on Darcy for the whole journey, trying to keep him calm by talking through the backstory we’d rehearsed.
“So your name is Will and you’re from Derbyshire, although you’ve spent most of your life living in a remote forest in rural Norway, which is why you’re so out of touch with cultural references,” I recited to him in a low voice.
“You inherited a fortune from your parents, so you don’t need to work. ”
“Yes, ten thousand pounds a year,” Darcy muttered, wincing as the train swerved around a bend and he was thrown sideways against the person standing next to him.
“No, way more than that!” I hissed. “Best not to talk figures at all. In fact, the less you can say about yourself, the better. Just leave me to do the talking.”
Finally, we reached Brixton station, and I hauled Darcy up the escalator and out onto the street. It was swarming with people, the air thick with the smell of traffic and noodles from the shop next door, but Darcy didn’t seem to notice, too busy gasping for air.
“I pray, never make me ride on that infernal contrivance again,” he panted as we set off in the direction of the bar.
“I won’t, I promise.” His face was still worryingly pale, and I kicked myself for bringing him along. Clearly, I’d overestimated how ready Mr. Darcy was for my world.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked when we reached the bar. “We won’t stay long, and if it gets too much at any point, then just say you’ve got a headache and I’ll take you straight back to mine by taxi.”
Darcy nodded but didn’t speak. I took a deep breath as I pushed the door open, and we stepped inside.
It wasn’t even nine yet, but the bar was packed.
While I was basically a recluse whose happy place was on my sofa with a book, Bianca was an extrovert who’d always known how to throw a great party.
The dance floor was already crowded with bodies, gorgeous waiting staff walked around serving platters of canapés and shots, and every table was packed with guests drinking cocktails and chatting over the thumping dance music.
I glanced at Darcy to see if he was having a panic attack at all the people and noise, but to my surprise, he was looking around the room with curiosity as opposed to terror.
“Zoe!” I heard my name being called, and a second later I was scooped up into a bear hug and swung around.
I grinned, squeezing Bianca’s fiancé back.
I was a huge fan of Steve, a six-foot-five Scot who was a total cinnamon roll guy.
He and Bianca had met seven years ago when Steve had spotted her across a sticky dance floor.
It had taken Bianca six months before she agreed to go on a date with him, four years before she took up his offer to move in together, and six before she finally accepted his marriage proposal.
He’d been her adoring lapdog the entire time.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Steve said as he released me. “I’ve spent the past hour refereeing between Bianca and her mum. Femi thinks there’s not enough canapés and has been threatening to go home and cook for everyone.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry, just give her a couple of gins and she’ll chill out.”
Steve turned to look at Darcy, who was standing stiffly next to me. “Hey, man, I’m Steve. You must be Will.”
He reached his hand out to shake Darcy’s, and I watched in horror as Darcy started to lower his head in a bow. Thankfully, he stopped himself just in time and shook Steve’s hand instead.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Steve. And congratulations on your impending nuptials.”
“Thanks! Bianca tells me you two met at Cake Expectations?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” I cut in before Darcy could speak. “Will came in as a customer and we got to chatting.”
“Nice! Tell me, Will, do you play rugby? Because you’ve definitely got the build of a prop.”
Had rugby even been invented in Darcy’s time? I glanced at him, but if he had no idea what Steve was talking about, his face gave nothing away.
“I am more of a cricket and fishing man.”
“Oh, I love a bit of salmon fishing,” Steve said. “I’ve not done much since I moved down here, but I used to go with my dad on the River Tay when I was a kid.”
“I, too, have been salmon fishing in Scotland,” Darcy said. “It is a most beautiful country.”
I realized I’d been holding my breath this entire time, but I let myself exhale slowly. Darcy was doing it—conversing like a normal human!
“Why don’t you come and meet some of the lads, Will?” Steve said. “Maybe we can even talk you into joining our rugby team.”
“It’s all right, I was going to introduce Will to—” I started, but Steve had already grabbed Darcy’s arm and was leading him over to a group of men sitting at one of the tables.
Shit! I’d been determined to keep him by my side all night so I could jump in if anyone asked any awkward questions, but I’d managed to lose him within the first three minutes.
I considered following him over, but before I could move, one of Bianca’s uncles turned around to greet me and I was trapped.
It was several minutes before I managed to extricate myself, by which point Darcy was sitting at the crowded table with Steve’s friends.
I watched closely, looking out for any signs of panic in Darcy’s eyes, but he appeared to be following the conversation, and at one point he said something and I saw the man sitting next to him laugh.
I felt a swell of pride. If Darcy could blend in at this party, then there were so many other fun things we could do together, like go for drinks with B and Steve or have Sunday lunch with her family.
Maybe Darcy and I really could be a normal, happy couple—albeit one who didn’t have much physical contact.
Reassured he was OK, I turned and made my way through the crowd toward the bar. There was a tight row of people with their backs to me being served, but finally the tall man standing in front of me turned around to move away from the bar. As he did, I took one look at his face and my heart stopped.
Oh fuck.