Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” I said.
Miss Bingley gave me a supercilious sneer. “You have my brother to thank, not I, for he is the kind of softhearted fool who could never turn away a waif or stray.”
Unless I was mistaken, I think this comment may have been aimed as much at Elizabeth as me. I went to sit next to the Bennet sisters on the hardback sofa.
“Where are you from, Miss Knight?” This was Mrs. Hurst, who was wearing an absurd dress that made her look like a peacock.
I scrambled around for a suitable lie, but my brain had turned to jelly. “Kentish Town, in London.”
The Bingley sisters looked at each other as if I’d said I’d been born in a bog.
“And who are your family?”
“My mother’s dead, and the last I heard of my father, he was living in Australia.”
“Australia?” Miss Bingley said. “Is that in Scotland?”
“No, it’s the other side of the world,” I said. “New South Wales?”
At this, Mrs. Hurst let out a shriek. “My goodness, is your father a convict?”
“Not as far as I know, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
From the look on the sisters’ faces, it was clear this was all the confirmation they needed that I was as ill-bred and classless as they’d feared.
From that point onward, they totally ignored me, directing all their questions and condescension to Jane.
Elizabeth, who seemed to be equally ignored, gave me a sympathetic smile.
“I take it from your earlier attire that you like to read, Miss Knight?”
“Yes, it’s pretty much my favorite thing to do. I love romance novels in particular, but I’ll read anything, really. What about you?”
“I am also a lover of literature and enjoy romance novels greatly. I find they are frequently dismissed, especially by gentlemen, and yet in my experience, romance novels contain some of the greatest truths about human nature. Do you not agree, Miss Knight?”
Despite the knot of dread that had been in my stomach since the moment I woke up earlier, I couldn’t help but smile. “I couldn’t agree more, Miss Bennet.”
There was the sound of male voices behind us, and I spun toward the door to see a short, round man with a white-powdered face, who I assumed must have been Mr. Hurst. Behind him was a younger blond man whose eyes immediately glided over me and settled on Jane, his face breaking into a smile at the sight of her.
I strained to see the figure walking in behind him, and then Bingley moved toward Jane and a familiar face stepped into the room.
“Darcy!”
He stopped in the doorway when he saw me.
“It’s me! Something went wrong and I ended up here too.”
Darcy didn’t say anything, staring at me for a moment through narrowed eyes.
I waited for him to say something, but instead he strode past me and went to sit in a chair by the fire at the far side of the room.
What the actual fuck? It was one thing to not come up to check on me for twenty-four hours, but quite another to pretend he’d never even met me.
Unless he was still furious at me for lying to him?
Or maybe this was some kind of deliberate act in front of his friends so he wouldn’t have to explain the whole fictional time-travel thing to them?
I kept my eyes trained on him, waiting to see if he’d glance up and catch my eye, maybe give me a quick nod to let me know we’d chat later.
But having inquired as to Jane’s health, he opened a book and started to read.
I felt another flash of anger. He may well be keeping up appearances, but I’d be damned if I was going to sit here pretending everything was fine while my whole world came crashing down around my ears.
I stood up and marched across the room toward him, aware of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst’s disapproving eyes following me. I came to a stop in front of him.
“For goodness’ sake, Darcy, why are you ignoring me? Is this you punishing me for not telling you the truth in London?”
He didn’t even look up from the page. “I am sorry, madam, but you are working under a misapprehension if you believe that we are acquainted. I am certain I have never encountered you before.”
“It’s me, Zoe, you doof. I accidentally read myself back into the book with you, and now I’m stuck here too. It’s a disaster, and I need your help to get me home.”
He finally lifted his eyes to me, but they contained none of the warmth I’d grown used to. Instead, they were filled with contempt.
“I do not have any comprehension as to the meaning of your words.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You must remember me! What about Mrs. Atallah? Bath? Molly-Mae and Tommy from Love Island?”
I could hear the Bingley sisters sniggering behind me, but I kept my eyes fixed on Darcy, willing him to remember.
“I have no desire to converse any further, and respectfully ask that you leave me in peace to read.”
Darcy returned his attention to the book. I opened my mouth to berate him again, and then I remembered something Nick had told me, and my whole body went cold. Characters don’t retain any memories of their time in our world.
This wasn’t an act. Darcy clearly had no idea who I was.