Chapter Twenty-Seven
I went to bed shortly after that, accompanied by the Fear triumphantly reminding me that I’d gotten myself trapped in a novel with no obvious way of getting out, Darcy had no idea who I was, plus I’d been a total bitch and undermined another woman in order to get a man’s attention.
It was the kind of behavior I loathed in fiction—and in real life—and I vowed that however desperate I was to get Darcy to remember me, I’d never tread on Elizabeth’s toes again.
At breakfast the following morning, I tried to apologize to Elizabeth, but it was almost impossible given that she had no idea she was a character in a book, and therefore had no understanding of how I could have “stolen” words she’d never said.
In the end, I mumbled an apology about joining her and Miss Bingley uninvited, and she gave a perfectly civil response.
Still, she remained cool with me for the rest of the day, and it was clear I’d pissed her off, even if she herself wasn’t sure why.
I spent most of that second day locked in my room, attempting to read myself back into my own world.
I tried reciting different scenes from the story, and I even borrowed a few books from Bingley’s library and tried reading those out loud while wishing myself back to Baskerville Books, but none of it worked.
My guess was that without Nick’s mum’s copy of Pride and Prejudice, I was stuck.
For the hundredth time, I cursed myself for ignoring Nick’s instructions and momentarily wishing I could visit Darcy here.
And for the thousandth time, I remembered the feel of Nick’s strong hand as he grabbed me and the way he’d cried my name, until I got so depressed that I told myself I had to stop thinking about him altogether.
Elizabeth and Jane departed after breakfast the following morning, leaving me alone with the Bingley party and Darcy.
I kept expecting to be thrown out myself, but for some reason none of them suggested I go, and my continued presence was tolerated, if not particularly welcomed.
I wondered if this was because I wasn’t part of Jane Austen’s plot, and therefore none of the characters knew what to do with me?
Whatever the reason, I was grateful to still have a roof over my head, and while Mr. Hurst and the Bingley sisters ignored me, Bingley himself was kind, if a bit baffled.
As for Darcy, he seemed completely oblivious to my presence.
Every time I saw him, I tried talking to him, dropping references about Nutella or RuPaul’s Drag Race in the hope of triggering a memory, but he kept his answers to a bare minimum and escaped my company as soon as was physically possible.
As the days passed, my hopes of him ever remembering me grew fainter and fainter. I was truly alone here.
On my fourth morning at Netherfield, I was sitting in the breakfast room, picking at a plate of bacon and eggs, while the other five discussed people and places I’d never heard of. Just as I was about to get up and leave, I heard something that made my ears prick up.
“I thought I might ride over to Longbourn today and inquire as to Miss Jane Bennet’s health,” Bingley said.
“I am sure she is quite well and does not need you fussing over her,” his sister tutted.
“I shall join you, for it is a fair day for a ride,” Darcy said to Bingley.
I did some quick calculations in my head.
If I was right, then this was the chapter where Elizabeth and her sisters walk into Meryton with Mr. Collins and first meet Mr. Wickham, and then Darcy and Bingley bump into them and there’s that little stand-off between Wickham and Darcy.
In which case, maybe I could go into Meryton and try to chat with Elizabeth again, because if Darcy was going to ignore me, then she was the only semi-friendly face I had here, and I desperately needed someone to talk to before I went completely mad with anxiety.
“May I join you?”
The group all turned to me in surprise, as if they’d forgotten I was there. I found this happened a lot.
“Of course,” Bingley said, giving me a small smile. “Do you ride?”
Oh, bugger, no, I very much did not ride. My dad had once taken me riding, aged eight, and the horse had decided to canter off and leave me on my backside on the ground, much to my painful embarrassment and my dad’s amusement. I’d sworn never to get on one again.
“Don’t worry, I’ll walk,” I said.
Bingley nodded politely, and the conversation continued around me as if I’d never spoken. Still, I was determined to go into Meryton, and after breakfast, I quizzed a servant on the best way to get there and then set off for the village.
Elizabeth Bennet was famously a fan of country walks, and Pride and Prejudice is littered with scenes of her jumping over stiles and springing through puddles with a glowing complexion and mud-covered skirts.
Unfortunately, as a born-and-bred Londoner, I was considerably less well suited to outdoor pursuits, and even though it was only two miles to Meryton, I was red-faced and sweaty by the time I got there.
The small town was pretty, although much less idyllic than screen adaptations would have you believe: voices of tradespeople yelled up and down the high street, the ground was muddy and rough underfoot, and there was a strong smell of manure (whether it was animal or human, I preferred not to think about).
I wandered up and down the high street for about half an hour before I saw a group of four women arrive at the far end, accompanied by a man in clergy clothing.
I recognized Elizabeth and Jane at once, and knew the younger ones must be Kitty and Lydia, the latter of whom looked very much like a fifteen-year-old girl.
God, Wickham really was a creep to elope with her.
Speak of the devil, two officers were walking past me in the direction of the Bennet sisters, one of whom must be Wickham and the other Denny, so I hurried to get ahead of them.
“Hello, Elizabeth, Jane,” I panted when I reached them.
Elizabeth smiled at me politely. “Miss Knight, how do you do?”
I was about to reply and ask if I could have a word with her in private when the two officers walked past on the far side of the street, and one of them—Wickham, I guess—bowed toward our group.
Lydia let out a squeal. “Who is he, for I am sure he is the most gentlemanlike fellow I ever saw?”
“Let us cross the street so that we may encounter them when they return and find out,” Kitty said, and the two girls set off at speed toward a milliners on the other side. I saw Elizabeth and Jane share a knowing look, and then they crossed too with Mr. Collins. I followed.
The younger girls stood in front of the shop window, pretending to admire the hats on display, until the two officers came back past.
“If it is not the charming Bennet sisters!” Denny said, bowing to the group.
“Denny, what a fancy seeing you here,” Lydia grinned.
“Ladies, may I be allowed to introduce my friend, Mr. Wickham, who has returned with me from town having accepted a commission in the corp. Wickham, this is Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Kitty Bennet, Miss Lydia Bennet, and…” His eyes stopped on me with curiosity.
“Miss Zoe Knight,” I said.
“And this is our cousin, Mr. Collins,” Jane added.
Collins let out a low, obsequious bow, but Wickham barely looked at him, his attention on Elizabeth.
I have to tell you, the book makes him sound like a ten, but the guy was kind of weird looking, with a thin face and eyes that were too close together.
Still, I suppose Jane Austen’s idea of a hunk was different from the men in contemporary romance novels.
The officers and the Bennet sisters began discussing the weather, making it impossible for me to talk to Elizabeth, so instead I focused my attention up the street. Sure enough, a minute later I saw two familiar figures on horseback riding toward us.
“Oh look, it is Bingley and his ghastly friend,” Lydia cried, and the group all turned as the two men rode toward us.
Bingley’s face lit up when he realized it was Jane, and Darcy’s eyes naturally sought out Elizabeth.
I waited for him to spot Wickham and scowl, but instead, I saw Darcy’s eyes flick away from Elizabeth and settle on me.
As they did, they went wide, and I saw something like recognition flash across his face.
Oh my God, was he finally remembering me?
“Zoe?” he muttered, and honestly, with that one word, I felt as if my feet had been lifted off the ground in relief.
And then I realized my feet actually had been lifted off the ground, as someone had grabbed my arm and was physically dragging me backward, away from the group.
I let out a yelp of surprise and tried to wriggle free, but whoever it was had a strong grip.
I turned to them in anger and saw it was a woman wearing a huge bonnet that obscured her face.
“Let go of me!” I shouted, but the woman continued to pull me into an alleyway between two shops.
“Darcy!” I hollered, but his attention had already moved away from me to Wickham, his face turning bright red at the sight of him.
My assailant had now managed to haul me into the alley, her hand tight on my wrist. Only when we were out of sight from the group did she release me and push her bonnet back to reveal her face. As she did, I let out a gasp.