Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Who are you, and how the shitting hell did you get here?” the woman said, in what was definitely not Jane Austen’s English.
I didn’t answer, staring at her in shock. What was the redheaded woman from the photo on Nick’s desk doing here? Because it was definitely her, slightly older and less dewy faced in the flesh, but undoubtedly the same fiery red hair and bright-blue eyes. Those eyes were staring urgently at me now.
“Tell me, how did you get here? Because I know you’re not from the story.”
I swallowed. “I’m Zoe and I read myself in by accident. How did you get here? I’ve seen your photo before, at Baskerville Books.”
At this, the woman’s face went pale. “Baskerville Books is still going?”
“It is, and I know you’re the woman who broke the owner’s heart.”
She staggered as if I’d hit her. “You know my Nick?”
I’ll be honest with you, this pissed me off. I know I might sound petty, but I suspected this was the woman who’d so devastatingly hurt Nick that he’d turned into a romance-novel-loathing cynic, and yet she had the audacity to call him hers.
“I do know him, actually,” I said as I crossed my arms, which was easier said than done in my silly, restrictive dress.
“How is he?”
I was going to tell her it was none of her business, but she was looking at me so imploringly that I couldn’t bring myself to be rude.
“Nick’s OK,” I said, remembering the way he’d clung to my hand like he was Kate Winslet on the floating door in Titanic and I was Leonardo diCaprio sinking into the sea. I shook my head to dislodge the image. “Who are you, anyway? Were the two of you a couple?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “No! I’m Maggie, his mum.”
Now I was the one to stagger. “But…you’re dead!”
As I said this, I thought back to my conversations with Nick about his mum. I remember him saying she was no longer around and that he’d lost her eight years ago, but now that I came to think of it, I wasn’t sure he’d ever actually said she’d died—that was just the conclusion I’d jumped to.
“You’re not dead!” I said, so loudly that Maggie signaled me to keep my voice down. “But what happened? Did you get stuck here too?”
She nodded. “Yes and I’ve never been able to get out. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here; time works weirdly in this place, it’s circular. What year is it in our world?”
“2026.”
Her face fell. “My God, it’s been eight years.”
“But how did you get trapped here? Nick told me you were really experienced at reading characters in and out of books. He said you’d done it hundreds of times.”
“I had, but I allowed my heart to get involved, and one day I made a stupid mistake.”
Her heart? Did that mean… “Oh crap, were you in love with Darcy too?”
She looked at me sharply. “Darcy? God, no!”
“Bingley, then?”
“No!”
Ew, did that mean she was a Mr. Wickham fan? Well, I supposed there was no accounting for taste.
Maggie tilted up her chin. “I fell in love with Elizabeth, actually.”
Ah, now that made more sense than Wickham.
“So, what happened?” I asked.
Maggie sighed. “I was having a bit of a tough time: Nick had just moved to New York for his master’s and I’d broken up with the man I’d been seeing, so initially I read Elizabeth out because I needed her wisdom about what to do with my life.
But the more time we spent together, the more my feelings grew.
I don’t know how much Nick told you, but fictional characters retain no memories of our world when they return to a book, so as far as Elizabeth was concerned, each time we met was the first. But I came to crave her company, and I broke all my family’s rules around book magic in order to spend time with her.
And then one day, when I was reading her back in, I made the mistake of wishing I could stay with Elizabeth, and here I am. ”
“Bloody hell! And does Nick know where you are?” I asked, because that would definitely explain why the man hated Pride and Prejudice so much.
“I don’t think so,” Maggie said. “I’d never told him what I was doing with Elizabeth, so my guess is he must know something went wrong and I got stuck in a book, but not which one.”
My God, the poor guy! No wonder he’d looked so heartbroken when he told me that romance novels could destroy people’s lives. How I wished I could escape this novel and tell Nick I was sorry I’d misjudged him so badly.
“Do you and Elizabeth have a relationship in here?” I asked.
“No, she has no idea who I am. As I said, she has no memory of visiting me in our world, and given I’m not part of Jane Austen’s plot, she barely even notices me here.”
“But Darcy—”
“Darcy just recognized you?” Maggie said sharply. “I know, I saw. So you have a lot of explaining to do, starting with how on earth you ended up here.”
“I told you, I read myself in by accident,” I said.
“But how did you read yourself in? I had no idea anyone apart from my family could do it.”
“I honestly don’t know. Nick thinks I might somehow have the same magic abilities as you, but personally I think it has something to do with your old copy of Pride and Prejudice.
” I paused as a thought occurred to me. “Shit, maybe you being stuck inside the book is what gave your old copy of Pride and Prejudice magic powers? And then when I found it in Baskerville Books and read it, I summoned Mr. Darcy out because of your magic?”
“So Darcy was in London with you?” Maggie said. “For how long?”
“Ten days.”
“What?” Now Maggie was the one shouting. “But that’s… How did he not disappear? How does this story even still exist?”
“He started to disappear, which is why I rushed to read him in and got it wrong. But at least I got him back and the book is fine.”
“But is it?” Maggie had started to pace up and down the alley.
“Darcy clearly recognized you just now, given he used your first name, which means he must have somehow carried some memory of the real world in here with him. What if his being in our world for so long has damaged him, and now that he’s back here, he’ll damage the fabric of the story too? ”
Her voice was thick with anxiety, and I felt my heart rate start to climb. “The story seems fine to me. Look, everyone’s here in Meryton like they’re supposed to be—nothing has changed.”
But as I said this, I remembered what had happened at Netherfield a few nights ago, and how that scene had ended abruptly after I stole Elizabeth’s lines.
“What?” Maggie said. “Why do you look like you just remembered you left the stove on?”
“Nothing. It’s just… The night I first arrived here, I tried to insert myself into the scene where Elizabeth and Darcy talk about his pride. I said a couple of Elizabeth’s lines to try and make Darcy notice and remember that he knew me, but then the conversation ground to a halt early.”
“You did what?” Maggie gasped. “Zoe, you being here is enough of an issue in itself, let alone interfering with the story. But that might explain why Darcy didn’t pay enough attention to Elizabeth just now.
Shit, what if everything’s messed up and he doesn’t fall in love with her like he’s supposed to? ”
“Of course he will. It was only one little scene I affected.”
“Yes, but Jane Austen builds their relationship so carefully, each interaction designed to push their feelings for each other one way or another in a delicate weave. But if you’ve interfered with that, then things might not develop as they’re supposed to, and the threads of the story could unravel. ”
“And then what will happen?”
Maggie stopped and looked at me, wide-eyed.
“I honestly have no idea, but I don’t want to find out.
You have to be so careful from now on, Zoe.
Keep away from everyone, especially Darcy.
He clearly feels some connection to you, so you need to make sure he doesn’t remember anything else about your time together. ”
“Can I come and stay with you so I don’t risk running into him again?”
Maggie shook her head. “No, for the time being you have to stay near the location where you arrived in the story, which in your case is Netherfield. I once tried to travel to London because I was bored and curious to see what Wickham and Lydia’s wedding was like, and then Lydia nearly missed the ceremony.
Thankfully, she made it just in time and the plot wasn’t affected, but I realized I couldn’t go wandering around the story without damaging it.
Now I don’t stray further than a few miles from Longbourn, and I avoid the main characters if I can help it. ”
“So should I just stay hidden in my room at Netherfield, then?” I asked.
“It’s safest for now. Let’s meet in a few days to catch up, but in the meantime, don’t talk to anyone, and definitely don’t let Darcy see you. And then we just have to hope that the plot stays on track; otherwise, goodness knows what will happen to Pride and Prejudice, and to us.”