First Impressions: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Adaptation

Chapter 22

"But I don't want to go to dinner with Lady Catherine or Fitzwilliam Darcy or Bill Collins," Liz would have said if it hadn't sounded so much like whining. "I don't want to sit and talk to a single one of them for more than five minutes at a time!" she would have said if she didn't think it would pain Charlotte or get her in trouble.

Instead, she made do with deep sighs and long eye-rolls, until Charlotte promised, cross-her-heart, that it would be a short evening. "All we have to do is sit at the table, eat whatever fancy dinner Lady Catherine is serving us, and nod along through coffee. When her back is turned, we can sneak away and watch whatever trashy movie they're showing on late-night TV tonight."

Rather than being soothed with time, Mariah seemed to grow more and more flustered with each invitation to Lady Catherine's. She was entirely silent as they approached the apartment, despite both Charlotte and Liz whispering encouragements to her and patting her shoulders gently. It was hopeless; she answered with nothing but a few barely comprehensible squeaks when they were let through the front door. Danielle, Lady Catherine's maid who had returned from her holiday, shared a rueful smile with Charlotte. Charlotte nodded in return and put her hand back on Mariah's shoulder, guiding her towards the living room.

Liz, for her part, found she was just as equal to the match of Lady Catherine's grandeur, stuffiness, and pompousness as she had been at their first invitation. Even if she did feel she was gearing up for battle every time she heard the woman's name.

Or set her eyes on Darcy.

He was there too, of course—he was everywhere she looked, it seemed—standing very straight but tucked up in the corner. Even half hiding, he was hard to miss, both due to his height and the way he seemed to drain the color out of the room around him. Between his black hair and jacket, he was like a tall, skinny black hole surrounded by pink floral looming in the corner. He wasn't wearing a tie; his white shirt was perhaps not as crisp as usual and it was unbuttoned one lower than was usual as well. There was a small shadow at the base of his throat where the skin curved inward.

"I'm so glad you could come," Lady Catherine said in her usual, condescending manner. As if they had begged to come. Liz turned her back on Darcy with some relief. Besides the nephew and the aunt, the only one around was Bill. He radiated the same frenetic energy he always did in the woman's presence. If he wasn't trying to act so dignified, Liz was certain he would have bounced on his toes. As it was, he still swooped around Lady Catherine any time she spoke, waiting for even the hint of an order.

"Of course," Charlotte said, her voice peppy and saccharine sweet. "We were honored to receive the invitation." She was still guiding Mariah with one hand and she eased the girl into a chair.

Liz glanced around the room once more before asking, "Where is Anne? And Robert?" She had hoped she somehow missed them, but no, there was still only Darcy. Liz plopped down onto the couch cushion furthest from where he was looming.

"They're coming, they're coming," Lady Catherine murmured dismissively.

Another sentence Liz didn't say for Charlotte's sake: "But they're the only reason I came!"

She was slightly distracted when Darcy appeared as if he were going to sit next to her; he stared very hard at the empty side of the couch. One of his feet moved to take a step. Liz clenched one fist where her hand was hidden by her thigh and willed her expression to remain blank.

Darcy paused. He moved his foot back. Then he sat in a chair by the window. Liz relaxed her fingers. She could hear a clock ticking on the other side of the room. She dragged her toe against the floorboards in time with the rhythm. There was a faint sound of movement coming from the kitchen and a slightly stronger smell. It was garlic and herbs—thyme, rosemary, sage—and butter. She willed her stomach not to grumble as she continued fidgeting.