First Impressions: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Adaptation

Chapter 28.1

Darcy wanted to go home. Rather desperately. He felt drained. Empty. Deflated. There were a hundred synonyms for his feelings but not a single one was adequate to describe the physical sense of the emotion.

Never before had he bared so much all at once. Pieces and parts to different audiences and friends, just the bites of information that they needed to know. But all of it at once, all of it to one person? Never.

He had spent the last four days vacillating between misery and burning anger—both general and specific. He knew he was a trial to his cousins. Even Aunt Catherine was sick of him. He spent half of his time avoiding Robert's gaze and the other half skulking around. Outside, when the weather permitted, though his fingers were beginning to feel permanently stiff from the cold. He avoided the park path around the back of the grounds, keeping to the public sidewalks when he could. The path was too reminiscent of her.

When it was too cold and snowy, or when it began to grow dark, he came back inside only to hide in the rec room. He pulled books from the shelves and failed to read them, or brought his notebook and struggled to string more than five words together at a time.

He couldn't spend all of his time on his own, though. All the time he spent in the apartment was used in waiting anxiously for Robert's phone to ring, or for a call to come for him through the landline, waiting for Elizabeth to check his story. He dreaded meeting Robert's eyes after that, or hearing the particulars listed out in his cousin's voice.

Much better to stay away. Even if the thought of her calling while he was away was killing him—would Robert even tell him, or would he keep it secret to spare Darcy the heartache, little knowing that any action, or inaction, was already destroying his peace of mind.

Darcy very much wanted to go home.

He looked forward in earnest to Friday, when he and Robert would pack up and return to the city for a few days. Once Robert was on his flight back to London, Darcy could escape to the solitude of Pemberley. As much as he missed Georgie during the semester, he could not bear the thought of being alone with her just then. She would pity him and sympathize and try to make it better when she should not be the one worrying—he was at fault for revealing her personal secrets in the first place.

He wasn't hiding exactly; his excuse was trying to write. He even brought his notebook with him! In actuality, he had not even tried to write, falling back instead to wandering the halls somewhat morosely, purposefully working to avoid his relatives when a voice called out to him. "Darcy! Hey, Darcy! I need to talk to you."

His heart seized in his chest. What did Elizabeth say? He paused for a long second before turning slowly. As he watched her stride down the hallway, Darcy also realized that he wasn't entirely sure if he had ever had a conversation alone with Charlotte Lucas before. He crossed his arms and forced himself to keep his posture straight and upright.

She didn't stop until she was uncomfortably close—closer than most conventions of their lack of relationship would call for. In heels, she was almost as tall as Georgie. Her eyes were large and pale, just barely hazel with more green in them than brown. Her hair was also brown, in a lighter shade than Elizabeth's. Loose pieces escaped from her ponytail, curving around the edges of her somewhat round cheeks. If Darcy had ever had an older sister, he would have imagined her to look a bit like Charlotte. The unprompted affection of the thought threw him somewhat, so he was not prepared for it when she tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear and said, in a quick, hot voice, "I don't know what you said to her, but you really screwed up."

Darcy paused as he struggled to pick up whatever thread of conversation he was missing. "Excuse me?"

"To Liz. I spent all week trying to talk you up and then you ruined it!"