From Pemberley to Manhattan [COMPLETED]

Chapter 2

TODAY

Having the contents of his stomach scattered on the concrete floor would have disconcerted most men. Not Mr. Darcy. He behaved as a perfect gentleman, as expected by a fellow in his social position and family, even though his surroundings had changed inexplicably.

In one moment, he was running away from a lunatic in the woods of his property. In the next, he found himself in a spacious room, with high windows and strange people staring at him, feeling a strong dizziness. Had he been taken to a lunatic asylum when he was unconscious? Those people had a bizarre appearance, such as the lunatic who had trespassed his land. There was even a lady with blue hair strands! Is that paint?

Mr. Darcy, however, conducted himself as if it were all perfectly well: he simply begged everyone's pardon, asking for directions to the nearest men's waiting room. He kept his chin high and his features serious, successfully hiding a most fervent wish to freshen himself and find out what was that place.

Seconds passed, yet the odd group around him just stared back: some with their mouths hanging; others with wide eyes; some even wore a combination of both; in short, an ill-bred group.

Mr. Darcy decided it was time to look for the most refined man in the room, who would hopefully be the most reasonable one too. He was quite surprised to discover the most polished-looking man was dark skinned, wore an elegant suit and looked very young, perhaps even younger than himself. His hairstyle was highly questionable, but his broad smile and his curious eyes offered Mr. Darcy the confidence he required.

"I bid you a good morning," He forced himself to smile, "Are you a Negro servant?"

Everyone – except for the man he'd spoken to – gasped in horror, and even one of them, the female with blue hair, accused him of being racist. "You can't speak to him like that!" The lady had clearly taken serious offense, which he hadn't meant. Unless...

"Why am I not allowed to speak to you?", Mr. Darcy was suddenly concerned for the man, to the point he completely ignored the blue-haired woman's strange accent. "Sir, if these people have committed the monstrosity of enslaving you, be not afraid! I will do everything in my power to help you be freed! Do not mind if the Slave Trade Act did not prohibit the act of slavery itself. I can still help you!"

Gasps, snorts and cries of horror followed. Someone even fainted. On the other hand, the man to whom Darcy's words had been directed began laughing. Out loud.

"It worked! Can't you get it?" Trevor couldn't believe his own eyes. He wasn't at all offended by the stranger's words; in the early eighteen hundreds, he'd probably be considered a radically modern gentleman.

Now he felt relieved they'd chosen Ethan to test the machine in his place, even though his friend had refused to wear according to the fashion in that century.

Offering the man a bottle of water and a hand towel, Trevor demanded his name.

"Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, at your disposal." The man answered in a cordial manner. "May I inquire yours?"

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Darcy. I'm Trevor Nolan."

Grace, the blonde with blue strands, one of the best scientists in Ethan's team, was the first to return from her shocked state. "But..." She stuttered, "If the experiment was successful and this Darcy person is from 1811, how's Ethan supposed to get back?"

Trevor froze in place. He wasn't the scientist here; he owned the lab (and the building where it was located), besides financing Ethan's research. Actually, the main reason why Trevor wanted to test the machine himself was that in case anything wrong happened he knew Ethan would find a way to fix things.

That and the fact that he wanted to be the first time traveler in History. Plus, no one else desired to risk their lives with Ethan's crazy invention, which, of course, now had been proven to be anything but.

The gate through which Ethan had entered and Mr. Darcy had come out of looked like nothing more than an average doorframe. Except it was made of steel, connected with hundreds of cables, standing otherwise alone in the middle of a platform, with no door. Around the platform, dozens of computers positioned on workstations controlled every single change in the portal.

When Ethan had crossed it, the machines were beeping non-stop, and the group could see landscape on the other side of the portal, like a mirror. They could see lovely woods, and had a partial view of a lake and an elegant house through the portal. Now, the room was scary quiet, and the doorframe only showed the gray wall of the lab.

"Everything's fried! What will we say to NASA when they come looking for the equipment they lent us?", one demanded.

"They'll send the FBI after us!", another warned.

"We'll be arrested!", a third one protested.

As the rest of the team began awaking from their daydream, they also realized what they had done. An illegal experience. A mistake that could change History. The destruction of invaluable Government equipment. As hell broke loose, Trevor counted how many stupidities they had committed in a matter of hours.

Yet, weren't breakthroughs supposed to be that chaotic? At least, that was what Ethan always claimed...

Besides, Trevor Nolan had seen much worse in his ten years of experience in the corporative world. Recreating a time travel machine without its original creator would be a piece of cake compared to that. The only real problem he would have to solve right now was standing in front of him, looking completely lost and suspicious at the same time.

"Grace", he whispered to the only woman not screaming, "I'll control everyone. But I need you to put our new friend to sleep."

"Where are you taking him?" Grace was curious; the man from the past was the main proof of their crime.

"Manhattan", Trevor answered simply.

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