From Pemberley to Manhattan [COMPLETED]

Chapter 23

Nat

If it was a joke, I couldn't see the amusement in it. I'd allowed our Brit guest to joke about a former US President, especially because it was one who I didn't admire much, but mentioning the sisterhood like that? Oh, he was playing with fire now.

But I'd give him the vote of confidence and would wait patiently – and anxiously – to hear the rest of his opinion. So, in response to his question, I just nodded.

"I believe allowing ladies to vote was a very sensible decision. Some of the ladies I am acquainted with are far better at judging other people's characters than most gentlemen." Yeah, tell me something new, Darcy. "For instance, I rely on your opinion much more than your brother's."

"That's not much of a compliment, Darcy." That time, it was me who made him laugh. If his voice was irresistible, his laugh was addictive, like great wine: I knew it would make me lose my balance if I had too much of it, but I couldn't stop myself from desiring to taste it.

"Well, I can see why you wouldn't take that as a compliment, even though I admire your brother much, and consider him a friend. I was merely stating a fact: you are one of the brightest persons I have ever had the pleasure of meeting", he used brightest, me and pleasure in the same sentence. I almost lost my panties there and then.

I lost a few words he said imagining-slash-dreaming-slash-wishing about all things Darcy would do to the pantyless version of me. Then I got a hold of myself, slapped the slutty side of my persona (one that I much enjoyed sometimes, but not under those circumstances), and kept listening.

"Indeed, you have employed your time very well." What was he talking about again? Oh, how amazingly bright I was. I wanted to jump all over him so bad. Stop it, Nat! "Any person who had the privilege to hear you would most certainly agree with me. I wish my sister had heard you last Thursday."

Last Thursday? Was he talking about my project? I'd been discussing it so passionately with Dad I hadn't realized Darcy had been paying attention... That or I'd been yelling so loud he'd have no other choice but listen.

I was having an argument with Dad, because of a project I had with some friends to organize a program for college students who were sexually abused by university colleagues. And there were many, if you were wondering. We wanted to conduct studies, have meetings, offer those women legal and psychological support, among other basic things that our over expensive universities had the means to but didn't care enough to grant them.

So we had begun looking for funding. So far, we were failing miserable: no company wanted to have a disagreement with some of the most powerful institutions in the country.

"The university could retaliate against you. And you've already heard "no" so many times. Why don't you leave it be?" My Dad, worried about my academic future, asked.

"This is where you're mistaken, dad. You think getting the project financed is the most important thing", I told him.

"Isn't it?", he was confused.

"The most important thing for these women – who have been abandoned by the ones they trusted, who have been judged by society, who have been treated as villains instead of victims – is knowing someone is willing to fight for them. So I do it. Again and again. Forever, if necessary. Because, for me, that's what living is truly about: fighting for what matters to you."

"You're so right, honeybun", Dad said. "But will you keep insisting, even if you hear nothing but "no"? What if nobody accepts to support your project financially?"

"It's true that a "yes" can change someone's life, but I believe only a "no" can change us. I mean, when you hear a "no" you can give up and move on. Or you can put yourself back together and try again. And, the more you try, the stronger you get. If you're tough enough, you might still be on your feet when you finally hear the "yes" you've wanted for so long. So, to answer your question, I'll be on my two feet for as long as it takes to get the financing we need, Dad. There are many women counting on us, and it really matters to them if we never give up."

Mom and Anna smiled at me with pride, and Bobby was swallowing hard, fighting back his emotions. He knew what it was like to be judged by society; to be forced to behave in a certain way to fit what they thought it was correct. Bobby, in his own unique way, had fought society's rules. And so did I. Every day, if necessary.

I was pretty philosophical that night. I'd had a few more glasses of wine than usually. I was inspired, and talking about a subject that moved me much. Darcy was in the room too, staring at the TV. I thought he was ignoring our discussion, but apparently, I'd been mistaken about him.

Yet again.

Now he was talking about that evening and how he'd like me to meet his... Wait a sec! Darcy had a... "You've got a sister?"

"Yes. Georgiana Darcy."

"Oh." A very peculiar name, but I guessed that was common in his family. It kind of suited what I imagined his sister would be like, though. Was she still in England? "Where's she?"

"Now?" I nodded. He considered that question for a moment, as if it was a difficult one. Perhaps they weren't close siblings, and hadn't spoken in long. Whatever it was, the thought made him sad. He had those puppy eyes as he explained, "Well, I suppose she is dead."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry Darcy." I couldn't believe I'd been so unfeeling. Of course she was dead! He'd mentioned her only once in a week, and did it with such love and sadness that it should have been obvious if I weren't so focused on... All things Darcy.

"I thank you." He offered me a small smile. "I imagine you would be intimate friends, had you had the chance to be introduced. Georgiana was always very shy, but a great judger of character, and you are the most fascinating woman I have ever known."

His words invaded my ears and traveled through my body, leaving a trail of heat wherever it passed. He said it with such a sincerity to make it the best line ever. Actually, Darcy was the kind of man that made everything sound like good old flirting. Yet, somehow, without sounding cliché at all.

Instinctively I moved closer to him. Now, our thighs were touching, and that part of my body was burning like fire. I stared back at him, only to be mesmerized; his lips were parted, his pupils were dilated, his breathing was shallow. He wanted the same thing I did. His face was suddenly above mine, so I moved my head back and closed my eyes.

And waited for the inevitable.

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