My Virtual Darcy 🏆 2021 Wattys Shortlister

4 - Confidence

"He said what?"

Amy's guffaw thundered in the bedroom as I recounted my last gaming session to her. She was sitting on my desk, having disdained my office chair, and her wild laughter was threatening to tumble my puzzle pencil holder.

"And what did you do?" she managed between two hiccups. "Did you kick his disrespectful arse?"

"No, I left the game," I confessed. "Darcy and Lizzy are not supposed to converse that evening anyway. The chapter ends with the Bennet women going back home and chatting about Jane's new admirer."

My fingers drew circles on my temples in hope of speeding up the process of sobering up after those virtual cocktails. I took off the Bridge and set it back in its case.

"Speaking of Jane, you were her. I mean, it was you." I groaned and clarified, "You were Jane."

My shock during Sir Lucas' introductions must have been as comic as the one painted on my sister's face.

"Jane? The eldest sister, right? The goody-two-shoes?"

"The kindest and most sensible Bennet girl," I corrected, arching a brow at her misunderstanding of Jane's personality.

"So, you loaded our family? How did the parents look in costumes?"

"Dad was striking in his tailcoat, and Mom was funny, with ribbons and feathers in her hair." I paused, and side-glanced at her. "You were kinda cute without makeup. And with holeless clothes."

Amy scoffed and rose to her feet, toppling my Avengers 3D puzzle. Without bothering to pick up the pieces, she stormed off, into her bedroom, slamming both doors.

Why would the Bridge associate the sweetest character of all Austen's work to this pain in the neck? Bewildered by such a choice, I sighed and re-assembled my pencil holder. The only believable possibility was that I had only one sibling, and Jane was the closest to Elizabeth.

After dinner, I hesitated between working on my English Literature paper, and going back to the Meryton assembly, to make that nitwit swallow his words. Though I chose the former, a variety of highly-coloured insults crossed my mind, disturbing my analysis of The Chronicles of Narnia and their relation to Christianity.

Reckoning I needed to get the humiliation and resentment out of my system, I leaned back in my chair for a quick game.

Would Darcy still fall in love with Elizabeth if I emptied the punch bowl over his head and ruined his perfect brushing? I mused with the idea as the Bridge materialised me again near the refreshment table.

"There you are. I was afraid Mr. Bingley's friend bored you to death."

Charlotte scrutinized my face, noting my tightened lips and clenched jaws.

"You seem distressed, Eliza. Do you need me to fetch your mother's smelling salts?"

"No, thank you. I was merely ruminating on the ridiculous conversation I overheard."

"Were you, now?"

"Mr. Bingley's friend is not interested in dancing with me. Apparently, I am not handsome enough to tempt him."

Charlotte's mouth hung open in surprise, the rudeness of Darcy's comment stirring sympathy in her look.

"Be thankful he does not fancy you, Eliza. I heard from Mrs. Long herself that he spent a whole half-an-hour sitting by her side without addressing her. Who would want the admiration of such a displeasing person?"

I would.

"Activate automatic story mode," I muttered, tears pricking my eyes.

One dance passed, then another, and another. The evening went on, and my body enjoyed the assembly thoroughly, while my mind rehashed the many reasons Darcy and Elizabeth needed to start on the wrong foot.