Nothing ever fatigues me, but doing what I do not like. - Jane Austen
When I awoke, I found myself back in my flat. I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to will away the worst headache I had ever experienced. The portal had a vacuum-like effect, and I was certain this was what being inside a black hole felt like, however, less deadly. The cerebral pain was making me feel paper-thin, as though my head was going to rip apart or implode at the temples. The headache flicked in the back of my eyeballs. Feeling as though I had a vice on my head, I groaned and rolled to my side, the cold tile soothing my face. Opening my eyes, I noticed another figure lying next to me. I did not desire to see. If I looked, it would prove this had all happened, and everything had been real.
I breathed deep and slowly bent my head to look at none other than Mr. Darcy. His top hat lay carelessly next to him as if abandoned. A minor setback, I told myself as I attempted to remain confident. Now that I knew the mirror was the catalyst, I could figure this out. A minor complication, I reiterated. My positivity faltered when I asked myself if the book was the catalyst, and the mirror was a mere instrument. Recognizing I was more confused than ever, I pushed these ideas out of my head and focused on the present.
I moved towards him and placed two fingers upon his neck, checking for a pulse. A rhythmic beat vibrated upon my fingers, and I emitted a sigh of relief. He was going to be okay. He was going to be fine.
Thank goodness, I had a decent-sized bathroom. That was one of the selling points when Pirhana and I had bought the place. The other was the fact that it was a two-bedroom condominium, and the kitchen had an island. The condo was not cheap, but we could comfortably afford the place since we were both working. Now that I had no job, everything was going to change.
Guilt washed over me as I looked at him. It broke my heart to see him in such a way. I lifted his head from the floor and onto my lap. Stroking his hair with shaking hands, I started to sob without cessation. I never expected all this to happen. I had begun to feel comfortable in my new world. A tiny part of me did not want to come home. I loved him. I loved him so much it hurt.
I had messed up big time. How could he trust me now? Several times, I had struggled with telling him the truth. I decided against it because I did not want to ruin what little of Pride and Prejudice I had left.
I braced myself when his eyes flickered open, and he looked upward at my crying face. He jerked away from me, sitting up to study his surroundings. With a furrowed brow, he noticed the light fixture.
Groaning, he stood up with great effort. He put his hands on the sink, leaning against it for support. He glanced sidelong at me, regarding me with a suspicious eye, "Where am I?"
I stood up, "You're in..."
Trailing off, I pursed my lips, my eyes filling with sadness as I stared at him. I hung my head in shame. I could feel his eyes searing me as he waited for me to finish my sentence. My mouth went dry, and my tongue felt pasted to the roof of my mouth. My hands and fingers grew cold as they shook of their own accord.
"Where am I?" He picked up his hat from the floor and put it on his head again.
My voice wavered, "You're in my world."
"Miss Elizabeth," he narrowed his eyes,"do not lie to me. I am finished with your lies and-"
I sighed and walked out of the bathroom before he could finish. He accompanied me to the living room with every purpose of finishing what he was going to say. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the widescreen television set mounted on the wall. Its sleek, black screen shined back mirroring his probing expression. His features changed from vexed to curious, and he walked towards it, poking the screen with his finger.
I crossed my arms over my chest, "You were saying?"
His stunned silence gave me the moment to plead my case. I cleared my throat, "Like I said before, you're in my world now. The future," I took a deep breath, "I'm from the future."
"That is impossible." He scrunched his eyebrows together and tilted his head to the side, "What you are implying is time travel, and that is improbable. It cannot happen."
"It is not time travel. I suppose you could call it dimension jumping."
"Dimension jumping?"
"Fine." I insisted, "What would you call it?"
"Something this ridiculous does not merit a title."
I fought the impulse to roll my eyes, "Dimension jumping it is."
He narrowed his eyes, "That would imply that we are in another dimension."
"What if we are?"
He stayed silent as he looked around, his eyes scanning the room. Above the couch, I had arranged a gallery wall of paintings and sketches. All of them were reproductions I had procured from the local home décor store. In comparison to Pemberley, my home was a tiny hovel. Feeling embarrassed, I walked towards the kitchen and asked, "Do you want some coffee? It'll only take a minute or two."
"You can make it that fast?"
"Ah!" I smiled, "The wonders of modern conveniences!"
Once the coffee was done brewing, I poured two cups and walked back to the living room. I handed him his cup and said, "We need to talk."
He sat down on the couch and asked, "What is happening?"
I sat down, angling my body towards him, "What happened is impossible in my world as well. But, it has happened, and we have to accept it."
"How?"
"That's the thing," I answered sheepishly, "I-I don't know."
"This cannot be real." He shook his head, "How do I even know you are real?"
"I promise you," I took hold of his hand, bringing it to my cheek; "I am real."
Swallowing, he kept his hand on my cheek and for a moment, I believed I had been forgiven. The moment, however, was fleeting as he flinched his hand away. The pain in my chest tore at me. I wanted to shrivel up into nothingness. I looked away, focusing on the dark television screen.
He whispered, his voice trembling, "I would have married you."
I sighed, "I know."
He went on, "I would have married you in an instant. The pain of being lied to is acute."
"I never lied."
"What do you make of this?" His eyes bore into mine, "This circumstance is the result of falsehoods."
"I never lied to you," I repeated.
"Were you going to stand by and let me marry you?" He snapped, "Our union would have been founded on lies."
"For the last time, I never lied to you!" I fumed, "I simply withheld information, and that was killing me!" I clenched my teeth, "Do you think I was enjoying not telling you? It was torture!" Balling my fists, I retorted "You don't understand what it's like being in love with you!"
"And you do not realize what it is like being in love with you," he shot back.
Recoiling, I was unable to speak. His words stung. I could not fault him. His existence had been trifled with, and all I could do was tell him he was in my world now. I was surprised he had not fled the room. Instead, he remained as calm as he could considering he had been sucked into a mirror. I credited it to his preparation at Pemberley; grooming him for life as an aristocrat.
"Clearly," his brow creased as he changed the subject, "you are not Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Might I inquire as to who you are?"
"Yes," I nodded, "I suppose I should tell you." I murmured, "My name is Amanda Price."
"Why did you not tell me your real name when we met?"
"I didn't want to mess anything up." I winced, "I realize now that I made a dreadful disaster of everything."
"What did you not want to; as you so articulately put it, mess up?"
I hesitated and looked down at my folded hands, "I'm frightened to tell you."
"Why?"
"The book you found?"
"Yes," he asked with piqued curiosity, "what about it?"
I looked down and began to fidget with the sleeves of my dress. My brow crinkled when I realized I was still in a Regency gown. This had all been real. At long last, I said, "The book is over two hundred years old."
"Two hundred years old?" He frowned, "I am only eight and twenty years of age."
"You are," I winced, "a fictional character from a novel written by a lady named Jane Austen over two hundred years ago."
It felt good getting it off my chest. For some strange reason, I was frightened. Was he going to vanish? It always happened in the time travel movies when the character found out some detail they were not supposed to know. I reminded myself this was not a movie and Darcy was still before me looking more perplexed than ever.
He stood up, upsetting his cup of coffee. "You are telling me I am not real."
I stood up, "No, I'm not. You are real to me."
"That may be so," Darcy said, "but, if what you tell me is the truth; then I do not belong to your world."
"It is the truth, Mr. Darcy."
"To trust you once more," Darcy whispered, "will be difficult."
"I know," I spoke in a delicate tone.
"I am wounded." His voice shook, "The woman I loved is not who she seemed."
"Loved?"
Before he could respond, the front door opened and Pirhana walked through accompanied by Michael. Darcy's eyes narrowed, no doubt recognizing Michael from the portrait in my book. Michael was handsome, devastatingly so, and charming. He was tall about an inch or two shorter than Darcy. He had dark curly hair and brown eyes that danced with mischief whenever he looked at me.
Pirhana dropped whatever she was carrying and rushed towards me, keeping her arms open for a hug. "We were going to file a missing person report. But, we couldn't. The police said that you weren't gone long enough. Where in the world have you been? You have a whole lot of explaining to do. What's with the dress?"
Michael and Darcy exchanged glances. It seemed as though they were sizing up each other. After a few seconds, Michael cleared his throat, "Nice, uh, hat."
Darcy nodded civilly, "Thank you."
Surprising me, Michael extended his hand out, "I'm Michael."
Darcy did not take Michael's hand. In his world, shaking hands was an intimate act reserved for those who knew each other well. One did not shake hands with acquaintances and especially not with those they had recently met. Michael did not know this little factoid and frowned as he put his hand back down.
"I am Mr. Darcy of Pemberley."
"Say what?" Pirhana asked and then turned towards me, "Where did you meet this guy? He thinks he's Darcy."
Michael made a face, "He thinks he's bloody Colin Firth."
"I doubt he even knows who Colin Firth is."
"Did you go to one of those Regency retreats you were always telling me about when we were together?" Michael asked.
"Together?" Darcy asked and glanced sidelong at me.
Ignoring Darcy, I answered Michael and Pirhana, "No, I did not go to any regency retreats. You're going to need to sit down for this one."
***
They both looked at me with their mouths hanging open. I was anticipating this reaction. To expect them to think this was normal would have been asking for too much. Hey guys, I came back from the world of Pride and Prejudice and brought Darcy back with me... that screams crazy.
Michael spoke, "Don't you think this is taking your love for Pride and Prejudice a bit too far?"
I fought the urge to berate him. Instead, I bit my lips as hard as I could without drawing blood. Not wanting to rehash the details of our failed relationship, I took a few breaths to calm down. The best thing to do was to let the past remain where it belonged.
"Yes, I do love Pride and Prejudice. I love anything Jane Austen related. That's who I am and it'll never change." I said in an even voice, "But, this is the truth. I'm not lying."
"No," Michael contemplated, "I know you never lie, love. It was one thing I took for granted when we were together."
"One of many things," I added in a biting voice.
"Love?" Darcy muttered.
I turned to Darcy, "We might as well get this out in the open. Michael and I had a relationship. We saw each other for four years and had met at university. He proposed to me while drunk. Of course, I was insulted and broke up with him. I broke up with him for other reasons than a drunken proposal, but I don't want to go into details. This was before I met you. I know I'm digging myself into a hole here, but, it is what it is." I sighed sagely, "I know you think differently of me now. Look, once we can figure out the mirror portal, I can send you back to your world and you never have to think of me again."
Our eyes met for the first time since arriving in my world. He seemed pensive as he observed me. A yearning for something I could no longer have seized my heart and I looked away from him.
I groaned, "I need a drink."
Pirhana exclaimed, "That's a brilliant idea!"
"What?"
"Let's go out for drinks!"
"Are you sure now is the best time?" I asked.
"Yes!" Pirhana squealed, "We can get all dolled up and the guys can get dressed up."
"I'm not dressing up." Michael nodded towards Darcy, "He's dressed up enough for the both of us."
"Ugh," Pirhana rolled her eyes. "You," she pointed at Darcy, "dress down and you," she glared at Michael, "dress up."
"I am unsure what you mean by dress down," said Darcy.
"Oh," Pirhana said with a wink, "Amanda can explain it to you."
I reddened, "What dress down means is to dress informally."
"Usually," Michael added in, "jeans and a t-shirt."
"That's too casual," Pirhana suggested, "Jeans and a decent shirt."
I felt it was too soon to introduce Darcy to my world. He was not ready to see a car driving at fifty miles per hour. He was definitely not ready to see bars and clubs. Deep down, I felt Pirhana suggested it because she still did not believe what I told her. Sure, it hurt when your best friend didn't believe you, however, I could not blame her.
"Darcy doesn't even have proper clothes."
"That's fine." Pirhana nudged Michael, "Michael will lend him some clothes."
Michael lifted an eyebrow at Pirhana, "Is she always this bossy?"
"That's nothing." I snickered, "You should hear her when the sink is full of dishes."
***
Pirhana dragged Michael by the sleeve and out the doorway. She called back telling us to be ready in an hour. Darcy looked at the clothes Michael had lent him. I felt as though I could hear his thoughts and they were saying, "What? No cravats?" Darcy picked out a black shirt and jeans.
"Where should I change?" Darcy asked as he unbuttoned his shirt; taking it off.
For a moment, I was transfixed, remembering the day at the pond in Pemberley. It seemed so long ago even though it had happened yesterday. Time held no substance when one was in love. I looked down, embarrassed I was thinking like this about him.
"I-In the bathroom or the bedroom," I shrugged, "it doesn't matter."
I watched as he walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I sighed and walked to the bedroom to change. I turned the light on in my walk-in closet and stared at my wardrobe. My very modern wardrobe was full of clothing that would shock even Lydia!
In the back of my closet, I found a silver sequined cocktail dress with the tag still on it. I never knew why I bought the dress. This was the sort of dress to be seen in, and I was not the kind of girl that went out. I tore the tag off as though I was christening it and tossed it on the bed. Taking off my regency dress felt like a rite of passage, and I smiled as I did so, but, the smile faded when I realized I still had to unlace my corset. Granted Regency corsets were not as complicated as Georgian or Victorian ones were, yet, I still had to unlace the damned thing. I reached behind trying to undo the stay, but, only managed to make my muscles sore.
"Do you require assistance?"
Gasping, I twisted round to face Darcy. I suppose I should have started changing with the door closed. He wore the black shirt and jeans and looked incredible. I gazed at him; however, I soon realized I was still in my corset. I picked up my regency dress and held it against my body in a vain attempt to cover up. I nodded, "Yes, I need help."
In more ways than one, I thought sarcastically.
He moved behind me to untie the laces. His fingers grazed my shoulder blades as he loosened the stays. Once it was loosened, I stepped away, but, he seized me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. My Regency dress slipped from my fingers, and I thanked the heavens, I still had on my chemise.
"Darcy?" I whispered.
He reached out to caress my neck. He did not say anything as he pulled me close. My stomach was in knots as my chest rose and fell with every shallow breath I made.
"Darcy?" I whispered again.
He shut his eyes, "I apologize."
"Why?"
He turned to leave. I took hold of his hand, "Are you still in love with me?"
"I never stopped." He looked at me with pain in his eyes.
He walked out of the bedroom, closing the door. I sat on the edge of my bed and groaned, "Yea, I really need that drink right about now."
~~~
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