"Pumpkin? Hello, anyone here?"
Dad's fingers snapped in front of my vacant gaze, effectively interrupting my daydreaming about sheepish grins and snubbed noses. I glanced at the coconut agar-agar jelly he was handing me, then at the clock above the television, and pushed the dessert plate away. "No, thanks. I gotta work on something."
Amy's plea reached me on the staircase. "Can I have your share?"
"Be my guest," I shouted back, before closing my door.
For nearly three weeks, I had procrastinated polishing my Creative Writing homework in order to advance the Pride and Prejudice plot, and get closer to seeing Darcy again--just a couple of chapters, and he would arrive at Rosings. Completing my assignment should take two, three hours tops, meaning I could squeeze it in tomorrow, right before the deadline.
Burying the guilt in the back of my mind, I stuck the Bridge on my temple, then groaned, annoyed at the notification that popped.
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The maintenance task took a split second, and before I could curse the InfiCorp technical team, I was sitting in a carriage, and fighting against transportation sickness by conjuring the memories of Theo's pranks.
"Lizzy, what is the reason behind this naughty smile of yours?" Mrs. Bennet squinted at me from the opposite seat.
I repressed an even wider grin at the thought of her reaction. What would my dear mother reply to the recounting of Theo's foolish behaviour?
When the family had announced the engagement of Mary and Mr. Collins to the Lucases, Theo had dived in Sir William's shell and repeated "Capital, capital!" all dinner long. Charles had arched a brow when I had choked on my pea soup, while Jane had gently patted my back.
At Christmas, I had been thrilled to meet the Gardiners, and overjoyed to discover them under Auntie Chantrea and Uncle Wade's appearance: this meant their kids had been loaded into the game too.
After the new year, Mary had become Mrs. Collins, and Theo had slipped into her husband's shoes to dance at their wedding. I was still flabbergasted by his complete lack of moves--the real Mr. Collins was Billy Elliot in comparison. After the ceremony, the Gardiners had whisked Jane away to London to mend her broken heart.
When February had unfolded, Mr. Denny had "inadvertently" shoved Wickham in a ditch. Oh, the commotion caused by Theo had been a wonderful sight. Lydia had squealed and pushed poor Denny into the icy water to save her beloved Wickham, while Kitty had wrung her hands in despair for two feet of mud. I had stood on the road, plastering my best distressed-face as the explanation had materialised.
That's for disdaining Lizzy to run after an heiress, you knob head.
And yesterday, Theo had donned Mr. Bennet's costume to wish his wife and me a pleasant journey. He had bid his spouse goodbye with exaggerated lamentations, which she had taken to heart and wept about until noon, when our chaise had reached Gracechurch Street.
While Mrs. Bennet had wailed to the Gardiners how much her dear husband would miss her and the disorderliness she was expecting to find her home in after returning, I had showered Jane with love and affection. The weeks she had spent away from Hertfordshire, and the cold shoulder Caroline had given her in London, had helped her overcome the hurt of Bingley's desertion.
The four of us had then entered the elegant town house, and I had craned my neck to spot Jarod and Grace amongst the many children awaiting on the staircase. One by one, they had offered a cheek for me to kiss until my real cousins had appeared. Jarod had been sporting a sky-blue skeleton suit, and was watching over his little sister while the latter was scooting down the stairs on her bottom. Needless to say, I had swooned from an overdose of cuteness.
It was with immeasurable regret that I had parted with the happy family this morning, though Jane's addition to the travelling party had appeased my sadness.
"Dear Lizzy?" Her soft voice recalled me to the present and to our mother's question.
"I was, err, wondering if Mr. Collins' daffodils had blossomed yet."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think he grows them?"
A faint blush covered my cheeks as I remembered how I had flashed my drawers to Theo while attempting to pick up said-daffodils. Fortunately, the apparition of the Parsonage saved me from replying. When the chaise stopped in front of the small wooden gate, Mr. and Mrs. Collins waved from the parlour window.
"Oh, Mama, dearest sisters." Mary's melodious giggle greeted us as we climbed down the carriage.
Behind her, Mr. Collins gave a stiff bow. "Please allow me to welcome you to Hunsford Parsonage."
Polite nods answered his formal salute. Before Mary could invite us into the warmth of their home, he enquired, "Is Mr. Bennet in good health? I hope he is not suffering from rheumatism. So many people his age are familiar with back pain come winter."
"Your father-in-law is very well. Thank you, sir." Mrs. Bennet ostensibly tightened her shawl around her shoulders.
Mary's smile faltered for an instant before she regained her composure. "Lady Catherine is gracing us with her presence. Let us not make her wait any longer."
What? Weren't we supposed to receive an invitation to dine at Rosings Park tomorrow?
The party started towards the little cottage, leaving me alone on the gravel path. On the porch, Jane came to a halt, and seeing me befuddled, trotted back. "Dear Lizzy, you are quite pale."
"I wasn't expecting to meet Lady de Bourgh so soon."
"Indeed, what an honour. Mary must have woven tight links with her esteemed neighbour over the last month." She slid her arm under mine and guided me to the entrance.
While Mr. Collins commented on its neatness, the travellers and I shed our coats. Before entering the parlour, I paused for a split-second to steel myself, then plastered an appropriate smile on my face as Darcy's aunt turned to gaze at us.
"No freaking way."
Mrs. Bennet let out a faint squeal, but I was too perturbed by the stodgy, stuffy, yet sexy Regency version of my Creative Writing teacher.
Ms. Favreau's hard stare rooted me on the spot, her lips pinched in a thin line. Her usual bob was replaced by an intricate braided bun, and her skirt suit, by a brocaded gown whose golden threads flowed from her delicate shoulders down to her ankles. In her hand, a lace fan rested, unopened, and ready to point out any potential improvement in Mrs. Collins' house.
"Miss Elizabeth, I believe you had not anticipated the delight of Lady Catherine's presence. Hence your flowery greetings," Mr. Collins stammered, white as a sheet.
I blinked at Mary, whose widened eyes and silent plea I could not ignore. "Yeah. I mean, yes. I apologise."
With an impressively deep bow, Mr. Collins introduced his family-in-law. "Your Grace. Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, and--"
"And Miss Elizabeth." Lady Catherine's voice was dripping with condescension.
My knees bent into a shuddering curtsy under the weight of both her and Ms. Favreau's authority.
Mary held out a trembling hand towards the sofa. "Would you care for a cup of tea?" she offered once we were all seated, with the exception of Mr. Collins, straight as a ramrod in front of the mantelpiece. I picked the armchair situated as far away as possible from the severe owner of Rosings Park.
Heavy silence spread in the parlour, punctuated by the clinking of spoons inside cups and the occasional slurping. I nibbled on a scone to keep my mouth occupied.
"Mr. Collins, were you able to have a carpenter look at your closet? If not, I shall recommend you an excellent cabinetmaker in London. In fact, I shall give you his address. You can mention my name." Lady Catherine glared at her interlocutor. "Paper, please."
Collins darted to the desk and fumbled to get a sheet, quill, and ink. He dropped his cargo on her lap, and wobbled back to the secretary when he realised she needed a support to write on. Finding nothing solid and large enough, he kneeled and offered his back. Without batting an eyelid, Lady Catherine scribbled the identity of the joiner.
"Your Ladyship is too kind. Your generous patronage extends over our humble abode, and to this fortunate craftsman." Mr. Collins stood up and at the same time bowed down. His jiggly buttocks were thus first to be raised, in the manner of an ostrich, and occupied most of my field of vision.
I was gaping at them when a guttural moan resonated in the cottage, startling the NPCs and me.
Could it be him? Impossible, he was scheduled to visit his aunt two weeks from now.
"This sounded like Mr. Darcy," Jane offered, with an intent look in my direction.
On cue, Darcy stumbled through the entrance and into the parlour, his hair disheveled and his face ashen. "Err, hi, Auntie. Hi, guys. Sorry, I need to talk with Lizzy."
And with that, he grabbed my hand and we hastened away from the Parsonage. Once we were out of earshot, I checked, "Is that you?"
He wiped the sweat away from his pasty cheeks, and fought to focus his hazy gaze on me. "I teleported Darcy from London. As mentioned, this is not an enjoyable experience."
"Why the rush? I was gonna skip to your arrival right after the dinner at Rosings."
"I have completed my secret space." Theo leant on a beech and gagged behind its trunk.
I rubbed his back, and removed the Harry Potter Bridge from my wish list. "Good. It will be easier and safer to meet somewhere we can be ourselves without fearing for your job."
Still pale, he turned to face me, a grin spreading from ear to ear. "I think you'll enjoy discovering where I hid the backdoor."
"Where?" I asked, not daring to hope.
"Pemberley."