Real: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Iris Lim

  "If you lose our memories?" He clarifies.

  I nod, throat blocked.

  "Then, my dear," he says, smiling, "we shall replace them — one by one."

  • • •

  "Well, that was spectacularly exhausting!" I whirl around the room and collapse backwards on my bed. Well, our bed, I guess? We take turns, loosen up the cleaning schedule and stuff. The staff love me for it. I turn my head sideways and smile at Darcy. "Did you have fun?"

  "Your joy is my joy." He walks over, also smiling. The nightshirt-plus-robe ensemble doesn't throw me as much as it used to. "You danced little, darling."

  I sigh happily. "Yeah — it's okay. I liked the talking and the drinking and stuff."

  "Had I known, I would have insisted upon a dinner — not a ball." His teasing voice is so very sexy. He leans against the bedpost. "Your family enjoyed themselves, I hope?"

  "I'm sure they did," I assume, too dreamy to care. "Man, so much talk from Mo— Mother."

  He doesn't seem to catch the slip. "Your mother has always been — of the expressive sort."

  I laugh way out loud. "You think? I mean — yeah, she totally is."

  He smiles down at me, and I know exactly what I want to do.

  He falls on top of me the very second I pull him down. It's warm and comforting and wonderful to smile up at his too-close face. "Thank you for arranging the ball."

  "My pleasure." He kisses me with a smile.

  "I'm sorry if my mother was way too loud."

  "The lack of surprise aids tolerance quite vastly."

  "Ha," I laugh openly. "We'll see what you think after her week here."

  "Unlike you." He smiles. "I have the benefit of separation of the sexes. One could hardly expect me to keep your mother constant company. Your father is a rather insightful man himself. I have little to complain about."

  "Yeah." The realization that he knows and cares for my family — almost the way I do — brings about emotions beyond words.

  "I wish you a happy Christmas, my love." He kisses me again. I gladly kiss him back.

  "A very happy one." I smile. "Even a hundred mothers telling me to get pregnant can't erase that fact."

  Darcy laughs heartily. "The Lord shall provide in His own good time. Your mother may rest her fears."

  I kiss him instinctively — and it takes a second for the words to sink in.

  "You mean — kids?" I pull back — heart, well, quickening. "That the Lord shall —"

  "Worry not." He kisses my forehead. "I shall never find a mistress to provide."

  Mistress, provide — wait, what?!

  "You — want kids," I barely make out.

  He pulls back a little, probably sensing something wrong. "I blame you not, Lizzy. I understand 'tis the Lord's timing. There are —"

  "Like, now," I cut him off. My mind is dazed and distracted and filled with gradual, sudden alacrity. "You want us to have kids now."

  "If the Lord wills," he says plainly. He's frowning now. I rush to remind myself about just how crucial this is. To survive in Regency England is one thing — to bear and birth and rear a child here?

  Oh, my word.

  Wait, has my period —

  My — has it even come at all? It's been — months, I think, almost a year? Maybe?

  My mind distorts and goes crazy. My hands fly instantly to my very flat abdomen. We've been sleeping together for — months, I think. If there have been signs of any kind of kid, I've missed them. In fact, I don't think my period ever came before —

  Then again, thank God.

  Who wants to deal with feminine hygiene in 1800?

  Not me — nuh uh.

  The sound of Darcy's loud yawn jumps me back to the present.

  "Goodnight, Lizzy." He kisses me afterwards, and takes himself to his side of the bed. "We shall spoil ourselves tomorrow."

  I answer his smile with a half-hearted one of my own. He falls asleep soon — him under the covers, me above. And no matter what he's dreaming about, I'm about to have nightmares twice as bad.

  Eleven

  "Oh, this is beautiful! Thank you, Lizzy!"

  Georgiana's exuberance today comes close to topping Gigi Darcy's. With her smile this bright, it's effortless to reciprocate. "You're very welcome."

  Darcy's arm is at the perfect spot to squeeze my shoulder when I lean back again. I look up to see his smile — uncannily similar to his sister's. I smile back anyway.

  "You make a wonderful sister," he whispers lowly. The winter warmth grows from both the fireplace and my belly.

  "Oh, and she shall make a wonderful mother as well!" My mom in this universe — not the least bit less subtle — exclaims to the room.

  I make sure to roll my eyes before I look her way. The words I've rehearsed to myself the past six nights come out in perfect faux composure, "The Lord gives in His own time."

  Any reference to religion seems to shut these people up — and it works just as well this time.

  "Mrs. Darcy." I look up just as Colonel Fitzwilliam walks over. He's delightful here, even if I did neglect him the first 24 hours since meeting him. I miss the Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts during every single company event. The formal military wear indoors just doesn't communicate the same degree of 'fun'. Even if he actually is just as fun in this timeline. "I shall have to apologize, madame, for neglecting to prepare the best of presents."

  I quirk a brow. I mean, sure, I don't exactly need any of the outdated contraptions I've been supposedly getting as brand new gifts the past half hour — but hey, it's fun to tease.

  Besides, I don't really hate antiques all that much.

  I think?

  "Why haven't you?" I ask Fitz— Richard. I try to sound hurt, because my mom's dramatic tendencies have apparently bled a bit into my genes. "Christmas at Pemberley is not something you take for granted!"

  Both my husband and his cousin seem taken aback by my outburst — because, yes, I am, too. I blush.

  "Sorry."

  "Do not worry." Darcy kisses my brow.

  The man is a goner.

  They don't really tell you how nice it is to be the one gone for.

  "My dear cousin Lizzy," the Colonel says with a dramatic bow, "I offer you — the loftiest gift I could procure within Darcy's draconic measures against men's presents to his wife."

  I laugh at the declaration, and even Darcy does too. The bulky item feels so fluid under the paper wraps that it almost slips off my lap. Darcy made sure he's the one to help me catch it.

  "Is this silk?" I guess, actually enjoying myself very much. I've always loved Christmas.

  The solider-man smiles mysteriously, so I channel my attention to unveiling the item instead.

  And yes, sure enough, generous folds of luscious silk slip out and about, overflowing the way my heart does. The fabric feels both light and regal. They don't make things like they used to — or do, like, right now — like, back 200 — uhm, yeah.

  "I see you like your present, madame." Richard smiles, and I thank him with bright smiles and gushing words.

  "This shall not do," Darcy grumbles, after clearing his throat excessively. I look up just in time to see the mischief slip away on his face, replaced by a very fake scowl. "My wife shall not titter and jubilate over other men's presents."

  I laugh before thinking — so it's a good thing everyone else laughs too. I steal a glance at Jane, who looks as gorgeous as ever so early on Christmas morn. She's leaning happily against Bingley, her husband; and my heart bursts a little more.

  True love conquers all — no matter the time, place, or era.

  "Lizzy, you must open Fitzwilliam's present!" Georgiana shouts before picking her way amongst the gifts to my side.

  "I thought I already did?" I think I'm so clever.

  "No — my brother's!" Georgiana laughs and hangs on to my arm. "I think you shall like it very much."

  "More than you like yours?" I smile. She is already wearing the earrings from me.

 
; "Perhaps."

  Her voice and smile are so mischievous that I don't even hear Darcy moving until he's sitting beside me. The chair isn't exactly twin-size. But, hey, Christmas snuggles.

  "Happy Christmas, my love." Darcy's smile is dreamy and sexy as hell when he hands the box over. The box is heavy and solid. My barely-awake peripheral thoughts wonder if it's a book. "Shall you not open it?"

  I bite my lip, hiding a smile, and gently glide my fingers over my present. Darcy seems to jump when I try to turn it over — so I keep it faced up.

  His eyebrow lift does it — and I'm so anxious to get him alone that I'm forced to open my present. I savor it, chipping away at corners and peeling paper off slowly. I barely notice that everyone in the room is watching me.

  When the paper falls away and the now-obvious jewelry box is opened, the tears in my eyes are real.

  "Darcy, you didn't have —" I look at him while my hands still cradle the box. I've always been more geeky than girly — but any girl loves her diamonds. I look at the gift again, and then at him. The sapphires are the same color as his eyes when he's happy — like that tie he always wears.

  Because somewhere between my greens and his greys — there is a blue that's distinctly us.

  And these gorgeous jewels reflect that perfect shade.

  "Do you like your present?" He asks because somehow he thinks he has to.

  I nod repeatedly, I sniff, I smile.

  He doesn't really get the chance to smile back because the hell to propriety, I'm kissing him now.

  At least, for the first half minute, he doesn't seem to care to stop me.

  • • •

  "They fare well in the snow." This-world-Jane walks up to my stake by the window.

  I send her a small smile, still not completely adjusted to her new wardrobe and vocabulary. "Georgiana loves winter, I think."

  "She truly looks as if she does," Jane gushes before looking out with me. Richard Fitzwilliam is one strong man to put up with his cousin's demands to play in the snow when it's this cold.

  I don't say much. I just smile. Because I'm too overwhelmed to say anything coherent.

  "Lizzy," Jane whispers. I turn to look at her. She's furrowing her brow and looking at me earnestly. I know she has something unpleasant or awkward to say. "Are you happy?"

  I'm frankly quite taken aback.

  "Happy?"

  She nods vehemently. Behind her, I see Darcy and Bingley chatting happily. It's all so — domestic. It's blissful and calm and unreal.

  "Of course I am." I grab her hands. She looks relieved. "Do I look — unhappy?"

  There's something about Jane, no matter the packaging, that makes me a lot more vulnerable than usual.

  "You look — wistful," she says. Her frown softens a little. "I see you and Darcy, and you two look impeccably happy. Yet there are moments —"

  She cuts herself off, and I'm suddenly sighing nervously.

  If she can see it — can Darcy see it too?

  "There are people, Lizzy, who show their every emotion on their face." Jane looks at me, still holding my hands. "My sister Caroline, for example, can hardly ever hide any disdain she feels."

  I make a sound that's somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, because, you know, some things never change.

  "And you, Lizzy — have never been one to shy from expression." She pulls me closer, a full-body emotional x-ray. She leans in to look me in the eye. I shrink back a little. "What ails you?"

  I gulp, feeling more exposed than the first night I found out I wasn't wearing any underwear. "I'm — fine."

  "Are you?"

  Because she's Jane, of course. She doesn't fuss or nag — she breaks you down with genuine concern. She cares so hard about everyone and everything that you can't help but give in.

  "I'm — happy, Jane. I really am." I smile faintly. It's not that I don't miss my other life. I miss my office, I miss my bed. I miss the hills of San Francisco, no matter how unforgiving they want to be.

  I miss my family.

  And even though meeting them here was the best surprise of this whole Christmas season — the ways they've been altered — just makes me miss the real ones even more.

  "Are you with child, Lizzy?"

  "No! I mean — no, I'm not — I think." I pant a little from the unexpected interrogation. What is with these people and children?

  She's suddenly frowning hard again. "I am so sorry, Lizzy. You must worry."

  I — must?

  Do I smile or frown at these things?

  I try a half-hearted attempt at both — and end up very thankful this century didn't have smartphones. Who needs that all over the internet?

  Oh, man, the internet.

  I'll leave my embroidery and music in a heartbeat for one minute of it. It's a drug that's not even remotely close to being out of my system.

  "Lizzy —"

  "Jane — I'm fine, okay?" I try to perk up. "Darcy's a wonderful husband, and I — I'm very happy about where we are right now."

  Jane nods, still frowning — and I remember the time Bingley had almost broken her heart irreparably.

  "You are content?" She presses.

  I smile and nod — because I am, I really am.

  Who knew this day would come? That snobby mister-in-the-way-of-my-promotion can become my personal prince charming? I'm like Belle in that song — something about discovering chapter three.

  "Very content." I smile at Jane.

  The roaring fireplace can't offset the winter cold — but at least my heart is warm, at last.

  "I am glad." She finally smiles back.

  I nod.

  I sneak a peek at our husbands. Bingley looks strange to me — the high collars and chestnut hair. His skin tone, at least, seems vaguely the same. Darcy, on the other hand, is just plain yummy as ever.

  He notices me looking at him — turns and sends a wink my way — before continuing their chat.

  I beam.

  Why did I ever need convincing to date him? Every excuse I'd ever had, every complaint or objection — they all feel insignificant in the grand scheme of things. They're actually, well, superfluous even.

  Sometimes, even the most stubborn mind can't keep you from where your heart belongs.

  And I'm beyond thankful for that.

  • • •

  "Are you well, my dear?"

  I look up at a nightshirt-clad Darcy sporting a handsome frown (yes, even the frown). I offer a really small smile. "I'm — okay."

  He nods hesitantly. Then he sits down with me. The chair isn't exactly made for two, but I like sitting on his lap anyway. He kisses my brow. "I had thought you'd enjoyed todays celebrations."

  "I did," I assure him. My voice sounds depressing. No wonder he's worried. "The presents were nice — wonderful."

  Even the enthusiastic words don't make my voice sound any happier.

  He nods solemnly because of course he does. "Are you worried?"

  The flipped question catches me by surprise — but, I guess, it makes sense.

  "Maybe?"

  He pulls me closer. "Maybe you are worried."

  "Yeah." My voice sounds small and insignificant. The winter chill is seeping deep into my bones — and now, apparently, my voice too.

  "Is it regarding Jane?"

  "What? Oh — no, not at all." I smile at him. "She's — great. Thank you so much for inviting them again."

  He nods and smiles, so I nod and smile too.

  "I hope you did not find my present overly indulgent."

  My mind flies back to the way those sapphires reflected my face back at me. They were that polished. "I love the necklace. Thank you."

  He looks relieved, and I feel guilty for having ever made him feel otherwise. We don't talk for a few seconds.

  "What worries you?" he asks again.

  I gulp. I'm cornered.

  "Lizzy —"

  "The other place —" I say. He pauses to listen, eyes wide. "I — I missed the other p
lace today."

  It takes a second or two for him to nod. "You are not happy here. You miss your mind palace, the place —"

  "Oh no! Not at all!" I loop my hands closely around his neck. I need to know better. "I'm happy here. I really am."

  This isn't a drill. We've talked about this before. He knows that I remember this alternate life fondly — but that I'm content with him here.

  "Then why do you —"

  "Okay, maybe missing was the wrong word." I scoff at myself. "It's just Jane was talking to me today and I miss her and I haven't seen her for so long, at least not in this side of the universe. It was a joy to see —"

  "Jane is in your mind palace?" He interrupts.

  I pause to look at him.

  I frown. "Yes?"

  His face falls back into a frown. I'm bewildered. "Darcy, I —"

  "And I am not."

  Huh? "What?"

  "You say Jane is in your mind palace, that Georgiana is — but I am not."

  He's — insecure?

  Oh.

  "You are," I say quickly. I wonder how much to tell him. "You're definitely there — and you are handsome and smart and rich and just as wonderful as you are here."

  He nods a little, thoughtful. I wait.

  "But we are not married?"

  How he ever figured that out will forever be a mystery to me.

  "No," I answer honestly.

  He just keeps nodding. The room feels colder by the minute.

  "And you wish it to be true?" He says lowly.

  "What?"

  "Your dreams, your thoughts — you often mention them dearly. Do you wish for that reality, where we are not together, to be true?"

  Not that I've ever considered that fact to be malleable.

  That was real. This is not.

  Until this was.

  I lean in to kiss him. He pecks me back lightly. My hands are on his jaw. "Darcy — I will always, I promise — from the moment you first kissed me — I will always want to be with you."

  He starts to show signs of a smile again. My heart aches and soars.

  "Then why do you worry?" His face is open and honest, his curiosity real.

  "Well, I worry because —" I pause. I'm thinking. I clear my throat. "— I worry that this — here — you and me — that it's not — real."