First Impressions: A Modern Retelling of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (Meryton Medical Romances Book 1)

by Ruby Cruz

  My phone buzzed. When I read the text on my phone, my stomach did a flip. Want to go for a drink tonight? And I don’t mean coffee.

  My head still ached mildly so I texted back, Tonight’s not good. Maybe tomorrow night? George and I made arrangements to meet at Riley’s Pub after my shift the next night.

  ~

  Thankfully, my next shift passed without much incident and the mild headache that had plagued me since getting punched in the face had faded. When the highlight of my shift revolved around a seventy-five year old patient with dementia escaping his room and running down the hallway naked, I considered that to be a relatively tame day.

  After most shifts, I felt and looked like I was emerging from a war zone. Because I didn’t want George to see me as some type of Serbian refugee, I rushed home to change and refresh my makeup before heading to Riley’s. When I arrived, he was already waiting for me at the bar. My insides warmed as he flashed his dimple when he stood. We slid into a booth closer to the back of the pub and away from the crowd near the bar.

  “Nice shiner.” He gestured to my face. Despite my efforts with makeup, the purple refused to hide. “I hate to see what the other guy looked like.”

  “Restrained and sedated, last I knew.”

  I had to admit, after the initial scrutiny of my battered face, I liked the way he was looking at me. It had been a very long time since anyone had looked at me that way, a long time since I felt…desirable. And I liked George. He was charming, attractive, funny.

  I was smiling at some anecdote about a patient flaunting his family jewels while under the influence when George’s gaze shifted from mine and the smile on his face faded.

  “What?” I asked as I looked behind me. George laid a hand on my arm to stay me but I’d already seen him. Darcy. He was with Charlie and a couple other doctors from the hospital, but his eyes were on us; in fact, he was staring at us so intently, I had half a mind to approach him and ask him what the hell his problem was. After a moment, he looked away from us and approached the bar with his friends.

  “What was that about?” I asked George, who was taking a long pull from his beer.

  “What?” He downed the rest of his drink and signaled the waitress for another.

  “Come on. If looks could kill, I think you’d both be dead. What’s up with you and Dr. Darcy?”

  He impatiently signaled to the waitress again. She approached with a harried expression. “Get me two shots of Cuervo with salt and lime.” She swiftly cleared the empty beer bottle and left. He glanced at my raised eyebrow dismissively. “Don’t tell me you don’t do shots.”

  I raised both eyebrows. “Oh, I do shots, just not when the person I’m doing them with is already exhibiting erratic behavior.”

  He looked away from me and began digging for his wallet. “Fine. Enjoy them by yourself.” He threw a few bills on the table and began to stand. “See ya around.”

  I grabbed his hand to stay him. “Whoa, wait a minute. What’s going on? I get a little curious by the death stares between you and Darcy and you decide to bail? I think I deserve a little more of an explanation than that.”

  He stared at me a long minute before sitting back down. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take my anger out on you. It’s just that…I don’t like to be in the same room as the person who ruined my life.”

  “What? You know Darcy?”

  “Know him? He and I are practically brothers.”

  Upon further prodding, he explained the story to me. “My Dad and his dad served in the Middle East together. I was in middle school when my father was shot by a sniper in Afghanistan. After he was killed, Mr. Darcy decided to take care of my mom and me, and set us up in their guest house on their estate. He even sent me to the same school as Will. He encouraged me to go to medical school and set up a trust for me to pay for the tuition. Mr. Darcy was probably the most generous man I’d ever met.”

  His voice trailed away as his mind lingered on memories. “Anyway, after Mr. Darcy passed away, all of a sudden, the trust went away. No more med school.”

  “Darcy revoked your trust fund? Could he do that? Is that legal?”

  “I don’t know. After Mr. Darcy died, I couldn’t exactly afford to pay a lawyer to figure all that out. Will left me with nothing but the clothes on my back and a mound of college debt to pay off.” Our shots arrived and George immediately downed his in one swift gulp. He dropped the desiccated lime into his empty shot glass and continued his story. “So, after finishing all those pre-med courses and with no medical school tuition or savings, I used the pre-med credits I’d already earned to go for a post-bac nursing degree. Nursing school is a hell of a lot cheaper than med school and I could work while taking classes.”

  “If being a doctor was what you really wanted, you could’ve taken out loans.”

  “Right, who would’ve loaned money to me? I had no credit history, my mom had nothing herself. Now that I’m working and have some money saved up, I think to myself that I could do it, go back to school, take out some loans. I’m thirty years old, though. I live a decent life. I don’t need a med school degree to prove anything.”

  “I can’t believe that Darcy could do that to you, though. I mean, why would he go against his father’s wishes like that?”

  “He was jealous. He’d practically grown up an only child. He was nearly a dozen years older than his sister, and when I came along, his dad seemed to prefer my company. Mr. Darcy was the greatest guy: generous, compassionate, easy-going. And you know how Will is, so serious, not an ounce of humor in his body. Even when he was younger, all he cared about was riding his stupid horse and winning awards.” He noticed the shot of tequila sitting untouched in front of me. “Do you mind?”

  “Help yourself.”

  When he finished the shot, he slammed down the shot glass. “Anyway, it’s done and over and the less I see of William Darcy, the better.” He counted the money he’d thrown on the table earlier and added another bill. “Wanna get outta here?”

  With the amount that George had drunk, there was no way he was driving. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  “Fine, but I’ll drive.”

  “What? You don’t trust me behind the wheel?” His voice was challenging rather than playful. I responded in kind.

  “No, I don’t.”

  He seemed like he was going to argue with me again. He glared at me for a moment before his gaze shifted slightly. His expression then changed from one of challenge to contrition. “I’m sorry, babe. I know I get a bit of a temper when I drink and knowing that Darcy is here makes me sort of crazy.” He reached across the booth to grab my hand. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  Despite the change in his demeanor, I still regarded him warily, especially since his hand on mine felt more possessive than intimate. I extracted my hand so I could signal the waitress. “Diet Coke, please,” I requested when she was within earshot. “Look, I agree that Darcy is a douchebag, but by us leaving we’re letting him win.”

  He glanced at Darcy and then a small smile began to form on his face. “I think you’re right, babe. We’ll stick it out.”

  ~

  Back at home, Jane had just put Chloe to bed when she met me in the living room. “Did your date with George go well?” She kept her voice barely above a whisper. I could see the curiosity burning within my sister but she was too polite to press when I sidestepped her inquiry to change into my pajamas. I felt guilty for being evasive, especially since I always grilled her about her dates with Charlie.

  Finally, I joined her on the couch. “So, he kissed me,” I offered.

  She sat up more straightly which was her only indication that she was highly interested in my story. She prompted me when I didn’t elaborate, “And…?”

  “And…I don’t know.”

  I tried to recall what I’d felt when George had kissed me. We’d been standing by my car and I’d been feeling a littl
e uneasy from the evening’s events. Darcy and his friends had been standing at the entrance to the bar, his group also seeming to be leaving. I had wanted George to kiss me, had even been anticipating the moment ever since he and I agreed to meet. George had grabbed me around the waist, pulled me towards him, and when his lips touched mine…I was disappointed. There he was, this really cute guy…okay, he was more than cute. He was gorgeous with the built body, the sun-swept hair, and that wonderful smile. But the moment we’d kissed, I knew the spark was missing. For all his looks and charm, I hadn’t been able to muster anything more than a lukewarm response to George’s kiss. A part of me began to wonder if Lydia was right. Maybe I was frigid and a prude.

  I suspected that George had had the same reaction as I had. He hadn’t said anything after, just pulled away slightly, a polite grin on his face, minus the dimple. I’d had more passion kissing Theo Pulaski on prom night, and he’d been my awkward, albeit sweet, first. When George finally spoke, he merely said, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” He didn’t kiss me again, though he did give my hand a squeeze. Although a part of me was disappointed, I was more relieved. I suspected that my attraction to George had stemmed more from my desire to be with someone, anyone, especially since that someone was hot and built, than from any real sexual pull between us. I wondered if George would even bother to ask me out again.

  After I described the kiss and my reaction to it, Jane gave me a pitying look. “I’m sorry, Lizzy.”

  “Am I crazy? I mean, here was a perfectly good-looking, decent guy and I can’t muster up enough interest to even enjoy the kiss. What is wrong with me?”

  “Nothing is wrong with you,” she assured me. “You just aren’t attracted enough to him. It happens.”

  “But George is the best-looking guy I’ve dated in a really long time.”

  “Looks and attraction don’t always go hand-in-hand. You know that.”

  Then I explained what had happened at the bar: Darcy’s annoying looks, George’s bizarre behavior and his story about the history between him and Darcy. I finished with, “I don’t know what it is with that guy.”

  “George?”

  “No, I mean Darcy. Just yesterday, I got clocked in the face and today I nearly got stood up because of him. The man must spend hours plotting new and creative ways to ruin my life.”

  “That can’t be true. You yourself admitted that he apologized for not adequately sedating your detox patient. And he couldn’t have known you had a date with George tonight when you showed up at the bar.”

  “I know, but it feels true. Every bad experience with a patient or annoyance in my life seems to trace back to him somehow.”

  “Now you’re exaggerating.” She tilted her head and studied my expression. “So, what about George? Putting the kiss aside, did you have a good time with him? Are you going to see him again, give it another go?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s so cute and funny but he’s got this weird vibe going with him. I can’t place it. It’s like ever since he knew that Darcy was in the bar, he almost became a different person.”

  “Well, you did say that he was still really angry with Dr. Darcy.”

  “I know but…it was more than that. I don’t know, I’m probably reading too much into it, but he seems to fall into my theory that guys that hot are one of three things: gay, damaged or attached.”

  “I didn’t know you had a theory about that,” she said, amused. “Bob didn’t fall into any of those categories.”

  “Loser Bob wasn’t hot. Remember the unibrow?”

  She tossed the throw pillow at me. “And what category would Charlie fall into?”

  “Currently, I would say he’s attached, speaking of which, when are you two going to see each other again?” They’d had two more dates since their movie night and each time Jane had come home glowing with happiness.

  “With this heat wave, he invited Chloe and me to come over tomorrow to use the pool.”

  “Ooh, he wants to see you scantily clad. Sounds like progress.”

  She blushed. “Do you think it’s a good idea, bringing Chloe over to his place?”

  “He invited you, didn’t he? Besides, it’s not like you’re going to be making out poolside while Chloe floats around unsupervised, right? He knows you and Chloe are a package deal and probably realizes that spending time with him is currently taking time away from her. You do know you’re allowed to enjoy yourself occasionally, don’t you?”

  “I know you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right,” I assured her cheekily. “Now, I want you to go and call Charlie and tell him that you’re on for Saturday.”

  “It’s too bad you’re working. You could come with me.”

  “And be the fourth wheel on the tricycle? I don’t think so. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun without me.” I gingerly touched the tender spot on my cheek. “Well, I think I’ve had more than my share of fun for the day. I’d better get to bed if I’m going to work tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure you should still go in? Your face looks awful.”

  “Thanks. No wonder George nearly ran out.”

  “You know what I mean. Are you sure the CT scan was fine?”

  “Perfectly normal. I am tired, though.” I punctuated the statement with a yawn. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call Charlie.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Netherfield Mansion

  My shift on Saturday was, dare I say, quiet. We ended up having more discharges than admissions that day so by the time three o’clock rolled around, the census was down and my name was chosen out of a hat to be put on-call in case we had any more admissions. Kate was grateful not to go home as she didn’t have much paid-time-off left and couldn’t afford to give up her hours, and Tania didn’t want to make the forty-five minute commute home if she was possibly going to be called back in later. That left me and Mary and Mary never wanted to give up her patients if it meant she had the possibility of taking an admission later in the shift.

  I didn’t mind overly about being sent home. I had an abundance of PTO to burn before the end of the year and no real vacation plans. I probably had enough days saved that I could take a shift off every week until the holidays and still have some vacation hours to carry over to the next year.

  As I put my stethoscope in my locker and changed my shoes, I checked my phone and saw that Jane had called me but left no message. Curious, I called her back.

  When she answered, her voice was so soft I could barely hear her. “Lizzy, could you bring my medicine?”

  “Jane, what’s going on?”

  “Migraine. Please, just bring my pills.”

  Alarms sounded in my head. “I’ll be right there. Just text me the address.”

  I ran the rest of the way to the parking garage and to my car. Even though Jane and I lived only five minutes away from the hospital, the commute felt like an eternity as I was delayed by red lights, slow moving vehicles, and rubber-neckers ogling someone getting a speeding ticket. I ran into the house, grabbed Jane’s pills from the medicine cabinet, and ran back to the car.

  Ever since I could remember, Jane suffered from migraines. They usually were triggered by stress and occasionally preceded her menstrual cycle, but when they happened, they were debilitating and lasted for nearly two days. I just prayed she hadn’t waited too long to ask me to get her meds.

  I plugged the address into the GPS and began to drive. I knew generally where the Netherfield mansion was, if only because my mother would occasionally drive us past when we were children and regale us with fantasies of living there.

  As I drove closer to my destination, I passed a modest development of townhomes, then what appeared to be an old factory neighboring the small river. Older, Victorian style homes lined the road, and then I turned onto a steep, curving road just barely wide enough to admit two small cars. After driving about a mile, the trees flanking the road suddenly disappeared and the roa
d opened up into a housing development. The rather large, rather modern development was guarded by an entranceway titled “Netherfield Estates.”

  From what I could remember, the Netherfield mansion was owned by descendants of the original founder of Meryton. The family had owned the local ironworks and had been one of the most prominent families in the area until World War II when the eldest son was killed during Pearl Harbor. The estate had since been passed on to distant relatives in California who leased the house from time to time but never invested any money or effort in fully maintaining it; more recently, much of the surrounding property was sold to a land developer who built the Netherfield Estates development. I suspected that the current owners were not doing so well financially if they were selling the land and leasing the house without investing into the maintenance of it.

  I had to admit, the houses in the development were impressive. As far as I could estimate, I could fit three houses the size of my mother’s in any one of the homes I passed.

  I drove to the far end of the development where I knew I would find the Netherfield mansion. I was expecting to find the place in some disrepair after having been vacant for so long but I was mistaken. A fountain bubbled in the middle of the paved private drive curving towards the main house. The pavers appeared to have been cleared of weeds and any cracks had been expertly repaired. The landscape, which I remembered to have been somewhat overgrown, was now immaculately trimmed and weeded. Even the house seemed to have been freshly painted, with gleaming white siding and stately stone-face. Images of Gatsby floated through my mind as I imagined limousines parked along the drive with their elegant occupants gliding towards the front doors in white suits and flapper dresses. As I eased my car down the driveway and towards a large detached garage, I spied a large glass enclosure that I surmised to be the pool house. I parked my aged Saturn next to an older model BMW SUV that I knew was not Charlie’s and was presumably his sister’s.

  I grabbed Jane’s pill bottle from where I’d thrown it onto the front seat and made my way across the driveway and up the path to the expansive double doors at the front of the house. After I rang the doorbell, I had to wait a moment before I heard footsteps approach. I was somewhat startled to be greeted by an older woman wearing a plain black housekeeper’s uniform.