From Pemberley to Manhattan

by Laís Rodrigues

  “If you don’t mind, I have already started it,” As his eyes became a little disappointed, I continued, “But don’t worry. A smart guy like yourself will catch up pretty quickly.”

  Oh, I could be evil.

  Darcy cleared his throat and sat straight. He cocked his brow and stared at the device with suspicion. Then he glanced at me, pleading mercifully for help. Of course, a man such as Darcy wouldn’t know how to use a Kindle. He was probably one of those people who refused reading anything digital.

  I showed him how to turn the pages, which made him quite impressed, but still doubtful. After a few more moments of testing the Kindle, he started reading it, from the chapter I had pinpointed.

  “The first thing I notice is the smell: leather, wood, polish, with a faint citrus scent”, he recited smoothly. Darcy was a good out loud-reader; he changed the intonation when required, his tones varying so one didn’t feel like falling asleep. He described the infamous Red Room of Pain without the least suspicion of what it really was. Either that or he was testing me to see if I would get embarrassed and beg him to stop reading Fifty Shades of Grey in the middle of Central Park.

  You wish, Darcy.

  He kept reading as if it were a Thomas Hardy novel, until a word caught his attention. “It’s called a… flogger?!” A deep line appeared between his blue eyes, an indication he really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. He now kept the words to himself, looking more and more offended as he read further. Then a line from the book made him scream in fury, “‘I do this to women who want me to?’ This Mr. Grey is no gentleman, Madam. I must beg you to forgive me, but this”, he indicated my poor Kindle with disgust, “is not appropriate for a lady. For any polished society, I dare say.”

  “It was a lady who wrote it, Darcy”, I informed him calmly, laughing inside at his yet more furious face.

  “A lady?” He was incredulous, even when I nodded. He looked hilarious, as if he were acting as a maiden – instead of a gentleman – from the nineteenth century who had just been violently and humiliatingly ruined by Mr. Grey.

  “I can’t take it anymore”, I finally laughed, and took a picture of him with my cell. Then I showed him the result, “This is your face right now, Darcy. It’s priceless, really. I know I said you shouldn’t act today, but I’ve gotta admit: I’m loving it!”

  Suddenly, his whole focus turned to my phone’s screen. He observed it as if it was the first time in his life he’d ever seen such a technology. Gingerly, he took it from my hand, careful not to touch my fingers. After a few moments studying his own picture closely, he said, admiration all over his features, “The likeness is remarkable. Who is the artist?”

  Two could play this game. He’d beaten me to it for far too long.

  “It’s by Apple”, I told him, seriously.

  “The fruit?”, his brow went up. Good acting, Mr. Darcy. I could do better.

  “The fruit and the artist”, I emphasized, a half smile on my lips.

  “Where is his signature? I cannot find it anywhere.” His eyes were affixed on my cell’s screen, searching and studying it with great interest. Oh, he was good.

  “Right on the back, Darcy”, I told him, showing the bitten apple. His expression of amazement seemed so natural and authentic I had to laugh.

  “This is laughable indeed, Miss Nathalie.” He was now serious. “No respectful artist should sign his masterpiece in such a fashion.”

  That was it. He’d won. Yet again.

  ♥

  The night had come before it was expected, or desired. Mr. Darcy and his companion had been conversing animatedly when she got a call from home; her mother wished them to be back for dinner.

  He felt somehow embarrassed for taking Miss Nathalie for a walk without a chaperone, but he had noticed many ladies in the twenty-first century did the same. Some of them were even walking all by themselves, which made him wish he could watch over them.

  He kept his thoughts to himself, though; he had the strongest feeling Miss Nathalie would not appreciate his inclination to protect those women, especially if the lady in question was herself. She was indeed remarkable; even though her manners seemed sometimes strange to him, he considered her highly intelligent and with a strength of character he much admired.

  She spoke her mind, and had a very good notion of justice, never affirming anything just to pleasure a male companion, as most ladies did in his time. As he did the previous night, Mr. Darcy admired her beauty, but now his admiration had also been extended to her fierce personality and her authenticity.

  At first, he had considered her laughs vulgar, but now, after observing other citizens from that century, he had learned not only to accept her laugh as natural, but to admire its spontaneity.

  Had she been a lady from his own century, many gentlemen might fear to marry her for her fierceness, which most would confuse with stubbornness and even arrogance. Not Mr. Darcy, though. He would have recognized her for what she was: his perfect match.

  Yet, Miss Nathalie Estevez Brown could never be his perfect match, for they were over two hundred years apart. Truly, she was standing right beside him at that moment, but that would not – it could not – last. He would soon return to 1811, and Mr. Ethan Estevez Brown would be back to his own time.

  And that would be the end of that.

  Still, as they entered the garden of her house, he could not stop himself from thanking her for the day. Not only that; he was bold enough to bent slightly, take her ungloved hand, and kiss it.

  Perhaps she had not realized, since ladies from this time didn’t seem to bother much about covering their skin, but that was the second time their skins had touched. As he led her to the tiny dancing space at the party, he’d taken her hand, and it had felt like fire had traveled in his veins. During the dance, however, he’d been careful enough never to touch her skin, and had done the same thing that entire Sunday.

  Nevertheless, the more he watched Miss Nathalie, the more he desired to touch her silky, olive skin again. As he observed touching had become a much more common habit amongst people in that time, he had unconsciously come to the conclusion she wouldn’t be offended by another touch, as long as it remained civil.

  As he removed his lips from her hand, he moved his head up to observe her reaction to his forwardness. She looked surprised, but otherwise calm. A hint of smile played her lips as she said, “Are you always acting, Darcy?”

  “Not always, Nathalie”, he answered seriously.

  That time, she didn’t laugh, and his lips remembered her skin for the rest of the night.

  ♥

  Chapter 7

  When Nat was having classes, she worked at the bookstore only when neither Grandma nor her husband, Mike, were available.

  Her mother believed in hard work, but she also comprehended Nat’s classes were demanding. Besides, her daughter had to invest many extra hours in order to maintain her partial scholarship at NYU, which was considerable. She had to dedicate herself to a few projects each semester to keep it.

  Therefore, it was decided that, unlike her brother, Nat would only work full time at her family’s businesses when she was on school vacation. The period she should be resting, only not.

  In any case, her brother shared that burden with her, which was the least he could do, according to his mother, since he’d dropped out of college after starting a skate business. Bobby had had a full scholarship for being in the soccer team at Columbia. At the end, he’d sold out his business to a national store chain for a couple of hundred thousand dollars and decided (without asking his parents first, his mother reminded him almost daily) he didn’t need the extra education, after all.

  Why he had not left his parents’ house, one might ask. First of all, Bobby loved his dad’s food. Second, he loathed doing his laundry, and he knew Anna would refuse to do it for him in case they moved in together. Thir
d, his mom never minded doing his laundry. And fourth, he didn’t mind working at his folks’ businesses.

  Between July and August, all employees from the restaurant took turns having some time off. Besides, it was the same period Grandma and Mike went on a romantic trip to renew their vows every year. So, it was up to Nathalie and Bobby to substitute all of them.

  Which normally meant they worked double shifts almost every day of the week.

  That particular Thursday, the first day of August, was supposed to be Nat’s first night off the entire week, and she had made plans to go out on double date with Doug, Patty and Peter, someone the violinist had just met while buying groceries.

  Nathalie had already showered and was drying her hair when her father knocked on her door.

  “Nat… I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but I’ll need you tonight.” He hated to do that. If there was enough time, he’d have hired someone else, but his clients were already beginning to arrive. “Jessica called in sick…”

  “Again?” Nat put the hairdryer on her stylish vintage dressing table. She wasn’t a big fan of makeup, but she loved to have ancient-looking things. Plus, it was the perfect piece of furniture to keep her many oils (she had what Bobby called an unhealthy obsession with her skin) and her hair products.

  She stared at her father in the mirror, her eyes reflecting the disappointment she felt. Nat hadn’t seen Doug since the previous Wednesday; before meeting the enigmatic Darcy.

  The whole family had fallen head over heels for the guy. Since Monday, he’d been helping the siblings with the bookstore, which had enabled Nat and Bobby to work only eight hours a day, instead of twelve. However, Nat felt he’d been avoiding her since Sunday. He wouldn’t talk to her unless they were accompanied, and whenever they crossed paths at the apartment, he averted her eyes.

  It’s for the best, Nathalie told herself. They’d had many almost-moments the past weekend.

  “Mr. Estevez”, a thunderous voice said, surprising her, and Nat saw Darcy’s shadow just outside her door.

  “It’s Carlos, Darcy. And you can come in.”

  The gentleman took insecure steps into Nathalie’s room. In his entire life, he had only visited two ladies’ rooms: his sister’s and his mother’s. Entering the room of a lady who wasn’t family – and most particularly, Nathalie’s room – felt like a violation. Yet, he’d been very curious to see it.

  Its walls were painted in a light blue tone, except for the wall on his left, which was lined with bookshelves, and a study desk facing it. A large window on the back wall had a street view, and under it was Nathalie’s bed. For a split of second, a thought occurred to him, making him blush deeply; he imagined how he’d fit in it with her.

  He shook his head and took in the rest of the room; against the right wall, sat a great white armoire, which seemed to be in the same style as his sister’s, along with the dressing table where Nathalie sat, just beside the door. Her father stood behind her.

  Nathalie’s hair was humid, her lips parted, her eyes brilliant. Darcy looked away before she could guess the thoughts that had reentered his mind. His eyes moved to his host’s, and he said, “Excuse me for my intrusion, Carlos, but I would like to volunteer to take Miss Brown’s place tonight at the restaurant.”

  Father and daughter were silent for a moment, then Nathalie said, “Are you serious? You’ve worked all day long at the bookstore!”

  “So have you”, he answered simply. “It is no trouble, Nathalie.” Her name tasted like honey in his tongue. He knew calling her by her first name did not only affect him; it affected her too. As if they shared a secret, a smile formed on their lips, and he knew he had succeeded. She would accept help, something she didn’t do effortlessly, he knew.

  “I guess it’s settled, then”, Carlos announced, putting a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. I felt terrible about ruining Nat’s evening out. She hasn’t had many of those lately, you know?”

  Carlos left the room, leaving Darcy and Nathalie alone in it. The door was wide open, but Darcy felt nervous and anxious; one thing was entering a lady’s room with her father as chaperone; another completely different was standing unaccompanied with a lady wearing only her bath robe, specially a woman as handsome as Miss Brown.

  Darcy did what he did best in those circumstances; he cleared his throat.

  Nathalie stood up and walked toward him. Darcy cleared his throat again. She faced him and offered another smile; then, with no warning, she hugged him.

  “Thanks, Darcy”, her mouth almost touched his ear as she spoke, making his neck hair go up.

  “You are most welcome, Nathalie”, he told her, as his arms slowly held her too.

  ♥

  Nat

  “It’s amazing how much damage a simple piece of gorgonzola cheese made. I swear to you, I didn’t leave the toilet at all that weekend. I even took some pictures, if you don’t believe me.”

  “We believe you, alright!”, Doug thankfully said before Patty’s date could show us the “damage”. Oh, she knew how to choose them. The worst of them.

  Peter Parker was really proud of his name, making the most humorless Spider Man jokes the whole night. When he ran out of jokes, we were relieved, believing we could finally have a normal conversation. That was when he began explaining in pretty specific – and pretty disgusting – details all his allergies.

  “So, what do you do for a living?”, I asked, praying that, whatever he did, would be a conversation topic less horrible than the food poisoning he’d suffered a few weeks before.

  “I’m an accountant. I know it must sound boring, but it can be quite exciting, I can assure you.” He winked at Patty, who looked even more annoyed than I felt.

  “Well, this is the last time I accept going out with a guy I met at a supermarket”, she complained when Peter went to the bathroom, after telling us the bread had made him feel puffy.

  “Do not expect me back at the table any time soon”, he’d told us, his right hand protectively over his stomach, while he walked away, “This will take a while.”

  Ugh.

  “And this is the last time we go out with you on a double date”, I told her.

  “Be easy on her, Nat”, Doug said with a smile before kissing my cheek.

  “She’s right, Doug… This is her only night off this week and I drag the two of you to the most awkward date in History.” Patty looked sad, making me feel guilty.

  “It’s not your fault, Patty”, I assured her, putting my hand over hers. “Just make sure you never date a guy with a superhero name again.”

  “You’re being cute now”, she smiled at me, stood up and left the table, “I’m going to get another drink. Would you like another one too, Nat?”

  “Sure. Who knows what Peter Parker will talk about next?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot; I was thinking about spending this weekend at the Hamptons. Would you like to come along?”

  “I could work it out at the station”, Doug said and turned to me, “What about you, Nat?”

  His brown eyes were hopeful. It had been several weeks since we’d spent an entire weekend together. For the first time that night, I took my time admiring him; I wasn’t with Doug for his physical attributes, but he was certainly a very agreeable man to look at. He was the complete set of women’s fantasy about cops: blond hair, tanned skin, broad shoulders, a square jaw and that tough look detectives from TV always had.

  During our self- defense classes, many women tried getting his attention, but he maintained a professional posture, without ever been anything but polite. Even his colleagues from the police force made fun of him; they said he’d broken many female witnesses’ hearts over the years.

  “Well…” What fun was there without the suspense? “Dad’s planning on having an infiltration problem fixed at the restaurant this weekend, so it will be closed down… The
n… I guess I can make it!”

  “Great! Will Bobby and Annie be able to make it too?” Patty was genuinely excited. I couldn’t understand why Fanny refused to cut her any slack.

  “Oh, I’m sure they will. Even if they have to kidnap Patricia to do so.” Doug joked, and we all agreed. Bobby never hid the fact he loved Patty’s mansion at the Hamptons.

  “By the way, your guest, Darcy, is invited too. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Holy flocking seat!

  “What guest, Nat?” Yeah, I hadn’t told my boyfriend about Darcy yet. Before you judge me, I hadn’t seen Doug in over a week, way before Darcy’s arrival. Telling your boyfriend a gorgeous British actor slash gentleman was sleeping just across the hall from your room was the kind of thing one must tell personally. And alone.

  “Oh, he’s just a friend of Ethan’s. We’re helping him out.” I tried to play the there’s-nothing-to-worry-about angle. His pursed lips and narrowed eyes told me he wasn’t buying it.

  “You’re helping a stranger out by letting him stay at your house?” He was in his detective-but-still-your-boyfriend mode. Oh, no.

  “Technically, it’s not my house, it’s my Grandmother’s. And it was my dad’s decision to take in a guest, not mine.” It was the truth. Not the whole truth, though.

  “Did you say guest?” Yep, Peter returned to our table at that moment. The only good thing he did that whole evening. Doug looked like he was about to punch anyone crazy enough to annoy him. “My roommate got a “guest” a few months ago. The idiot was a freak! He’d drink the milk from the box, he’d go out without ironing his shirt, he’d even eat in his bed (which was actually our sofa bed)…”

  Needless to say he spent the rest of the evening telling us how traumatic the guest experience had been. At some point, I wondered how Darcy was handling his waiter duties.

  ♥

  Bobby

  I should have predicted Darcy-dude would be a major hit at the restaurant. Dad’s regulars wouldn’t stop calling him and Anna to compliment Darcy and his manners, while the new customers were having a blast, especially the older women.