From Pemberley to Manhattan

by Laís Rodrigues

  “NO!”, Bobby interrupted her. I hadn’t even heard them coming. Anna was beside him, while Darcy was observing his surroundings. “We’ll all sleep separately; girls can keep the rooms with the king size beds, of course.”

  WHAT THE FLOG?!?!

  “WHAT THE F–” Fanny did the favor to ask, and I could’ve hi-fived her if I weren’t completely focused on Robert Estevez Brown’s throat right now. If I needed something this weekend was to spend some dot-dot-dot time with Doug. And stay far away from Darcy, of course.

  “No need to curse, Fanny.” Bobby interrupted again. Then he turned back to Patty, who looked completely lost. “Look, Patty. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t approve an orgy at your house.”

  “Orgy?!”, Patty’s voice was almost hysterical. I was fuming; Anna had murderer eyes; Fanny was practically foaming. Why was she so pissed? She didn’t have a boyfriend here, and the only single man she could share her bed with was… Ah, right.

  Suddenly, a part of me I didn’t recognize began cheering that Bobby would convince Patty. Just the thought of Fanny and Darcy together made me want to punch something.

  “Yes, you’re right, I guess.” Patty finally concluded. “Mom and Dad would’ve preferred it if the couples slept in separate room…” She offered us a sympathetic look. I wondered why Doug didn’t look enraged at all, until he approached me and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, babe. I’m very good at sneaking in…”

  Again, my own inner voice shocked me, for I wished I had heard that promise from another man. One with a thunderous voice…

  ♥

  Chapter 9

  It all began as Nathalie decided to confront his boyfriend about his promise earlier. Doug had guaranteed he would find a way to infiltrate her bedroom, the promised land. She wore her sexy, pink lace nightie, and waited for him. Waited until she began daydreaming about Darcy’s deep blue eyes staring at her, about his soft, puffy lips kissing every inch of her skin, about how proportional he must be and, if so, how impressive his–

  Nathalie Estevez Brown! Control you flocking self!

  She took a deep, ragged breath, and decided that if the mountain would not come to Muhammad then Muhammad must go to the mountain…

  Making a long, embarrassing story short: Nathalie sneaked into her boyfriend’s bedroom, only to find him fast asleep. Not able to make herself sleep (you know, being frustrated and thinking of Mr. Darcy proportionality and all), she went downstairs to the game room. Besides the heated pool and the ocean view, it was her favorite feature of the mansion.

  There was a beige carpet in the middle of the room covering part of the hardwood floors. On the right side, there was a pool table and a shooting target behind it. On the back wall, there was a huge plasma TV, with a last generation home theater system. Right under the windows at her left, there were two leather armchairs with a coffee table between them. Facing the TV, against the front wall, there was a light brown, three seater sofa.

  In that couch, looking adorably comfortable, was Darcy. Alone. All by himself. Just him, and his puffy lips, and his deep blue eyes. Oh, and his British accent. And, of course, the baritone voice.

  “Can’t sleep either?”, she demanded softly as he noticed her presence.

  Mr. Darcy didn’t answer. Instead, all he did was stare at her as if she were a ghost. Marilyn Monroe’s ghost, for the way his eyes were burning as he analyzed her inch by inch. Only then she remembered what she was wearing. Her Victoria’s Secret nightie.

  ♥

  “Darcy?!” The stress in her voice drew his attention back to her face. For a moment, he imagined he had fallen asleep in the game room, and was shamelessly dreaming about Miss Nathalie in her undergarments, something that had happened before during that week. “What are you doing down here?”

  However, this time she was real. Still staring into his eyes, probably reading his desire in them, she sat by his side in the couch and hid part of her cleavage by hugging a pillow. It didn’t help, since Mr. Darcy had his memory to tell him how perfect she looked underneath that pillow.

  He cleared his throat. Once, twice, three times. Finally, he found his voice again. “Your brother was so kind to offer me poison to eat.” Nathalie couldn’t identify the sarcasm in his tone, but she was sure it was there. After all, her brother wouldn’t hurt Darcy. Right? “Gladly, Miss Anna had been mistaken; it was not a deadly poison. Still, it did make me feel rather ill. So I am not in a position to sleep.”

  “Right”, Nathalie didn’t have many options for conversation topics at two A.M., so she used the easier one, “So, what do you think of the house?”

  “It is acceptable”, he replied seriously, looking around the room.

  Nathalie chuckled, already feeling less ashamed, then glanced at the TV. “What are you watching, anyway?”

  Darcy simply shrugged. He had no idea, neither did he care. Clearly, he was far more interested in what was going on in that couch. Avoiding his stare, Nat watched the movie for a few minutes before recognizing it.

  “The killers”, she affirmed automatically.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She found the movie mediocre at best. But it had become a classic for two main reasons: it was the last cinematographic production in which Ronald Reagan had last acted before becoming President. And the only one he’d ever played the villain.

  “Do you recognize that actor?”, she pointed at the much younger version of the face that would later become one of the most famous in the world.

  “I believe I have never been introduced to him”, he considered, “and there’s no reason for me to make his acquaintance, since the man is a scoundrel.”

  Nathalie just loved his sarcastic remarks; she knew not many people would understand his jokes. “Yeah, and the whole Iran-Contra Affair didn’t help his reputation much, either”, she remarked, still chuckling a little.

  Again, Darcy was lost to the meaning of Miss Nathalie’s statement. However, she’d mentioned it as a well-known piece of information; so he decided to proceed as if he comprehended all. Robert had advised him to do so. Therefore, he nodded as if he shared her opinion, and she went on.

  “I never liked him much.” Nathalie continued, “He was one of my least favorite Presidents.”

  “President? Do you mean this scoundrel led your country?”, Darcy couldn’t hold himself back. She was already looking at him suspiciously, when he stupidly decided to continue, “How could gentlemen vote for a man with no honor?”

  “Well, as much as it hurts me to admit, he was elected by the ladies, too”, she said after laughing, again bemused by his smart humor. However, his following observation would be anything but funny to her.

  “Are ladies allowed to vote now?”

  ♥

  Nat

  If it was a joke, I couldn’t see the amusement in it. I’d allowed our Brit guest to joke about a former US President, especially because it was one who I didn’t admire much, but mentioning the sisterhood like that? Oh, he was playing with fire now.

  But I’d give him the vote of confidence and would wait patiently – and anxiously – to hear the rest of his opinion. So, in response to his question, I just nodded.

  “I believe allowing ladies to vote was a very sensible decision. Some of the ladies I am acquainted with are far better at judging other people’s characters than most gentlemen.” Yeah, tell me something new, Darcy. “For instance, I rely on your opinion much more than your brother’s.”

  “That’s not much of a compliment, Darcy.” That time, it was me who made him laugh. If his voice was irresistible, his laugh was addictive, like great wine: I knew it would make me lose my balance if I had too much of it, but I couldn’t stop myself from desiring to taste it.

  “Well, I can see why you wouldn’t take that as a compliment, even though I admire your brother much, and consider him a friend. I was
merely stating a fact: you are one of the brightest persons I have ever had the pleasure of meeting”, he used brightest, me and pleasure in the same sentence. I almost lost my panties there and then.

  I lost a few words he said imagining-slash-dreaming-slash-wishing about all things Darcy would do to the pantyless version of me. Then I got a hold of myself, slapped the slutty side of my persona (one that I much enjoyed sometimes, but not under those circumstances), and kept listening.

  “Indeed, you have employed your time very well.” What was he talking about again? Oh, how amazingly bright I was. I wanted to jump all over him so bad. Stop it, Nat! “Any person who had the privilege to hear you would most certainly agree with me. I wish my sister had heard you last Thursday.”

  Last Thursday? Was he talking about my project? I’d been discussing it so passionately with Dad I hadn’t realized Darcy had been paying attention… That or I’d been yelling so loud he’d have no other choice but listen.

  I was having an argument with Dad, because of a project I had with some friends to organize a program for college students who were sexually abused by university colleagues. And there were many, if you were wondering. We wanted to conduct studies, have meetings, offer those women legal and psychological support, among other basic things that our over expensive universities had the means to but didn’t care enough to grant them.

  So we had begun looking for funding. So far, we were failing miserable: no company wanted to have a disagreement with some of the most powerful institutions in the country.

  “The university could retaliate against you. And you’ve already heard “no” so many times. Why don’t you leave it be?” My Dad, worried about my academic future, asked.

  “This is where you’re mistaken, dad. You think getting the project financed is the most important thing”, I told him.

  “Isn’t it?”, he was confused.

  “The most important thing for these women – who have been abandoned by the ones they trusted, who have been judged by society, who have been treated as villains instead of victims – is knowing someone is willing to fight for them. So I do it. Again and again. Forever, if necessary. Because, for me, that’s what living is truly about: fighting for what matters to you.”

  “You’re so right, honeybun”, Dad said. “But will you keep insisting, even if you hear nothing but “no”? What if nobody accepts to support your project financially?”

  “It’s true that a “yes” can change someone’s life, but I believe only a “no” can change us. I mean, when you hear a “no” you can give up and move on. Or you can put yourself back together and try again. And, the more you try, the stronger you get. If you’re tough enough, you might still be on your feet when you finally hear the “yes” you’ve wanted for so long. So, to answer your question, I’ll be on my two feet for as long as it takes to get the financing we need, Dad. There are many women counting on us, and it really matters to them if we never give up.”

  Mom and Anna smiled at me with pride, and Bobby was swallowing hard, fighting back his emotions. He knew what it was like to be judged by society; to be forced to behave in a certain way to fit what they thought it was correct. Bobby, in his own unique way, had fought society’s rules. And so did I. Every day, if necessary.

  I was pretty philosophical that night. I’d had a few more glasses of wine than usually. I was inspired, and talking about a subject that moved me much. Darcy was in the room too, staring at the TV. I thought he was ignoring our discussion, but apparently, I’d been mistaken about him.

  Yet again.

  Now he was talking about that evening and how he’d like me to meet his… Wait a sec! Darcy had a… “You’ve got a sister?”

  “Yes. Georgiana Darcy.”

  “Oh.” A very peculiar name, but I guessed that was common in his family. It kind of suited what I imagined his sister would be like, though. Was she still in England? “Where’s she?”

  “Now?” I nodded. He considered that question for a moment, as if it was a difficult one. Perhaps they weren’t close siblings, and hadn’t spoken in long. Whatever it was, the thought made him sad. He had those puppy eyes as he explained, “Well, I suppose she is dead.”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry Darcy.” I couldn’t believe I’d been so unfeeling. Of course she was dead! He’d mentioned her only once in a week, and did it with such love and sadness that it should have been obvious if I weren’t so focused on… All things Darcy.

  “I thank you.” He offered me a small smile. “I imagine you would be intimate friends, had you had the chance to be introduced. Georgiana was always very shy, but a great judger of character, and you are the most fascinating woman I have ever known.”

  His words invaded my ears and traveled through my body, leaving a trail of heat wherever it passed. He said it with such a sincerity to make it the best line ever. Actually, Darcy was the kind of man that made everything sound like good old flirting. Yet, somehow, without sounding cliché at all.

  Instinctively I moved closer to him. Now, our thighs were touching, and that part of my body was burning like fire. I stared back at him, only to be mesmerized; his lips were parted, his pupils were dilated, his breathing was shallow. He wanted the same thing I did. His face was suddenly above mine, so I moved my head back and closed my eyes.

  And waited for the inevitable.

  ♥

  Chapter 10

  Nat

  His lips came crushing down on mine, so warm and soft that all reality around me melted away. There was nothing but the link between us, the connection of our mouths. I opened myself to him, and couldn’t help the moan that left my throat when his tongue invaded my mouth with such a desire that made my whole body burn.

  My hands were all over him, as his were all over me. I felt his velvet hair through my fingers, then moved them down, to his broad shoulders. Next, my hands were on his strong chest and slipping down, until they found the hem of his shirt and pulled it up.

  A woman I didn’t know lived in me buried my nails into his back, making him growl with painful pleasure. My hair was tied around his wrists, pulling my head back, giving him full access to my neck and my cleavage.

  He was in control then, making trails of kisses from the base of my neck to my chest, but never exactly where I wanted him to kiss – where I needed him to kiss.

  “Please, kiss me.” I whispered. He knew what I meant: I could feel him smile against my collarbone. The bastard.

  Darcy retreated from my skin so he could stare into my eyes. His were full of lust and awe, as if he couldn’t believe he had me in his arms, which made me want him even more. In a look, he asked me for permission. Couldn’t he see the obvious? He didn’t need my authorization; I was his.

  Yet, his concern was respectful and adorable, so I decided to thank him for that. I stood up and moved in front of him. His eyes never left me, always searching my body, always admiring, always finding something new to appreciate.

  I pulled the straps of my nightie off my shoulders, and the dress fell around my feet, leaving me with nothing but my lace bra and panties. He sucked in a breath nervously. For a moment, he was paralyzed, just watching, appreciating the new discovered inches of skin.

  All of a sudden, he stood up, grabbed my legs, and placed me on the pool table. My legs wrapped around his waist, locking him close, and I arched my back, again leaving him in control. He unclasped my bra with one hand, while the other was exploring my inner thigh, and his lips were softly traveling through the places my bra was hiding before.

  He took my mouth again, and this time his kisses weren’t just passionate; they were desperate. He took a step back, and I immediately missed his touch. His deep, blue eyes never moving away from mine, he took off his pants and carried me out of the room, up the stairs.

  Not caring where he was taking me, I planted kisses on his neck and bit his ear teasingly, making him m
oan. “You better behave for a little longer. At least, until I take you to your room, Nathalie.” He pleaded in his baritone voice. No one called me Nathalie, but the name sounded like a sexual caress from his lips.

  He threw me in my bed, then hovered over me. We were so lost in each other we didn’t even notice there was someone there, in the shadows, watching us, waiting for us in an armchair.

  “Welcome”, the intruder announced coldly.

  My mouth went dry and my blood, which had been boiling, froze over. Holy sheet! Doug had literally caught us with our pants (and bra) down. At least my panties were still on. For now.

  Darcy gently helped me get on my feet, picked up a towel I’d left on the bed earlier, and threw it over my shoulders, covering my upper feminine parts, as if I were a damsel in distress who’d just been about to lose her virginity.

  Yeah, right.

  “Shall we go outside for a moment, Mr. Brooks?”, Darcy politely invited. I couldn’t believe how dignified he looked in his underwear; it seemed like they were about to quarrel over stolen chicken.

  I was no flocking chicken!

  “It’s Detective Brooks”, Doug corrected, his eyes black with rage. “And I’m going to stay right here.” He finished between gritted teeth, his hand slowly taking his pistol from its holster.

  Uh-oh. Perhaps I did want to be a chicken right now.

  I couldn’t help placing myself in front of Darcy when the gun was pointed at him. It was all so fast; the bullet leaving the barrel, the pressure against my chest, making me fall on my back, Doug and Darcy’s voices calling for me, the darkness swallowing me swiftly, but surely.

  “NOOOO!” I opened my eyes.

  ♥

  Nat

  There had been no kissing. No stripping. No melting away in each other. No moaning. And, thankfully, no shooting.

  I put on my light green string bikini (and, before your dirty minds start conjecturing, it was not thong-like), a white beach dress over it, and went to the kitchen feeling my heart pounding fast against my ribs.