From Pemberley to Manhattan

by Laís Rodrigues

  “My dears!” Grandma was an American version of Julie Andrews: brilliant blue eyes, rosy cheeks, blond hair, and porcelain skin. Mom looked a lot like her, but I’d just inherited some of her delicate features. My parents loved to brag about my brothers’ and my looks to their friends. They used to say we were a perfect blend of the two families.

  Grandma’s parents had been Brits, but they’d come to the States when her mother was still pregnant. Grandma had married a sexist, possessive Navy officer, who I would hate if he weren’t biological related to me. And if he hadn’t been essential to give me Mom, who was almost as amazing as Grandma. After he passed away, she’d finally found her freedom and happiness. I adored her.

  My biological grandfather hadn’t approved Mom dating Dad, since he was a Mexican descendent. Before his body was cold though, Grandma had already put together their wedding. Yep, Grandma rocked!

  “I was so worried about you!” She came running to us, holding Bobby and me in one of her magical bear hugs. “The weather man has been reporting all day there’s a terrible storm coming! It’s supposed to be the strongest in the last twenty years in New York, and I was going nuts with worry and–”

  She saw Darcy and, all of a sudden, she forgot all about her dearest grandchildren, her beloved husband and the fact she could be Darcy’s grandma!

  “Hello, there.” She introduced herself, using her sexy voice. Yes, my grandmother had a sexy version of her sweet voice. As a matter of fact, she used hers more often than I used mine. I never minded before; I was actually very proud of having such a lively Grandma, but this was Darcy we were talking about! “You must be Fitz Darcy. I’m Julia Brown.”

  She offered him her hand, which he politely took and kissed softly. Oh, I wish I were that hand! Stop it, Nathalie! As if the hand kissing hadn’t been enough, he then smiled adorably to her, and only to her. “Thank you for allowing me to stay in your home. And I apologize for imposing so.”

  “Oh, you are so adorable!” Grandma was flushing. Unbelievable. “And lucky I’m a married woman! If I were single and a few years younger…”

  “Just a few?” I couldn’t believe my mouth had just pronounced the words. I would never, ever say such a rude thing to Grandma. She was more than right to glare at me as she was doing now.

  “Where’s that boyfriend of yours, Nathalie?” Oh, she was a pro at that game. Good for you, Grandma! I’d totally deserved that retort. I was about to come up with a smart reply, when we heard a loud thunder and the lights went out.

  ♥

  Bobby

  It felt like the world had stopped spinning, time itself had denied moving forward, like all colors had turned into shades of boring gray. No, I wasn’t being a Mr. Whiny. You should try living two whole days in a blackout, with no electricity, no Netflix, no Instagram, no Facebook and, most importantly, no nude pics from Anna!

  I. Was. Pissed.

  For the first time ever, I was anxious to go back to work at the restaurant and the bookstore. As all things could always get worse, the night before a huge lighting storm had fried the Met’s generator, and my Mom was freaking out because she feared something might happen to the art collection.

  I wished Darcy was right and each of us had rooms in the plural, instead of a room in the singular. I’d gotten tired of my ceiling, my posters, my bed, my window, my view. I’d been so bored that same morning I’d even started reading one of Nat’s novels! I must’ve been going out of my mind, honestly. Someone call Oprah! Or Dr. Phil! Both would be best.

  My family and I had spent the last couple of days looking at each other’s faces (I was getting tired of those, too) and eating everything in our refrigerators. Both our house’s and the restaurant’s, so none of it would go to waste.

  To be fair, we’d distributed lots of food to the homeless people we’d taken in. They’d been sleeping in the restaurant, so they’d be protected from the unforgiving storm. Still, there was a lot of food.

  Basically, I was too bored, too full, and sleepless. What did I decide to do, one might ask? Smoke pot, obviously. I left my room and moped around, until I found myself facing the glass double doors that lead to the balcony. Since the rain had ceased for a couple of hours, it would be nice getting some fresh air. I opened the doors and took a step outside. The air was humid and refreshing, and I considered myself an idiot for not thinking of the balcony before.

  Apparently, someone had beaten me to it: Darcy was outside, watching the sky.

  ♥

  “You know”, Darcy told his friend as he leaned on the rail beside the gentleman, “this is the first time since I came to this century that I have a routine similar to the one in my own present time, even though my surroundings are still extremely modified.”

  “Then your time must be really boring, dude.” Bobby sighed sadly, making a half-smile appear on Darcy’s lips. He was becoming attached to Robert and his family, no matter how inopportune he knew those feelings to be.

  “It is not boring, Robert.” Darcy countered serenely. “Not for me. It is a comfortable rhythm of life for me. In this time of yours I feel as if everyone around me moves faster, and I am always searching for a way to…”

  “Catch up with us?”, Bobby helped.

  “Yes, I believe that is the precise expression for what I mean to convey. Events were happening with such a speed I found myself with no time to read, no time to study the hundreds of years I’ve missed. For instance, in the last few days, I took the liberty of reading one of your brother’s books, only to discover mankind has found its way to the moon.”

  “Yeah, like decades ago”, Bobby chuckled, once more realizing how old Darcy was in theory. And in History, too.

  “To me, it is much more than a century ahead”, Darcy calculated, his eyes never leaving the moon. “My sister would have been most curious to read about it. She was always fascinated by the stars.”

  “Oh”, Bobby recalled Nat’s words, “I’m truly sorry about your sis, Fitz. Nat told me about her passing.”

  Darcy didn’t understand his friend’s sorrow for a bit, until he remembered that particular conversation with Miss Nathalie. “No, Robert. Georgiana, my sister, is hopefully alive and well in my present time. What I told your sister is that Georgiana is not alive now. In your time.”

  “It’s your time too, man. At least for now…” Watching Fitz face closely, Bobby noticed there was anxiety in it. More than the usual amount, that was. “You’re worried about Georgiana, aren’t you? I’ve seen how protective you can get with the gals.” Bobby amusingly evoked the image of Darcy covering girls up with towels back in the Hamptons.

  “She’s too young. Too innocent.” Darcy’s eyes left the skies and went directly to his friend’s. “A little while ago (considering my present time, of course), she almost ran away and married in secret a deceitful man. She would have ruined her reputation had I not been there to reason with her. He was a disgrace of a man who does not even deserve to be called a gentleman! And to think I once considered him one of my closest friends… He tricked her into believing he loved her, seduced her so she would love him, and, in the end, left her, devastated.”

  Suddenly, all was clear to Bobby. “So that’s why you won’t make a move on Nat! You don’t want her to go through what your sister went through! You don’t want her to fall for you then lose you when you go back to 1811!” He stared at Fitz with admiration. “That’s really considerate of you, man. Few fellas would’ve done the same.”

  The gentleman was quiet for a moment, not sure how to respond, too tired to deny it. Then he saw something in Robert’s hand that left him curious, besides being a good excuse to change the unnerving subject called Miss Nathalie Estevez Brown. “What is that?”

  Bobby had forgotten all about the joint he’d brought from his bedroom. “It’s like this… Herb… Weed… People from now smoke. You know? We dudes… gentlemen… get tog
ether and smoke while we talk about stuff?”

  “Interesting. Is it similar to cigars?”

  “Yeah, sure…” What else could Bobby have said?

  “May I have one? I miss smoking a cigar.”

  “Sure, but in this century we share them.” That would be truly interesting, Bobby considered.

  ♥

  Nat

  “Things are crazy down here at the station”, Doug stated the obvious. He was working himself to the bone since the blackout, still he found time to call me and check out if we needed anything. I’d been avoiding using my phone, so its battery could last longer. It was worth using my last 2% of battery talking things over with Doug, though. “I wish I could go there and talk, Nat. I hate arguing with you.”

  “I know, me too”, I was being honest. I hated how we’d left things at the Hamptons. “But you don’t have to worry about me, okay? You and I are fine. Just go do your thing.”

  As if I were guessing trouble was near, I heard someone yell his name on the other side of the line. “Sorry, Nat. I’ve gotta go. Love you.”

  He hung up before I could say it back. Since the blackout, New York had become a modern version of the Old West, crimes had hiked and the police force was going nuts to control the robberies. D.C. had even sent the Army, according to Doug. Thinking non-stop about Doug’s safety, I just couldn’t sleep, turning in bed annoyingly. So I pushed back the cover and left my bed.

  Deciding to get myself some milk, I went to the kitchen ninja quiet so I wouldn’t wake anyone. The lack of electricity had many side effects, one of which was making the city that never sleeps dead quiet. I felt like if I screamed “hello”, someone in Brooklyn might hear me out.

  I almost yelled for help when I saw a dark figure leaning against the kitchen island, but I soon recognized its owner: Darcy. Not only him, but this was a shirtless Darcy. Black hair dripping wet. Eyes wide. Mouth full of… Chantilly?

  I spent a few moments daydreaming about licking that Chantilly off his full lips, before I mentally kicked myself where the sun does not shine and returned to reality.

  A reality with a wet, half-naked Darcy.

  Oh, my sweet Rosemary baby!

  “Darcy”, I called when I got control of my voice, “What do you think you are doing?!” As he looked at me, his blue eyes widened further, and he smiled broadly. Then he took a few steps closer, and I noticed something the candlelight hadn’t made it possible to see from afar: his eyes were reddish.

  “My Nat!”, he exclaimed passionately, a lot louder than necessary. I remembered being about to ask him something, something related to his red eyes and strange behavior, but my thoughts melted away when he called me by my nickname with so much desire in his voice. It sounded like he hadn’t seen me years, and had missed every second away. Wow.

  Before I could move, both his hands were touching me; one was caressing my cheek, the other holding me close to him by the nape of the neck. “My Nat! You smell divine! My deepest desire is to smell that on my bed every morning!” WHAT?! Mr. Perfectly Behaved Darcy was inviting me to his bed? And I was not denying?

  His hand surprised me again by moving gingerly from my cheek to my mouth, while his head hovered closer to my face. I could feel his breath on my face now. He was smelling of Chantilly, of course, but there was another distinct odor as well. Was it… Pot? No way! Was he high?

  “Darcy”, I forced my way out of his reach, which made the parts of my skin he’d been touching itch for his hands to be back, “did you smoke something?”

  “As a matter of fact, I shared a smoke with your brother. We were having a gentlemanly conversation.” He didn’t seem to enjoy the distance between us either, and took a step closer. I took another one away from him, even though a part of my mind (the wicked part) kept begging me to just relax and get lost in his arms.

  “Oh, really? What exactly did you smoke with my brother during your ‘gentlemen chit chat’?”, I made air quotes with my fingers, since it was ridiculous.

  “A cigar called marijuana.” I knew it! Bobby was so busted! “It is from a very respectful place called Pot.”

  Wow, Darcy must have smoked a lot, because he was making no sense whatsoever.

  “You are the handsomest woman I have ever beheld.” A statement like that would have sounded like bullsheet from anyone, but him. I could hear the emotion in his voice, see the desire in his eyes, and feel the heat from his skin.

  My eyes were leveled with his torso, and now I was staring directly at his chest. He had broad shoulders, a lean waist and hairy chest. I swear I could feel that hair under my fingers, that was how desperately I wanted to touch it, touch him. I bit back the desire and glanced back to his eyes. Big mistake. Huge.

  He held my face with both his hands and came closer. When his lips were about to touch mine, the electricity returned. And, along with it, my neurons.

  I moved away, wished him good night, and left the kitchen without turning back.

  ♥

  Chapter 14

  Nat

  Even though I’d slept really late, I was fully awaken by six A.M. Feeling in desperate (and guilty) need of talking to Doug, I decided that, now the power was back on, it was time to drop by his house.

  Since I had a copy of his keys, he didn’t even need to be at home. I’d wait all day if necessary. I couldn’t tell which I needed the most: to spend some time with my boyfriend or some time Darcyless.

  I put on a pair of blue jeans and a Rolling Stones black T-shirt and left my room. Darcy was passed out on our couch, his shirt was mercifully back on, and his cheeks had the cutest shade of pink.

  “Let’s get moving, Nathalie Estevez Brown!” A little voice in my head scolded.

  Doug lived in a two-bedroom apartment he’d rented from a dear uncle that charged him less than half the market value rent. It was in a five-story red-bricked building, on the corner of Lexington Avenue and 106th Street. About a twenty-minute walk. Just what I needed.

  The city was still remarkably silent, only a few runners and some people returning home after partying all night. It was a little past seven when I walked past St. Cecilia Parish, an imposing construction with Romanesque style and ornate brick and terra-cotta façade. Doug’s building was right after it, almost as impressive.

  One of the things I loved the most about New York: the mixture of style, history, and architecture.

  I climbed the stairs to his apartment feeling reinvigorated and excited, the whole Darcy thing practically evaporated from my mind. Okay, that was a lie, but I did feel better.

  Silently, I opened the door of apartment 3A and let myself in Doug’s home. As expected, it was a royal mess; shirts were hanged over the back of the dinner table chairs, piles of plates were in the sink, shoes were spread on the wooden floor. Poor guy had been working long hours at the precinct.

  The place smelled of cigarettes and beer; another indication Doug had been having a rough time at his job, since he avoided smoking on a daily basis. I bit back a laugh when I noticed even his precious LED HDTV had clothes thrown over it. Doug had spent an entire month salary in his home theater system, so when he treated it as any other piece of furniture, one could be sure he wasn’t alright.

  Facing his beloved TV, there was his uncle’s very chic dark grey sofa, with tufted back and rolled arms. Between the TV and the couch, there was a mahogany coffee table. The dinner table and matching chairs were also mahogany, as were the bookshelves and desk in the study.

  Doug didn’t appreciate much his uncle’s elegant and expensive furniture, but he made sure no harm came to it. If he had to replace any of it, it would take a couple of salaries to pay it off.

  Deciding to surprise him with a nice breakfast, I went to his kitchen. The space was the simplest of the house; his uncle certainly didn’t cook. The walls were covered with dark green, original tiles, and the cabinets wer
e old, its white turning into a creamy tone.

  There was a tiny island in the middle of it, just big enough to organize everything for my surprise. Glancing around the space, I considered cleaning it up as a secondary surprise, but only if I could do it quietly. I know: I was such an amazing girlfriend! When I wasn’t dreaming about a certain Brit…

  Anyway, I picked up a couple of glasses in the dining room and placed them in the sink. One of them, a wine glass, had a red lipstick mark on its edge. Huh, his sister Jane must have come to check on him. But I couldn’t remember her using that shade of lipstick. Actually, I was pretty sure she didn’t use any make up at all.

  Using my peripheral vision, I noticed something in the foyer, tossed on the floor, as if it had been left there in a hurry. It was also feminine; however, I was certain it didn’t belong to Jane: pink lace panties.

  Unconsciously, I grabbed a half-filled bottle of wine and walked on tiptoes toward his room. On his bed, there were two different body shapes covered, one considerably larger than the other. The jerk had spent the night with someone else.

  Flocking nice, Doug. Hope you’ve been safe.

  I was angry, I must admit, yet what was reaping my insides was a feeling of disgust. I couldn’t believe I’d been blaming myself for dreaming about Darcy when we’d never even kissed! What an idiot I had been!

  Well, all that was left to do was to wake him up and break things off like an adult. So I poured the remaining of the wine over him and his female guest, like the mature woman I was.

  Doug woke up with a scream, looking for his gun. It was on his living room floor, where he’d left his pants and his last shred of faithfulness. He stared at me wordless, probably thinking I was a dream.

  Actually, I was a nightmare right now. His personal nightmare.

  I’d just decided what to say to him, so I could humiliate his cheating face and leave with my dignity – almost – intact. Until I saw who he’d been cheating on me with.