Page 59 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

Bingley walks up to Jane and bows. “Miss Bennet, might I have the honor of the first dance?”

“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Bingley,” she says, giving him a genuine-looking smile. They both play their parts well, but I’d expect no less; they are the real actors here, after all.

They leave to line up with some other dancers, which are mostly staff and some of the locals. The same quartet from last night is in the corner, ready to get things started.

“He is watching her again. Mr. Bingley could not make his admiration more obvious if he tried,” Macey says to Charlotte, who’s just joined her.

“And yet Mr. Darcy seems determined to admire from afar. Perhaps he is studying us all to discern who meets his impossible standards,” Charlotte replies, as Macey’s eyes move to me, the beginnings of a smile on her lips, and I have to look down to keep myself from smiling.

Two men, dressed in uniform, ask them to dance. Charlotte accepts and Macey declines, and that’s my cue to approach her.

“Miss Elizabeth, might I inquire why you choose not to dance this evening?” I ask her.

“Because I find observing much more rewarding, Mr. Darcy,” she replies. “And you, sir? Do you find yourself drawn to the dance floor tonight?”

“I find few here who inspire such a desire.”

“Indeed? Then I must pity you, Mr. Darcy, for such particular tastes must make these events exceedingly dull.”

It’s the last part of the dialogue for now, and one of us is supposed to walk away, but right now I can’t remember who. I’m sort of caught in the spell that is Macey. My lips pull up into a smile, which I know isn’t very Darcy-like, but I can’t helpit, especially when Macey gives me one in return. The spell is quickly broken, though, when Lady Catherine clears her throat and we both look over to see she’s giving us a disapproving glare. Some of the onlookers are smiling and whispering to each other.

Oops.

Macey stands up straighter. “Mr. Darcy,” she says before walking away.

“Miss Bennet,” I say, watching her as she leaves and realizing that it was me who was supposed to leave.

It’s not part of the script, but for improvisation, I think we nailed it. But one look at Lady Catherine, who’s shaking her head at me, and I guess maybe we didn’t pull it off as well as I thought.

I watch as Mr. Collins approaches Macey, bowing deeply, which was supposed to happen after my lines with Macey ended and I left her standing there, but he’s part of the staff, so I’m sure he’s learned to just roll with it.

“Miss Elizabeth, what a magnificent occasion! Might I secure the honor of your hand for the next dance?” he asks.

“Mr. Collins,” Macey says. “I am honored by your request, but I fear I must decline. My feet are quite fatigued.”

“Fatigue is easily remedied by activity! Lady Catherine herself recommends vigorous dancing to improve one’s constitution,” Mr. Collins says, doing a little over-the-top dance in his spot. The guy is a great actor. I wonder why he’s working at Pride and Prejudice Park and not in movies or onstage.

Charlotte, who came over after finishing her dance, steps in. “Mr. Collins, perhaps you would do me the honor instead? I have been longing for a partner of your ... enthusiasm.”

“Miss Lucas, your request flatters me greatly. I would be delighted.”

Macey gives her a look of appreciation before the couple walks toward the ballroom to join the next set. Now we wait for the next scene.

It’s kind of irritating I can’t just go talk to her now that we’ve said our lines, and I feel fidgety standing by myself, wanting to be near her. Even though maybe this is for the best.

I’ve been smiling to myself all day after spending last night with her and holding her hand as we ran back to Longbourn. Now with the letter thing out in the open, something that’s been bothering me, I can think about other things. Except, I keep thinking about her ... about Macey.

I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling right now, but it’s something different. And it feels like, whatever it is, it has come on fast. But it’s so easy with Macey. Everything is better when she’s around—the way she makes me laugh, the way her cheeks warm, the way she lights up when she talks about the things she loves. She has this knack for making the most awkward situations bearable, like just a few minutes ago when we got sidetracked from our characters.

She seems like the old Macey—the one I remember before everything started to go wrong for her. This trip feels like it’s brought her back. She may not have won it, but it’s exactly what she needed. I don’t know why that part matters to her so much. I’ve heard her explanation, and I still don’t get it. It’s not winning the trip that changed her luck—it’s her.

“There he is,” someone says, and I look down to see a half dozen older women standing before me. Oh no, it’s Edith, the butt pincher. I turn to Macey, who’s looking this way, and give her widehelp meeyes.

She sucks her teeth between her lips, holding in a laugh. She’s not going to help me at all.

“Good evening, ladies,” I say.

“This is Fitzwilliam,” Edith says, extending a hand toward me. “He’s being coy with me, won’t tell me his real name.”

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