From Pemberley to Manhattan Read online

  The point was: Grandma hadn’t heard about the time travelling thing, which I now considered a blessing. If Mom and Nat had gone into coma-mode, imagine what could’ve happened to my poor, delicate Grandma!

  “So, that means you’re from the nineteenth century”, Nat had been quiet for so long, she actually scared me when she spoke. Fitz nodded enthusiastically. “And that you’ve been lying to my face since we first met?”

  Oh, shit. “Miss Nathalie, I–”

  “And when you said you believed that, if a woman was over the age of twenty-five, she should marry the first, and I quote, ‘suitor that showed the slightest interest in her or be condemned to be a spinster’, you weren’t sarcastically criticizing our society’s ridiculous expectations for women, were you?”

  Double shit. “Well, I suppose–” Poor Fitz tried, but was once again interrupted by Volcano Nathalie.

  “And when you stated people should marry within their social circle, you weren’t joking about the absurdity of social discrimination in the twenty-first century, were you?”

  Triple shit. “Actually, I believe–” Hadn’t Fitz realized yet those were rhetorical questions?

  “And when you asked if our former President Obama was a ‘free man’ by the time he was elected, it wasn’t a weird-but-smart British sarcasm I couldn’t quite understand, was it?”

  “WHAT?!” I’d talked to Fitz about the abolition of slavery! What the hell had he been thinking? “Dude, people get arrested now for saying that kind of shit! We’ve talked about it! It’s racism, Fitz! Badly done!”

  “Et tu, Brute?”, Fitz sounded like he was accusing me of a crime. He seemed hurt and mad.

  “Dude, call me either Bobby or Robert. Not ‘Brute’. I can be tough sometimes, but I’m definitely not a brute. And my Spanish’s a little rusty, so you’ll have to translate that one for me.”

  Nat rolled her eyes and left in a rush; Fitz ran after her; Mom finally came back from her stupor and began crying; Dad tried to comfort her and got hand slapped.

  I went to my room to smoke my special cigar.

  ♥

  Nat

  I couldn’t comprehend how the hottest, most passionate kisser ever could be such a cold-hearted liar. I was so furious I could kick a street light. OUCH! That hurt!

  Okay, Nathalie. You should use soothing words to calm yourself down. Puppies. Books. Museum. Queen Victoria. England. That British lying sack of sh– “Miss Nathalie.”

  Not. Happening.

  “Please, allow me to explain.”

  I wanted to scream like a maniac. I wanted to chase him around Central Park tossing rocks at him. I wanted him to beg for forgiveness in the middle of Times Square! Yes, sometimes my vengeance methods were quite… Medieval.

  Instead of demanding any of those things from him, though, I did the one thing that would surprise him the most: I faced him and said, in a flat tone, “Explain. You have one minute.”

  “In vain I have struggled. It will not do.” Yeah, I was not doing a lot either, dude. Whatever that meant. To imagine I once considered your exquisite way of speaking charming. Ugh. Just ugh. “My feelings will not be repressed.” Oh, seriously? I could barely repress the feeling of my hand slapping your face. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

  Holy. Fluking. Shirt. Did he just admit he loved me? Ardently? I’d never fully understood Fanny’s favorite expression before (even though my Darcy moments had been quite helpful in that department), but now I grasped it completely: my panties were about to fall off.

  If he kept speaking that way, I’d most definitely have rushed him to my room upstairs to introduce him to a concept from the twenty-first century I was very fond of: make up sex.

  However, that desire vanished when he continued his speech. “My sense of your inferiority – of its being a degradation, despite my high sense of obligation toward your family – was dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence I am wounding, but is very unlikely to recommend my suit.”

  Huh? Did I hear it right? Did this arrogant, lying, I’m-such-a-perfect-gentleman Brit just called me and my family inferior to him? Panties were safely up, mister. With an electric fence around them now, thanks to your rudeness.

  To make matters worse, he spoke of anxiety and apprehension, but I could see in his smug face he was sure I’d say yes and open my tanned legs to whatever he had to propose. Ha! Keep dreaming, Darcy.

  “Miss Nathalie Estevez Brown, would you do me the honor of–”

  “Your time’s up”, I replied coldly before he could offend me further. He was practically begging me to be kneed between the legs with that inferiority speech of his. What I hated the most? I wanted to kiss that aristocratic mouth more than I wished to knee him. “I’m tired of your lies and your arrogance. I’ve had enough. I’m through with you, Darcy. I’d rather die alone than spend my life with someone who considers me inferior to him.”

  He was silent for a while. His cheeks, which had been flushed with emotion, now were red with anger. I’d hurt his pride. No more than he deserved. But he recovered. Oh, did he recover.

  “And this is the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected. But–”

  “Civility?” Now he’d pushed all my buttons. Nathalie was malfunctioning. The circuits were about to burn. “You call myself and my family inferior to you, after we took you in, after all we’ve done for you, and you dare say you love me? I don’t believe in love without respect, Darcy. And I sure as helmet don’t believe in love when both parts are not equals.”

  That should have been that. Only it wasn’t. Yet again. “I have already spoken my mind about this matter. My family shall not be expected to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections, yet I–”

  “You misunderstand my meaning, Mr. Darcy.” He clearly wasn’t used to be interrupted – especially three times in a roll – by anyone, let alone a woman. Well, he’d have to grow accustomed to that, since he was in my world now. “I don’t consider you my superior. Quite the contrary: what I wished to say was that you are far inferior to my family and me. We are too good for you.”

  He gasped in shock. I grinned in triumph.

  Satisfied with my performance on that round, but convinced the fight was far from over, I decided it was time to cool off spending some time alone in Central Park.

  I was about to leave Darcy, who was well accompanied by his mortification, when a white van driving too fast on our street caught my attention. Its dark windows prevented me from seeing who was inside. Something was wrong. I felt it when I saw the van, and was sure of it when it stopped abruptly in front of our building, where Darcy and I had been standing.

  The side door slid open, and I wished I hadn’t seen the inside of the vehicle, after all: two men, all geared up, as if they were starting a new World War or something, were holding guns. Guess what the weapons were aiming at?

  My head and Darcy’s, respectively.

  I couldn’t speak for him, but I appreciated my head exactly where it was. Besides, I’d much appreciate if it stayed above my neck for the next five or six decades.

  There was no time to react; I heard the shots and felt the bullet pierce my skin before I could yell.

  ♥

  Chapter 19

  Nat

  “Who the shell are you and why did you kidnap us?”

  The elderly man might look harmless to untrained eyes; his beard was as long and as white as his scarce hair; his blue eyes glowed; and his cheeks seemed to be eternally blushing. He looked like the Santa Claus from Coca-Cola ads, the kind we no longer saw in malls. He was surely very comfortable in his navy sweater, dark gray wool pants and casual black shoes.

  I could see through his I-am-the-best-grandpa-in-the-world persona, though
. He did try to soften his eyes and his expression, but I knew this was business for him, pure and simple. Otherwise, we’d be in a lovely sleigh, being pulled by red nosed reindeers. Instead, I found myself in a coffin of metal, known to some as a private jet worth a few million dollars.

  I was lying down in a leather divan, right by Darcy’s side. Mr. Coca-Cola’s Santa was sitting in a leather club chair facing us. Everything was cream, pale yellow, or white. The oval windows were shut, but I could feel in the pit of my stomach we were flying.

  My vision had been blurry when I first opened my eyes, so I had decided to wait until my mind was sharper before I dared speak. My first words to my kidnaper had been about his identification. Even though I had every reason to attack him, I had been polite. Well, almost.

  “Straight to the point, Miss Estevez Brown. Your reputation precedes you, and I can see it’s quite accurate”, he replied with a polite smile, yet a ticking on his left eye alerted me he didn’t appreciate my tone.

  Sorry, Mr. I-want-to-be-Gandalf. You took me against my will, so you got Nasty Nat. “You didn’t answer my question.” I sure as shell wouldn’t smile back to him.

  ♥

  Bobby

  “What the fu–”

  “BOBBY!!!” Okay, I was definitely getting tired of women yelling at me and spurting towards me as raging bulls. I could hear in Fanny’s tone of voice and see in the despair in her eyes she’d just witnessed what I had.

  Nat and Fitz had been taken in a van. That time, it hadn’t seemed like it was anything related to the FBI.

  Shit, Mom would definitely kill Dad and me now. Whoever took them, it must have had something to do with the time traveling mess. The CIA, perhaps?

  I should spend my last hours of life with Anna naked in my arms and a huge joint in my hand. Instead, what faced me right now was the psycho version of psycho Fanny. There was a lot of psycho going on, dude. Her screams were already giving me a headache.

  “DID YOU SEE THAT?” Of course I did. “THEY’VE TAKEN NAT AND DARCY!” Yes, I was not blind, Fanny. “WE’VE GOTTA DO SOMETHING!” I know, I was about to go smoke some weed and have a lot of fun under the sheets with my girlfriend until you grabbed me in the middle of the street like a maniac. “ARE YOU JUST FREAKIN’ GONNA STAND THERE?”

  She actually shook me by the shoulders, as if my lack of reaction had triggered something even more lunatic in her, somehow. She offended me by accusing me of not caring about my sister. Well, maybe my priorities were all messed up, but I loved Nat and I was really concerned about her whereabouts.

  But I also knew the only person who could help us right now was Travis and his money. So that was the guy I’d call as soon as Fanny let me go. Maybe my mom and her high profile friends too, yet I doubted Dad would have the guts to tell her what had happened again (I know I hadn’t). “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?”

  Random people on the street were now staring at us. I had to think of a way to calm Fanny down. “It’s all right, Fanny. Nat will be fine.”

  “FINE? THEY’VE JUST TAKEN HER! SHE MUST BE SCARED TO DEATH!”

  “Look, it was probably the CIA.” She glanced back to where the van had once been, then back at me. She was probably thinking I was high or something. Well, not yet, Fanny. “She’ll be fine. It’s the second time it’s happened today.”

  “WHAT?! SHE WAS KIDNAPPED BEFORE?”

  “No need to yell, Fanny,” I was exasperated. Why was she so worked up? Didn’t I just explain it was cool, we got it under control? We didn’t, actually, but she didn’t know it. “Yeah, we were all taken earlier by the Feds. It was a mistake, and this one must be too. All I need to do is call Travis and–”

  “NAT WAS TAKEN EARLIER AND NOBODY TOLD ME?”

  There she went and interrupted me again. Not cool, Fanny. “Why should we tell you, Fanny? It’s not like you’re family or–”

  She slapped me. I could feel my face stinging while she turned to leave. I felt really bad for keeping her in the dark like that, yet I knew I was also protecting Fanny by not telling her the chaos Ethan had involved the family in. “If none of you will help her, then I will!” She said, her back to me.

  A few seconds afterwards, she took her phone from her purse and I heard her yelling at another poor shmuck. Well, better him than me, I guessed. How did I know she was vomiting accusations at a guy, you might ask? Well, I had no idea who he was, but she called him “Black Panther”.

  ♥

  Nat

  “Wouldn’t you like to know why you’re here first?”, Santa wannabe demanded. Please, Mr. Fake Gandalf, I had figured that one out when I heard you talk to the flight attendant earlier. Even though right now you were trying to disguise it.

  “I’m here because of him”, I used my chin to indicate Darcy, who was still passed out. “I noticed your accent. British, right? That guy’s the only Brit I know. Aside from my kidnapper, of course. So, back to my original question: who are you?”

  That was the only question that mattered. I wanted his answer, even if it were just a lie. Even lies contained precious information. “Let’s say I run an institution.”

  Pfff… Arrogant ash. “Great, ‘cause that really clarifies things…” I had had the worst twenty-four hours ever, so please don’t judge me for being slightly bitchy. Especially because I had barely begun. “What exactly is this institution you run?”

  “Miss Estevez Brown–”

  “The MI-6?”

  “May I call you Nathali–”

  “Or is it more like Boko Haram? Maybe I should be really scared.” I was totally not, maybe still an effect from the meds they’d given me, so I really hoped he wasn’t a professional killer or a terrorist, because right now he was staring at me with a killer look in his eyes.

  “Nathalie”, he used my first name, regardless of my lack of authorization. Darcy would never do that! “We need to talk about–”

  “I know! Is it Hogwarts?”

  That made the young flight attendant, who had just come in to bring us beverages, giggle a little. Thanks a lot, hon. We girls should stick together in times as such! The Brit version of President Snow wasn’t having much fun, though. I, on the other hand, was enjoying myself a lot!

  Maybe the next twenty-four hours wouldn’t be so terrible.

  He fidgeted uncomfortably in his large leather seat, took a sip from his porcelain cup of tea (who brought porcelain to a plane, for the love of Harry Potter?), and crossed his legs. Uh, I was feeling so threatened right now. Not.

  “You know, Nathalie, how high we are in the sky?” Pfff again. I’d tell him about heights. He kept speaking before I had a chance to. “Do you know what happens to a human body when it falls from such a height?

  What. The. Flock?! Was he planning on turning me into Nat soup? Because that’s pretty much what would be left of me if he threw me from the plane.

  Okay, maybe I was scared now.

  “It is nasty”, he continued. Now I wished Darcy was up so he could be the center of the spectacle of threats. “However, it is not my priority to discuss such matters with you.” Thank the Lord for that one. “You have been mistaken about the reason you are on this plane, that I can assure you.”

  What? “Why are we here, then?” If this wasn’t about the nineteenth century liar, what was this all about?

  “We are here because of your brother. He was the one who sent me.”

  ♥

  CONVERSATION BETWEEN FANNY AND TERRY

  FANNY: Where are you?

  TERRY: Fanny?

  FANNY: Who else, you idiot?

  TERRY: I thought you said you’d rather speak to a zombie than me. I’d thought that kind of funny, actually. Until I realized you were dead serious.

  FANNY: Shut up about zombies! Where the hell are you?!

  TERRY: Away from you, as requested.

  FANNY
: I’m only forgiving that one because you look like Idris Elba. Otherwise, I would–

  TERRY: What? Are you going to stomp your pretty feet like a child?

  FANNY: Hey! Just because you’ve got Black Panther muscles, it doesn’t mean you can threaten me!

  TERRY: Actually, you were the one who–

  FANNY: Do you wanna get some Fanny cookies?

  TERRY: What?!

  FANNY: I’m offering you full access to my Triangle of Paradise.

  TERRY: I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.

  FANNY: Even though there’s not much of a triangle down there anymore. Not since I got that Brazilian wax.

  TERRY: Are you drunk? You’re making no sense.

  FANNY: I mean, they almost left me clean as a whistle the last time.

  TERRY: Last time of what?

  FANNY: Look, what I’m saying’s that I’m willing to sleep with you in exchange of a tiny little favor.

  TERRY: Excuse me?

  FANNY: You’ve heard me, Detective Idris Elba. So, do you want Fanny all over your chocolate bar of a body or not?

  TERRY: Weren’t you threatening me just a minute ago?

  FANNY: God, you’re an idiot.

  TERRY: If you called me just to offend me, I’ll just–

  FANNY: Nat was kidnapped!

  TERRY: What?!

  ♥

  February 14th, 1813

  Pemberley

  My dear Nat,

  I wonder what must be going on in your oversuspicious, overthinking and beautiful mind right now. You probably feel like you can’t trust anyone, particularly the man who went to your time in my place. I’m guessing, even though we are impossibly apart, you want to hate him, for what you believe he has done to me and our family.

  I must beg you to blame no one but me, Nat. After all, this is entirely, a hundred percent my fault. If there is a true victim in this whole situation, it is Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  I am the reason Mr. Darcy ended up there. I am the reason Bobby and Dad lied to you and Mom. I am the reason the Bureau was after you. Most importantly, I am the reason you were taken.