My Own Mr. Darcy (21 page)

“Cheese and crackers sound
good but I want one of those marzipan Piroshky rolls. I’ve been craving one of
those since the summer after high school graduation.”

“You ready to go?” Matt
asked. He picked up the overnight bag sitting by the front door and leaned in
close to kiss my cheek.

“I think I’ve got
everything.”

“Is this your only bag?”

“We’re only going for one
night. How much do I need?” I asked.

Matt laughed. “I’m sure
you’re fine. I was just comparing your little bag here to Meg’s two big bags.”

Matt put my bag in the
trunk of his BMW.

In the back seat, Meg was
applying a bright shade of red lipstick. “Hi Meg,” I said as I got in the car.

“Hi, Elizabeth. Nice
place,” Meg said. I ignored the haughty tone in her voice.

“Thanks. I like it.

Matt rubbed his hands
together with enthusiasm. “Seattle, here we come,” he said and pulled out onto
the street. Fifteen minutes later, we were speeding north on I-5.

“Matt, you said you wanted
me to tell you about the authors I’ve lined up for spring and summer, Meg said.
“Should I do that now?”

Matt looked at me with a
question on his face. His concern about me made me happy. I smiled and
shrugged.

“Sure, Meg, go ahead.”

I leaned my head back and
closed my eyes as Meg pulled out a notebook and they discussed authors’ names
and dates and books. Soon their voices were just a hum in the background as I
drifted in and out of sleep.

“Hey, Elizabeth.” Matt’s
voice brought me out of my haze. He squeezed my hand.

“Hmm? Did you say
something?” I asked.

“Put your seat back a
little. You’ll be more comfortable. There’s a button on the side.”

I felt for the button at
the side of my seat and pushed it down. The seat gradually moved backward. I
turned sideways in my seat and snuggled into the soft leather. “Thanks, Matt.
Sorry I’m so tired.”

“Don’t worry. You might as
well get a nap in now so you’ll be awake for dinner.” He covered my hand with
his as I closed my eyes.

“She’s a mountain of fun,”
Meg said after a few minutes. I wanted to tell her I was still awake and could
hear her, but it didn’t seem worth the effort.

“She’s just tired. She’s
been working a lot lately,” Matt said

“For her other boyfriend?”

Even though my eyes were
closed, I was suddenly very awake.

“Knock it off, Meg.”

“What? She can’t hear me.
She’s asleep.” I kept my eyes closed and tried to look relaxed. “Elizabeth?”
she said quietly in a sing-song voice. “Are you awake?” I held very still. “See
she’s asleep. Maybe she should have stayed home with him.”

“She’s not working for him.
She’s doing a job for his parents.” Matt’s voice sounded stern.

“You don’t have to make
excuses for her. This is me you’re talking to and I already know it bothers
you.”

Matt’s voice was low,
almost a whisper. “This isn’t the time to talk about this.”

Meg’s voice lowered to the
same tone as Matt’s. “Whatever.”

Even with the radio
playing softly in the background, the car overflowed with a potpourri of conflicting
feelings. Matt’s frustration and Meg’s dislike for me seemed to crash and stew
around me. My own discomfort wrapped me up like a blanket. I didn’t like that
Matt and Meg talked about me. She knew random bits of my life that were none of
her business. She knew about Chad and my second job. She’d even bought me
pantyhose. What else did she know about me?

I wanted to fall asleep
again if only to escape the tension in the car but my mind, muddled and tired
just a few minutes ago, was now sharp and busy and uncooperative. I willed my
eyes to stay shut for several more minutes before I gave up and put my seat
back in its upright position.

“Can’t sleep?” Matt asked
kindly.

“I just needed a little
power nap, I guess,” I said. I smiled at him and he linked his fingers through
mine. I held his hand between both of mine.

Meg sat in the back seat,
a silent wall of hostility filling the space around her.

“We’ll go by your hotel
first and get you ladies checked in and then we’ll head over to Alan’s house.”

“Sounds good,” I said.
When Meg didn’t respond, I looked back at her. She was asleep, her head on a
pillow against the window.

We checked in at a
Marriott close to Pikes Place. I was thankful Meg and I had separate rooms and
wouldn’t be required to make small talk. I carried my bag to my room. Meg
pulled one of hers and Matt pulled the other.

“I’m impressed you could
fit all you need into such a small bag,” Meg said. She didn’t sound impressed
at all.

Meg’s room was across the
hall from mine. Matt put her bag inside her door. “You don’t mind if I change
real quick, do you?” Meg asked. “I always feel so icky after traveling.”

“You should go ahead and
change for dinner,” Matt said. “We won’t have time to come back here first.”

“I’ll change now too,” I
said trying to keep my voice bright.

“I’ll meet you down in the
lobby,” Matt said. Meg closed her door slowly, watching us.

“See you in a few
minutes,” I said and let my door swing shut. Just before it clicked, Matt
stopped it and knocked.

“Is your room okay?” he
asked from the open door.

“It looks great. Thanks
Matt.”

“No problem.” He didn’t
leave but just stood there in the open doorway.

“Meg said she’d share a
room with you, but I thought that might be uncomfortable for you.”

His thoughtfulness warmed
me. I could only imagine what plans Meg would have had if we were in the same
room. I would have had to sleep with one eye open. I walked back to the door.
“This is perfect. Thank you.” I pulled Matt down as I stood on my tiptoes. When
our lips met, Matt’s arms came around me. He pulled me close and he kissed me
again. “I’ll see you downstairs,” I said. Matt walked toward the elevator. As
my door closed, I noticed the peephole in Meg’s door and hoped she hadn’t been
watching.

I got to the lobby before
Meg. I was surprised to see Matt had changed clothes. “Alan’s running a little
late,” he said, patting the couch beside him. “He’s going to meet us at the
restaurant.”

We listened to a jazz
pianist play for a few minutes while a muted television showed sports
highlights.

“I’m so excited to go to
The Herbgarden,” Meg said when she finally appeared in the lobby. “Milo used to
work there. He said it’s amazing.”

“Who’s Milo?” I asked.

“He’s the chef who catered
my New Year’s Eve party. He moved to Portland a little more than a year ago.
Anyway, he said we had to try it so when Matt asked me where we should eat this
weekend, of course, I thought of the Herbgarden.”

I was suddenly glad I
hadn’t eaten anything on the drive up. If the food was anything like the food
served at Meg’s party, I was happy to be ravenous.

The Herbgarden was a
half-hour drive outside Seattle. We turned down a narrow road that led to a cottage-style
restaurant that looked like the inspiration for every Thomas Kincaid
painting—aged stucco, small-paned windows, and wrought-iron fixtures. Lights
glowed from inside the restaurant and from small glowing globes around the
grounds. Mature shrubs and trees surrounded the house. A short walk away were
raised gardens, stone walls and fountains. It felt old-fashioned and English.

After a valet took the
car, we entered the warm, enchanting restaurant. We waited in the old-fashioned
salon, where a large fire burned in an enormous fireplace. Meg sat down on a Victorian-style
sofa and began leafing through a coffee table book full of artistic photographs
of herbs and spices.

Everything around us felt
like it belonged to another time. I didn’t feel like bank teller Lizzie from
Portland, Oregon. I felt proper and significant. I stood with my back a little
straighter and hoped we’d have witty and important conversations. I imagined
myself in that time and place. In perfect gentleman form, Matt took my hand
through his arm and we walked to the window to watch for Alan.

I looked at our
reflections in the glass. Matt looked good in his gray trousers and light blue
dress shirt and I felt pretty in my black and white houndstooth A-line dress
and green cardigan, but I wished Matt was wearing breeches with a tailcoat and
cravat and I was in a white gown with an empire waist, my hair pulled up and
pinned with tiny white flowers.  

I sighed at the thought.

“What are you thinking
about?” Matt asked quietly, looking at me in the reflection of the window.

“I was just thinking this
place is perfect.”

“What do you like about
it?” he asked.

“It makes me feel like I’m
a character in a Jane Austen novel.”

“Ah. You do like Jane
Austen. And which character are you?” Matt was humoring me.

I nudged him and smiled.
“I’m Elizabeth, of course.”

“Of course. So that would
make me. . .”

“Dude, there you are.” A
man’s voice boomed through the quiet room. Matt detached himself from my arm
and in two long strides he and the man I figured was Alan were shaking hands
and slapping each other’s backs.

“Yes,” I whispered. “That
would make you Mr. Darcy.”

“How was the drive?” Alan
asked.

“Great. Good weather. We
made good time.”

“It’s great to see you, man,”
Alan said. His use of “dude” and “man” successfully brought me back to the
present.

“Hey, what about me?” Meg
said moving between the two men. Her lips were actually set in a pout.

“Ah, Meg.” Alan kissed Meg
on the lips. “It’s always great to see you. All grown up. You look stunning.”
And she did. Meg’s hair was pulled up in a sophisticated twist and she was wearing
a brilliantly simple, form-fitting black dress and diamond earrings.

“I’m not in high school
anymore,” Meg said flirtatiously.

“You can say that again.”
Alan looked Meg over appreciatively.

“Alan, this is Elizabeth,”
Matt said.