Real: A Pride and Prejudice Variation by Iris Lim

Author:Iris Lim [Lim, Iris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Iris Lim
Published: 2018-10-04T05:00:00+00:00

• • •

"Does the fire warm you sufficiently?"

I look up from Chaucer to see Darcy crouched beside the fireplace. The ruffled hair, the white sleep-dress, and now the unexpected squat — the guy never stops surprising me. I smile. "I'm fine. Thank you."

He smiles in return, nods, and resumes his spot beside me. I get cold pretty easily, to be honest, and the only thing keeping me warm today has been his constant physical presence.

But hey, he doesn't need to know that.

I fight the urge to snuggle closer. Thank God for the tray of food between us — it's protection from start to finish, that's for sure.

I squirm a little at the recollection of how easily Darcy had maneuvered around it the other day. I had no idea how he'd been suddenly on top of me — with the tray completely undisturbed, too. Sure, I've played tennis and all. But, even then, I'm not that coordinated.

"Lizzy," he calls me.

I finish reading the last sentence and turn. "Yes?"

He's smiling casually, like it's perfectly normal for us to be talking over books and snacks tonight. Then again, maybe it is.

"I — I found your dress very lovely today," he says, to my very genuine surprise.

"Oh." I smile a little. It's a compliment, after all, expected or not. "Uhm — thanks?"

"The modiste does well."

The modiste — right. I grin a little at the memory of young Georgiana flitting around with all those dated fashion pegs. Old-fashioned way of dressing-up doesn't mean bad quality, I suppose.

I look at Darcy, feeling a little flattered. "Thanks."

"I speak but the truth." He smiles — and the dimples and the eyes will be the death of me yet.

Theoretically, the weather's only gotten colder and colder around here. But, right now, the room feels like a freakin' stifling furnace.

I clear my throat for no apparent reason. "You looked — uhm, nice, too."

My bumbling comment has him smiling — with teeth. "I believe that has been my unfortunate lot in life. To look nice is to be above decent yet below handsome."

"What? No," I protest. I push the familiarity of the wording to the back of my brain. I lean over the side table, tray and all. "You're not just nice. I mean — you are. I meant, your clothes — your outfit, okay? That was nice. You — your yourself — you're more than just nice."

He doesn't move; he usually doesn't. But his eyes grow brighter, like they're actually twinkling. I see the corners of his mouth almost lifting. "Are you saying what I believe you to be saying, Lizzy?"

"And what do you believe?" I smile, anticipating.

"That I am above your definition of an average man." The teasing lilt in his voice is undeniable now, and it's doing strange things to my chest.

"Of course you are," I say — gush, really. I smile again. "You're — you're really, really good, Darcy. You look good, for one, and you're also a very admirable man."

Again, he doesn't move. But his face does redden.

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